05-06-2018, 12:12 PM
[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #576a6e; text-align: center; margin: auto"]WALKING STORM™
angstendants — #demotebast2k18 — rapsheet
[div style="line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; color: black; padding-top: 10px; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]angstendants — #demotebast2k18 — rapsheet
How was Bastille's week going? Not great, frankly. He felt wonderful after getting some damn sleep for the first time in days, devoid of headaches and pent up energy, so ironically he actually seemed to be in a slightly better mood. However, there was the minor issue of bringing down mass chaos and evidently having little to no control over his powers once they started to get out of hand. That was a bit of a downer. He was doing his best to ignore the issue, frankly, but that was sort of difficult to do when random storms and earthquakes seemed to follow him at will. Yesterday he'd created a mini tornado on a patrol, and it had literally followed him the entire way. This shit was getting ridiculous.
This time, there was no gust of wind to mark his arrival; instead, the ground started shake very, very slightly. It was only a baby earthquake, not quite the menace that had shook the entire observatory a few days ago, but Bast still looked a little sour when he felt it. Deciding to try to ignore it into nonexistence, he settled beside Suite and studied the locket. "You fixed it," he pointed out by way of greeting, noting that after another few moments of ominous rumbling, the earthquake slowly subsided.
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]