04-24-2018, 03:15 PM
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Let's get one thing straight: Bastille did not like Roy. He thought the dude was a smug prick and entirely too shady for his liking. He had to admit that they held similar philosophies, however, and that Roy operated combat training in a fashion eerily similar to how Bast might. He too believed that everyone in the Clan should be forced to participate, if only to learn the very basics of self defense; sure, he had a much more apathetic approach and would probably let people watch to learn as well, but that was more a reflection of his own apathy. If they didn't want to fight after Bast told them to, eh - he didn't really care. They should, but he wasn't going to force them, because he didn't care that much. Still, he took no issue with Roy's "showing up means you're playing" approach.
After all, Starry more than most needed to know how to defend himself. Their leader was both a primary target and the most important member, and Bast would be damned if Starry was at a disadvantage against threats simply because he didn't care to play-fight.
As Starry and Roy bickered back and forth, Bastille was moving subtly, shifting his weight and taking a few steps to the side. His ice blue stare was locked on Starry, emotionless; he could very easily just being waiting to see what their Seraph would decide, to the outsider. In reality, his pulse was slowing down, the world going muted around him -- Bast was, inexplicably, reminded of the stealth-walker tryouts.
(He stood back, in the crowd, watching as Indigo sparred with the first few volunteers, tracking her movements and analyzing how she moved, how she fought. Echo ran a quick cross reference with the variety of styles he knew, and decided on the best one to match their fiery leader. That wasn't his best tactic, though -- no, his best tactic was surprise. The best stealth-walker would not play fair or fight clean. She wanted stealth, after all. And so Echo would show her stealth.
When she sent her most recent failure scurrying away, Echo was prepared for her. He was already in position, waiting for the moment she asked for her next pathetic challenger. He didn't give her the time to finish her sentence before he had her on the ground and pinned, taken aback.)
He could smell the Tribe, felt the wash of energy coursing through him as Echo's memories blurred into his own. As Roy spoke, saying something about preparing for the future, Bastille was already moving. The bengal lunged forward in a flash, taking advantage of Starry's unbalanced posture to bowl the Seraph over from the right. His paws were already scrambling for purchase against Starry's shoulders, trying to pin them to the ground with all of the force of his impact as he breathed out through gritted teeth, "As much as I hate to admit it, Roy has a point."
Let's get one thing straight: Bastille did not like Roy. He thought the dude was a smug prick and entirely too shady for his liking. He had to admit that they held similar philosophies, however, and that Roy operated combat training in a fashion eerily similar to how Bast might. He too believed that everyone in the Clan should be forced to participate, if only to learn the very basics of self defense; sure, he had a much more apathetic approach and would probably let people watch to learn as well, but that was more a reflection of his own apathy. If they didn't want to fight after Bast told them to, eh - he didn't really care. They should, but he wasn't going to force them, because he didn't care that much. Still, he took no issue with Roy's "showing up means you're playing" approach.
After all, Starry more than most needed to know how to defend himself. Their leader was both a primary target and the most important member, and Bast would be damned if Starry was at a disadvantage against threats simply because he didn't care to play-fight.
As Starry and Roy bickered back and forth, Bastille was moving subtly, shifting his weight and taking a few steps to the side. His ice blue stare was locked on Starry, emotionless; he could very easily just being waiting to see what their Seraph would decide, to the outsider. In reality, his pulse was slowing down, the world going muted around him -- Bast was, inexplicably, reminded of the stealth-walker tryouts.
(He stood back, in the crowd, watching as Indigo sparred with the first few volunteers, tracking her movements and analyzing how she moved, how she fought. Echo ran a quick cross reference with the variety of styles he knew, and decided on the best one to match their fiery leader. That wasn't his best tactic, though -- no, his best tactic was surprise. The best stealth-walker would not play fair or fight clean. She wanted stealth, after all. And so Echo would show her stealth.
When she sent her most recent failure scurrying away, Echo was prepared for her. He was already in position, waiting for the moment she asked for her next pathetic challenger. He didn't give her the time to finish her sentence before he had her on the ground and pinned, taken aback.)
He could smell the Tribe, felt the wash of energy coursing through him as Echo's memories blurred into his own. As Roy spoke, saying something about preparing for the future, Bastille was already moving. The bengal lunged forward in a flash, taking advantage of Starry's unbalanced posture to bowl the Seraph over from the right. His paws were already scrambling for purchase against Starry's shoulders, trying to pin them to the ground with all of the force of his impact as he breathed out through gritted teeth, "As much as I hate to admit it, Roy has a point."
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]