04-07-2018, 10:57 PM
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]
[div style="background-color: #e3dfdf; width: 307px; border-bottom: 1px solid black; border-left: 1px solid black; border-right: 1px solid black; padding: 10px; line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; margin: auto; color: black; text-size: 9px"]And there was the apprentice. Bastille was never too far behind Luna on patrols, it seemed -- either because he had set out with her for company (a rare company that he actually enjoyed), or because he tended to track her aura and come to meet her when he saw her encountering strangers. Sure, a lot of time it was accident, too; Bast sometimes noticed strangers before he realized Luna was approaching too, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that now he was here, stopping beside the Observer as he eyed the stranger lazily.
Hm. A Greek name, he recognized -- something in him twitched, intrigued by the god awful mouthful, and he made a note to hunt it down in his private library later. In the meantime, he drawled idly, "Yo, Hri." Not the nickname he'd cited, but Bast didn't seem concerned. He was actually relaxed today, no sign of his earlier headaches. "I'm Bast."
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]