05-01-2018, 12:37 AM
[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #576a6e; text-align: center; margin: auto"]BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS ✧
the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
[div style="line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; color: black; padding-top: 10px; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
It was almost funny how worked up Suite was getting herself -- or, at least, would be in hindsight. Bastille was relatively young, in the middle range of the typical apprenticeship, but that was not accounting for the old fuckers that were his souls. Sure, he was immature emotionally and generally acted like a petulant child when pissed off, but beneath his young impulses and lack of growth, he had memories. It wasn't so much that his souls made him act older, but that they granted him a wealth of knowledge and experiences to reference without being forced to physically live through it all himself. (Well, technically, he had lived them all but... it was complicated, phrasing soul shit. Besides, Bastille liked to think of himself as a separate from his past, and tended to consider each past life it's own entity. Sure, in reality they were all blended together in one now, but fuck that shit.)
The moral of the story, here: Bastille had seen some shit. He knew people lived complicated lives and had a whole wealth of reasons for doing the strange shit that they did sometimes. He knew there was something going on with Suite and Margy, but he also knew there must be a reason for their secrecy, some logic behind it. It might be terrible logic, sure, but Bast refused to believe they would do it out of any sort of animosity. Their auras were good ones, and beyond that, they were kind and caring. Whatever their reasoning, he didn't really care that they had lied. He was only vaguely curious as to why and if they really thought that they were pulling it off. (Spoiler alert: they were not.)
As he swung his door open, it was a headache and a vague desire to set all of Tanglewood territory on fire. He was more tired than angry at this point, though, some of his unrelenting fury finally having taken a break as he looked for ways to distract himself. He was almost relieved to see her; she had a relatively calming presence, as Luna or Margy did. He found it easier to reign in his temper around them, and after eyeing her briefly (she seemed stressed), he drawled idly, "Uh, yeah?"
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]