GOT POSTCARDS FROM MY FORMER SELVES ; open, bottling thoughts

[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"]This idea had come to Suiteheart long, long ago. Her friend Benzedrine had suggested it to her all those years ago when she was leaving the city behind. Back then, she had been so bogged down with emotions and negative energy - the same could be said for this moment in time. But back then, he had told her that whenever he felt upset, he would write the words down on a piece of paper, place in into a bottle, and then toss the bottle out to sea, letting the ocean take it forever. So that was her mission.

The large polar bear had done her best to gather up all the empty glass bottles inside the Observatory. Well, she had gathered as much as she could carry. Which, given her current size, was more than enough for the whole Clan. She also held onto pads of paper and pens in various colors. Some bad thoughts were best written in dark blues while other ideas were best inscribed in soft pinks. She couldn't explain it, but it just felt right to her.

Anyhow, the Starstruck Guardian headed for Pebble Coast. As she reached the shore, the sun was beginning to dip into the horizon, coloring the sky in magnificent crimsons. It stirred something within her chest, and she wanted to watch the sunset though she had something more pressing to do first.

Settling down on the beach, the femme penned a little letter (rather difficulty as her paws were so large and the pen was so small). She hid its contents from any prying eyes that might have snuck up on her, but it went something like this: 'I'm terrified my family will never be whole again.' Once it was on paper, the terrible thought felt manageable. She folded the note so that the red ink couldn't be read and then stuffed it into a bottle. Suiteheart twisted a cap onto the container as tightly as she could get it.

And then she tossed it into the water a ways. The hungry waves lapped at it, dragging it further and further out to sea. Dark eyes watched it for a long while, not moving until the bottle was too far gone to be seen. She hoped her message would become like its encasement - a distance threat. She hoped it would never come true.

Taking one last glance at the waves, she turned to write another note.

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Margaery did not feel the need to announce her presence. Instead, she merely selected a bottle from the vast array that was offered to her, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and took a seat a good distance away from Suiteheart. For a while, she remained completely still, gray eyes trained contemplatively at the blank page that rested at her paws. There were so many things that she could write and toss into the waves... so many thoughts that had been troubling her to no end. Where did she begin?

'I don't want to become a monster but I believe I'm too late. I'm not strong enough to fight anymore.'

Off to a great start she supposed. The chocolate point couldn't hep but wonder what Suiteheart had written down. Probably something about Margaery not being good enough or messing up or- stop. The voice in her head was cool and collected and succeeded immediately in dragging her back to reality. Why had she let herself even think those things? She knew there was the potential of her wife hating her... but she'd never say that... would she?

'I wish Suiteheart and I weren't fighting. I wish she'd understand how I feel. I wish she'd realize that I'm not good. I wish she'd realize that I'm just some terrible liar. I hate to say it, but I halfway want her to give up on me.'

That one hurt to write out. Soon enough, tears had collected in the corners of her eyes and Margaery, unable to write another thing despite the many tumultuous thoughts circulating in her head, shoved the paper into the bottle. She gave it one fleeting, hateful glare before taking the thing and throwing it as hard as she could, ensuring that no tide would bring it back to shore where it could be read.

Why can't things be easy? Why does everything have to hurt so much?

[color=#b14767]"I need some wine."

[BASTILLEPAW]

[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"]
In his business, he took away the memories and stories that lost souls no longer wanted. Grimm hoarded them, the greedy fucker, and it made no difference if they were tragic or morbid or happy; a story was a story, and it was Bastille duty as host to continue to collect. So, sometimes it was someone trying to forget a tragic past, a traumatic event, or even someone they once loved. He saw all sorts of memories and heard all sorts of stories, and he served as whatever they needed him to be. He could ask questions, talk it out with someone, let them vent to him and carry on their way... or he could say nothing, simply taking the memory and leaving. It all depended on what they wanted, and how.

As he sidled up along the beachfront, he felt a similar draw that he usually felt when tracking a client. He wasn't sure how exactly Grimm sensed him, but he assumed it was something to do with their aura signatures and the creepy shit that went on with Grimm to begin with. He wasn't exactly surprised to find Suite and Margy at the end of the subtle tug, frankly. He watched for a moment as they wrote, releasing the bottles, and assumed that these were the thoughts, the memories, that they were trying to expel... Just not by his usual methods.

Bast sat down a few paces from Suite and contented himself with watching, wordless.

[Character Graveyard.]

LUNAFREYA N.F.

✯ — take these broken wings and learn to fly

space

Putting anonymous letters into bottles and letting them float away in the ocean, was not something Luna had ever heard of doing. So the female's curiosity had been sparked as she approached Suiteheart and her fellow Clanmates.

"What are you doing?" She would ask Suite.

space

✯ — Luna. The Ascedants. Easy. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[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"]'I like being a polar bear.'

That message felt odd writing down. Something inside of her, deep within her soul, had urged her to write the letters. She couldn't understand it, for the had always hated this form. At least, she has thought she did. This form was a constant source of pain to her loved ones, so why did she now feel some sort of attachment to it? A shiver ran down her spine as Margaery arrived, and Suite hurriedly threw the bottle into the drink.

Dark eyes watched the observer pen her letter before shoving it into a bottle and hurling it into the sea. Much like the chocolate point, Suiteheart couldn't help but wonder what the other had written. She could only guess it was something about being afraid of Suite's appearances. She tried to not let this thought bother her, but that was easier said than done. "Me too," she sighed, nodding at her wife's verbal want for wine. "But I'd like something a little stronger."

Bastillepaw stepped forward next, and she noted his curiosity. Had she known he dealt in relieving others of their troubles through memory manipulation, she probably would've knocked on his door more than once. There were so many memories in her head that she wanted gone. "You just watching or didja wanna write something?" she asked, offering the boy a piece of paper, a blue pen, and a bottle.

Lunafreya followed along a few ticks later. At her inquiry, Suiteheart shifted to face her. "Oh, so, basically, what you do is write down thoughts you're having, stuff it into a bottle, and chuck it into the fucking ocean. You can write down good or bad thoughts, it doesn't really matter. It's just a way of getting stuff off your chest without having to talk to anyone." Suiteheart wasn't always the best at telling others her problems in ways that were beneficial to all parties, so this was the best option for her. Holding out the supplies to Luna, she asked, [color=#73B1B7][b]"Wanna try?"

[BASTILLEPAW]

[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"]
Bastille glanced towards Margy with a flicker of a smirk, and was entertained to realize that her drink of choice was the same as his -- or, rather, the one that he claimed was his. In reality, nothing rivaled the taste of vodka, but he knew that was inherited from Zaniel and he refused to admit it. He was perfectly comfortable with lying to himself and everyone else about this one preference, thanks. Without a word, he conjured a glass beside the chocolate point, before glancing at Suite at her address.

He looked vaguely amusement, and gave a slight shake of his head as he said, "Nah. I've learned well enough that wishing things away doesn't really work with Grimm." He paused, as if realizing he rarely if ever mentioned the kit aloud, let alone made any form of reference to his souls. Odd, that -- he felt vaguely like Suite and Margy knew all of these things about him, when in reality, he'd never actually shared it with them explicitly. It wasn't that he was hiding, really -- he just wasn't the type to start chatting away about himself for no fucking reason. He gave a slight shrug, as if to indicate that he would explain some other time, and glanced towards Luna with a nod in greeting.

[Character Graveyard.]

LUNAFREYA N.F.

✯ — take these broken wings and learn to fly

space

When Suiteheart had spoken once more, the female's interest seemed to grow and her ears perked upward. "I'll give it a try." She said, taking a few of the supplies from the other Starstruck Guardian.

Carefully, Luna would write something on a piece of paper before she quickly folded it, making sure no others had seen what she had written and then her paws slipped the note into the bottle she had grabbed for herself. Humming as she went, the female flicked the bottle into the water and sky-blue eyes watched as the waves carried it off.

space

✯ — Luna. The Ascedants. Easy. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[guts]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 550px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 20px"]Maes definitely had a lot of things on his mind that were bothering him. It was hard not to, with all the recent happenings. It was all so overwhelming, coming back from the dead and seeing Roy again. Except it hadn't been the way he had expected, or even wanted. Things had changed a lot and he wasn't sure if he liked those changes.

Despite his cheery demeanor through it all, he still felt the weight of everything. He wished he could have handled it better like his friend was, but he supposed he'd have to give himself credit, since he had died in such a...gruesome way. Being murdered in a past life was hard.

He comes across the group and, looking over the glass bottles they had gathered, was intrigued by what they were doing. He had never done such a thing--stowing your worries inside a bottle and throwing it to the sea--but now, he decided it might take away some of the burden he could feel. The lab had never had the reason to do it before, so this was probably a good time to try it out.

Hughes says nothing as he grabs a bottle for himself, taking up a piece of paper and writing utensil before beginning to scribble down what he had been thinking lately. Then he chucked it into the sea along with the ones the others had written. He watches it be jostled about by the waves, carried further and further away until he could no longer see it. Then he grabs another one and starts to write again.