FOR THE GREATER GOOD | open + news / injury

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]When Warringkingdoms and Radeken arrived, Suiteheart stepped back. She gave the healers room to work - to save -, and she paced. The rushing rivers of her tears became trickles of slow creeks. Her heart and mind were in a thousand different places. Everything was hurting, and the longer Bastille remained unresponsive, the further she sank into herself. Nothing felt real. Her world was moving slowly and everything around her was background noise and shadows and make-believe. A pained look surfaced on her face, and her claws unsheathed, digging into the ground as if to tether herself to the earth. Suite could feel herself retreating, could feel that tug to let go, to rest and heal. She wanted to... She wanted to fall from her own graces and become hardened, but something prevented her.

Despite her fights with him, despite her anger over his treatment of Margaery, despite his dependence on alcohol, despite everything else, she loved him. Suiteheart truly loved Bastilleprisoner like a son, and she could not - would not leave his side even in death... even in death.

Her baby blues were dim and streaked with agony as she looked at him. She was still for a few moments, but when she saw no hint of life on him, the tears returned. She felt her legs give way, and she found herself sitting in a heap on the ground. Everything felt like it was spinning. She heard people talking, saw Pele and Hazel walking forward, but her mind could not process it like it normally would. She was too consumed by dread. She was losing another child. She was losing another piece of herself. She was losing everything.

'If you die on me, I swear to God,' the Ecliptic Admiral threatened in her mind, but there was no heat behind her thoughts. Everything was numb and freezing, and despite the warmth of the summer sun, she felt so cold and empty. Her eyes were glued to the marks around Bastille's neck, and she knew it too well. He had been strangled. She felt phantom wire around her throat as she remembered the time she had been murdered. She blinked, causing a cascade of tears to fall, and she cast that thought out of her mind.

She turned away from the scene as she saw Rin stop to answer Lunafreya. The white feline could not watch. No, she wouldn't. She would not allow herself to watch this shitty world take away another person she cared for. She couldn't...

And then: hope.

When Bastilleprisoner gasped loudly, she whipped around. "Bast?" the fae whispered, creeping forward. This was too good to be true; it had to be. Her heart was racing, and her own breathing was ragged as she watched him struggle to find breath, to fight, to live. Tears fell hard and fast out of relief, and she found herself trembling violently. He was alive. He was alive.

Before she could think or do anything related to that, she was attempting to hug him. She would wait for the recoil, for the disgust on his face, but she didn't care. She just needed to hold him and make sure this was real. Suiteheart had to hold him one last time because she knew that she may never get the chance again. "You were dead. I saw you. You were dead-" The words flew from her mouth like a bullet from a gun, and she silenced herself as Bastilleprisoner spoke.

The deputy moved back, confusion in her eyes. Beck? What was he saying 'yes,' to? Warringkingdoms spoke her exact thoughts, but when the Cleric's final words were spoken, a rage began to build. "Beck strangled you?" Her tone was dark. If she ever got her fucking hands on that poltergeist... She would kill him one thousand times over.

[Character Graveyard.]

LOST IN SKIES OF POWDERED GOLD ✧ Lunafreya Nox Fleuret

Seeing Bastille had awoken and announced that Beck had allowed the alliance, rage could be seen in her normally-calm, blue-eyes. "You- you were about to die, and you care about a alliance more then your own health? There are others here who care about you Bast, and it seems you don't give a shit about them. The one good thing you can do for this group is show that you actually fucking care about everyone."

This was the only moment that Luna had expressed true anger towards anyone during her time in The Ascendants. Rage could be seen in her blue-eyes, she was shaking violently and her teeth were barred. It seemed her vampirism was in control of her emotions at the moment, so she had gotten up and left to prevent any more problems.

© madi

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Everything was a blur.

Things were being said to her that she did not quite comprehend, her grief stricken mind too overwhelmed to even attempt to understand. She just kept staring, staring and hoping and praying that he would heed what basically were her commands now: wake up. Wake up. Wake up. She didn't know what she was going to do if he didn't wake up. If he didn't return to them. Perhaps she was selfish for wanting him back. Perhaps she was still desperate to reconcile, to prove that she would never, ever stop caring for him. Whatever the reason... she just wanted to see those ice-blue eyes once more, to feel the heat of their stare even if they were filled with hate.

Voices. There were so many voices. So many people. She continued to ignore all of them, lost amidst her own tears and sorrow and misplaced hopes that he was going to wake up any second now. He had to. He had to. She would gladly give up her immortal life if it gave her a chance to make things right with the seraph, to prove that she loved him and that she had never tried to steal the things he cared for from him. A monster she may be, yes, but underneath centuries of blood shed and destruction, she still cared far too much for the ones she saw as family; Bastilleprisoner was her family.

And suddenly, he was lurching forward, causing the chocolate point to stagger backwards in surprise. A part of her had been convinced that he was gone. That he had been lost forever to whatever had afflicted him, had almost taken him away from her. She didn't know what to do for a few, brief seconds, form shaking and mouth agape, those wide, gray eyes still brimmed with soon-to-be-fallen tears. [color=#b14767]"Basty?" She inquired, the single word cracked. Broken. Margaery took one hesitant step forward, afraid that he could reject her at any moment, afraid that he could affirm for the whole clan how much of a monster she was.

She could sense the anger and the shock of her clanmates, the tension rolling off of them in hot waves. She ignored them though, her softened gaze fixated upon the bengal. She didn't say anything as Suiteheart hugged him and only after she pulled away did Margaery attempt to do the same, the tears coming faster now, harder. She would try to hold him close, not believing that this was reality. He had escaped death through some miracle (that she certainly wasn't in the position to question) and she couldn't be more grateful.

Margaery only vaguely heard him mention Beck. She was still gone, still consumed by a plethora of overwhelming emotions as she continued to try and simply hold him. [color=#b14767]"Don't scare me again like that," She whispered quietly, her words hoarse and strained, [color=#b14767]"I'm so glad you're alright."

[radeken]

“[color=black]Well, how ‘bout that.” So she’d be keeping her test subject after all. Neat-o. Radeken stood, eyes fixed on Bastille like she wanted nothing more than to pump him for information. What did it feel like? Walk me through it. Details, please. She hoped he would still remember everything by the time she did get around to pestering him.  “[color=black]Maybe that’s just how they do business down in Stranglewood.” She offered Rin in a flat voice betrayed by the smug smirk that pulled at her lips as she basked in the satisfaction of that pun.

She rolled her neck, growing very impatient because at this rate, it’s be a year before all of Bastille’s admirers were done worrying over him and Radeken could get some good data from him without easing her questions in around the repetitive tear-choked cacophony of ‘Tanglewood? Bast you died! Beck did this? Thank God you’re alright!’ Radeken sighed heavy through her nose. “[color=black]Glad we’ve got that settled, though. I’d hate to not be friends with the creatures from the black lagoon. Are we trading? I could go for a mud mask.”

[★ HAZEL]

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★  WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD

Hazel noticed it a fraction of a second before it happened: the jump in his pulse, like he'd been struck with defibrillators. But she still jumped, still yelped, when he lurched forwards, because deus in caelo, who did that? Her aura popped, confused, as she shuffled backwards, surprised - suddenly she froze again, in the midst of hastily wiping the tear tracks off her cheeks. He was just...staring, straight at her, his eyes unfocused and squinting slightly like he was looking at something too bright. Hazel was caught, transfixed by this, and didn't move a muscle.

She was steeling herself to open her mouth, to say something, anything, despite the turmoil of emotions rolling around in her head. But then he looked away, and Margy was dragging him into an embrace, and Hazel very suddenly felt like she did not belong here.

"You're...supposed to be dead." Hazel whispered, taking a step back. This seemed wrong, seemed so unnatural and surreal she didn't know what to do. "We - you didn't have a pulse, your heart wasn't beating, you were - " She abruptly cut herself off, on the verge of tears again. There was some sort of anger, some sort of distressed, I can't believe you really just pulled that anger bubbling in her chest, and fuck, not here, not now.

"If you ever do that again," Hazel said, dead serious. "I'll kill you." Then she promptly turned and left, ignoring Arion as the colt came trotting over, shoving his muzzle at Bastille in a friendly greeting.

★ — hazel — "speech" — eight months — the ascendants — tags — ★

[sup]c) miithers[/sup]

[Roy Mustang]

Oh wow, it really looks like Roy missed out on an extra special freakshow, huh?

Roy was in the Cleric's den, wide awake, when he noticed Warringkingdoms run off in a state of worry. It grabbed Roy's attention, the three legged bobcat getting up and limping to the entrance to the den. He watched his clanmates leave the observatory in a rather quick manner- clearly something has happened out in the territory. It must be a clanmate, if Rin left with her bag of supplies, and if he could hear a faint yell for a medic out in the territory. That yell, it sounded like Suiteheart! In the past few weeks, Suiteheart has been there for Roy while he's been going through a rough patch. The Flame Alchemist has certainly grown closer to her with their friendship, concern rising in his chest. What was wrong? Who did Suiteheart find? It wasn't something that involved her, did it?

He can't stand here and just wonder what's going on. No, he has to put himself out there and see for himself! He's not going to let his injury prevent him from getting over there! Even if he has to limp his way out there, he'll do it. Even if Rin or Radeken yell at him for leaving the Cleric den, he won't regret it. Ears drawing back to his skull, the melanistic bobcat limped out of the den, and then out of the observatory. It took Roy a bit, limping his way over- he wasn't as quick as he used to be. He wasn't used to walking around with only three limbs, it was a process he has to get used to.

When Roy finally arrived at the scene, Bastilleprisoner was awake. From his clanmates panic, and anger, he assumed that if he arrived earlier, he'd be walking in on an unconscious Bastilleprisoner. Hazel claimed Bast didn't have a pulse, his heart wasn't beating- oh, they thought he was dead. It seems like others thought the same thing, just by the surprise on others faces, and by their reactions to the leader's awakening. Beck said yes? What the hell did Beck say yes to? What could have happened during that peace talk that Bast showed up at the border without a heartbeat? Questions ran wild through Roy's skull, eyes narrowing as his gaze locked on the leader, not saying a word.

[BASTILLEPAW]

AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT

Well, then. That was particularly unexpected. Bastille stared blankly back at Rin as he sluggishly processed her words, his thoughts stalling and stalling before they started to work backwards. Beck agreed to the alliance. Margaery's warmth, the pressure of others so close. Hazel's radiance. Darkness.... darkness. No, there was something there, the flickering impression of mist and green eyes, but it was hazy and indistinct and the harder Bast tried to pull on it the harder it was to recall, and then-- oh. Right. Beck. The rope digging into his neck as the ground swung slowly below him. Things growing dark as he struggled to breathe and failed. He'd lost consciousness, clearly.

And evidently a pulse.

He was still staring at Rin when the realization dawned on him, and he would have sworn if he didn't catch himself. Fuck. Beck must have brought him back, he realized, and internally he swore again. Goddamnit, Beck. Fuck. Couldn't the asshole have just... let him wake up in Tanglewood? How the fuck was he supposed to explain this now? Maybe he should be thankful that the fucker brought him here, lest he hadn't woken up in Tangle, but goddamn. It was still going to be a pain in the ass to talk his way out of, particularly when--

Oh. The sudden slam of weight against him took him aback, derailing his tangent spiral of thoughts as he tried to catch up to the situation and figure out what the fuck he was going to do. Suite, he realized, too startled to do anything, too... numb to actually feel it. Maybe he should have been happy she cared, should have been able to feel her warmth and the comfort of her proximity or some form of relief that she didn't hate him, not really -- or even, even anger that she was this close and was pretending to care. He should have felt something, but there was nothing. Just... surprise, if anything. It felt like his head was spinning as his thoughts felt in circles and grasped for straws and struggled to get back to functioning order and figure out his course of action at the same time.

"What? No--" he started, reflexive, at her accusation, but then there was the whirlwind of Margy on him, too, and-- and he was taken aback all over again, not pushing her away and not pulling her in and stunned at the heat of her tears and the fact that they cared. Why? What was the point? And how? But the questions were lost as his senses were simultaneously muted and overloaded, and he just managed a hoarse, "Yeah." Because how was he supposed to argue with her, with Suiteheart, when he couldn't even feel the heat of his anger and they were so... suddenly compassionate?

Thankfully there was Luna to drag him out of this awkward tangle of... something, and his attention fixed on her immediately, intent. He so rarely saw her angry, and yet it seemed to be a trend towards him recently, he reflected ironically. That wasn't the point, though. His response came quick and before he even processed it, a raspy, "Of course I care about it more than my health. My health doesn't mean anything if my Clan is endangered." He hadn't thought twice about accepting Beck's deal, frankly -- he would let that fucker string him up every day if it meant protecting the Ascendants, and he wouldn't even fucking question that. A beat, and then, "Putting my health above you would be not caring."

He groaned internally at Rad's appearance, if not because of her general disregard (that was actually refreshing) but for the fact that she was also ganging up on Tanglewood. Fuck, fuck. His gaze was on her, flickering away from his mentor, and there was a beat for he realized how he was getting out of this. Again, she'd said. Again. Because her little trials had stopped his heart before. Before it could happen and had. Because-- he needed this alliance to work and letting them believe (know) what he'd given for it wasn't going to keep that alliance in tact for long.

"Look, regardless, Beck didn't do anything to me. Must of overdosed and he brought me back," he said, the words deceptively easy on his tongue despite the bitter taste in his mouth and the rasp in his throat. How to explain that rope marks? Bad reaction. Allergic reaction. Fuck if he knew, but his thoughts were shifting rapidly, struggling to come up with a believable explanation should they press him and hoping they wouldn't. Hoping they thought poorly enough of him already to accept that oh, of course it was something as stupid as a fucking overdose again. "It's nothing. You can't blame Tanglewood for me being stupid."

His stare went to Hazel, and for a moment he just looked back at her. If there was anyone who could make the lie bitter in his throat, it was her, but he supposed that didn't matter. Her aura was consistently tinged with that faint darker hue when she was around him these days anyways, and sure enough she was gone as quick as she'd spoken, taking that-- that golden light and warmth and vanilla-honey with her. (Flickers of mist and green eyes, that warmth radiating through the clearing, vanilla filtering through his senses, gold at the edges of his vision.) He blinked, feeling empty in her absence despite himself, and then there was Roy to fill her place.

[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS