who'd you think you'd fool baby | open + :fire: :rose:

[BASTILLEPAW]

[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #576a6e; text-align: center; margin: auto"]WALKING STORM™
angstendants — #demotebast2k18 — rapsheet

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Of course Margy would be the first one to find him. Of course it would be her, arriving as the corporal glared and fumed and struggled to force the flames to just listen to him this once. What he wasn't anticipating was the accusation in her voice, the assumption that he had meant to do this for some god awful reason. "Wait, Margy, no--" he said desperately, jerking after her as she lunged for the roses, but he was too afraid to touch her; not when the ground was splintering under his paws in fine cracks and everything he touched seemed to be going up in flames lately. "Margy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-- they won't stop-- Get away from the flames, Margy, stop, you can't save them--"

And then she fainted, and Bastille lunged forward without thinking, shaking her gently as he swore, "Fuck, Margy, come back--" There were others there, he could feel their auras, and there was Suite; Bastille seemed to remember himself and the threat he posed, and he shifted back a step, letting Suite take her and move her away from the smoke. Bastille trailed a few steps behind her, glancing towards the others before he turned a pathetic stare on Suite. "Suite, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, and she wouldn't listen to me--"

The fireball was disheveled, his frustration and guilt eating away at him; Bast tended to seem like he didn't get a damn about anything, caring that apathy that only gave way in the face of anger, but this was different. This was Bastille looked vaguely unhinged, the ground starting to shake underpaw as he stared at Margy, leaning forward slightly as she spoke only to take a step back once more when Roy appeared. Gods, he fucking hated that it was so easy for him, and Bastille looked morose as Roy turned on him. He had never seemed as young as he did in that moment, muttering, "No. I was just trying to get the ground to stop doing this shit," he made a sweeping gesture towards the fucking cracks that seemed to be sprouting in his steps, "And instead, this happened." He glared viciously towards the charred garden, as if somehow it was at fault here, and the wind swirled in response to his distress.