09-24-2018, 01:33 AM
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BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
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There is a tension there. He can feel the resistance, the reluctance — he knows that he is treading on tentative waters here and can sense the reservations radiating off of Bucky like a tangible blanket settling over his back. Still, though. Roy was dead, and he couldn't simply let things go just because one individual had a bad history with his head. It was unfortunate but necessary, and Bastille could only be relieved that Bucky was willing to cooperate now. There was a beat where he studied the other male, before he nodded and pushed into his thoughts idly, keeping the invasion surface level; just lurking on the surface, letting the thoughts that came to the forefront wash over him without dragging them forward himself.
This isn't a situation like the Asset! Bastille closed his eyes after a moment as Bucky's thoughts flickered across the line, fading in and out as he paid half attention to them, instead choosing to concentrate on the filtering out his thoughts to get to the memories that were steadily rising. He got glimpses of the day, of the patrol, coming through the thoughts, but that one piercing thought seemed to mark the point where things grew hazy. He scowled slightly, stalling, uncertain where this path was leading him; he could feel Bucky's aura shifting, his thoughts growing tense and dark, the memory slipping away and vanishing, something else rising.
"What are you—" he started to say aloud, swearing slightly under his breathe as he realized that he was losing Bucky; the memory was cluttered and confused translating through the mental link as Bastille took a step back, pale blue eyes opening as he shook his head slightly, as if to dislodge the flashes of voices in his head. He almost pulled on Bucky, contemplated breaking into his thoughts just a bit more to yank him out of his own memory's clutches, but knew better than to push; instead he focused on extracting himself, muttering, "You chased the rabbit, dude; come back to us, you're drifting." His voice was low, even; not too urgent or panicked, because he knew better than to start yelling as someone who was lost in their own thoughts.
[align=center][table][tr][td]This isn't a situation like the Asset! Bastille closed his eyes after a moment as Bucky's thoughts flickered across the line, fading in and out as he paid half attention to them, instead choosing to concentrate on the filtering out his thoughts to get to the memories that were steadily rising. He got glimpses of the day, of the patrol, coming through the thoughts, but that one piercing thought seemed to mark the point where things grew hazy. He scowled slightly, stalling, uncertain where this path was leading him; he could feel Bucky's aura shifting, his thoughts growing tense and dark, the memory slipping away and vanishing, something else rising.
"What are you—" he started to say aloud, swearing slightly under his breathe as he realized that he was losing Bucky; the memory was cluttered and confused translating through the mental link as Bastille took a step back, pale blue eyes opening as he shook his head slightly, as if to dislodge the flashes of voices in his head. He almost pulled on Bucky, contemplated breaking into his thoughts just a bit more to yank him out of his own memory's clutches, but knew better than to push; instead he focused on extracting himself, muttering, "You chased the rabbit, dude; come back to us, you're drifting." His voice was low, even; not too urgent or panicked, because he knew better than to start yelling as someone who was lost in their own thoughts.
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE [color=#b4d5ee]FLAMES
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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]