09-09-2018, 10:14 PM
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BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES
Romanempire was an oddity, if Bast was going to be completely fucking honest. Sure, the guy was friendly and unassuming and seemed to be chill enough; he never really made a fuss or started shit, and was just... there, a lot of the time, offering vague aid or just silent support for whatever the fuck was going on. Reasonably average citizen. No cause for alarm, right? But sometimes he got this look when he studied Bast, and it was... odd. Like familiarity, in a way, only Roman struck no cord of recognition in Bastille. Sometimes he felt like he should know who this guy was just because he looked like he knew who Bast was, and that was... odd.
But he supposed he couldn't just avoid the guy, and thus there he was, grudgingly coming to play nice with their visitor because it was his patriotic duty or something along those lines. Look, Ascendants had a living, breathing Seraph who didn't hate his job and would be a good boy and greet neutrals! Right. Totally. As it was he only passed an idly curious stare over this stranger's pelt — were those cherry blossoms? — before he nodded a lazy greeting. [b]"Yo," he supplied, arching a brow, "You're a trader? From Tangle? Huh. Would'a thought Sunhaven." A pause. "I'm Bast, by the way."
But he supposed he couldn't just avoid the guy, and thus there he was, grudgingly coming to play nice with their visitor because it was his patriotic duty or something along those lines. Look, Ascendants had a living, breathing Seraph who didn't hate his job and would be a good boy and greet neutrals! Right. Totally. As it was he only passed an idly curious stare over this stranger's pelt — were those cherry blossoms? — before he nodded a lazy greeting. [b]"Yo," he supplied, arching a brow, "You're a trader? From Tangle? Huh. Would'a thought Sunhaven." A pause. "I'm Bast, by the way."
[B]ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — [color=#e2e2e2]TAGS — [color=#e2e2e2]MOODBOARD — [color=#e2e2e2]PLAYLIST
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]