04-18-2018, 01:45 PM
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[div style="background-color: #e3dfdf; width: 305px; 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; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]Look, Bastille wasn't really the type to say "I told you so", but as he joined them and caught Margaret reacting oddly to her own damn name for the second time, he was tempted to point out that he thought something was whack. She didn't look like a Margaret, as odd as that sounded, and she certainly acted affronted by the name. Margae, she had started to say at the party. Margae- what? Maybe it was a nickname, maybe it was an old name, but Bast wanted to know just why she was hiding it. What was the point?
He settled beside Rad, jostling her shoulder somewhat in greeting as he watched Margaret. After a moment, he offered, "Hey, Margy." Better. Sounded less strained and stiff than Margaret. He had to admit, he was curious about where she was from as well, but he wasn't going to ask about it -- so at least Rad. The answer was still vague, but that still sounded familiar. Sounded like home. And, if it were true that Suite was from somewhere close to his home, she might even recognize the familiarity of Margy's home as well.
Interesting.
Speaking of... Bastille glanced at the newer member as she arrived, arching a brow at the obvious flirtation. Even more interesting, that. His gaze flickered to Margy, to Suite, and back. He squinted slightly, and wondered idly if he was the only one who found the sudden, easy chemistry between the two... odd. Not wrong. It seemed incredibly right, actually, but it was so... fluid. Natural. Like they'd been exchanging just pleasantries for ages. (Even their auras looked good together, he noted.)
Huh. Bast didn't comment on it, though, and instead offered a bit of information himself -- as if he was trying to draw a confession out of Margy (and Suite, actually -- he was still curious about her background, too). "My mother belonged to some place far off called RiverClan," he said casually, "I didn't really stay there long, but I'm from far away, too. Why'd you leave?" There was also the matter of his souls and their various lives... Bast could recall the Elite, the Tribe, and WindClan as clearly as if he'd lived there himself in this lifetime. He didn't feel like being that generous with his information yet, however.
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]