04-01-2018, 12:41 PM
BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS ✧ ascendants — fireball — tags
[div style="background-color: #e3dfdf; border: 1px black solid; width: 500px; line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; margin-top: -1px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; color: black; padding: 10px; text-size: 10px"]Memories could be a fickle thing. Bastille has a surplus of them, what with his three souls and Grimmkit’s... habits; he had never been lacking in them, really. He often encountered those who wished to be rid of a bad memory, wished hard enough that they even sought out his business. Some of them even asked them to remove the memory of meeting him, so that never had to know they’d once suffered so. Missing memories, however... Not quite his expertise.
”Welcome, I guess,” he greeted as he stopped by them, gaze flickering to the two lions. The bengal could sense an awkward situation coming on, and coughed idly. ”I’m Bast. I take it you are staying, then?”
Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]