bentley tints on, fendi prints on | open + bunker completion

[BASTILLEPAW]

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the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags

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Bastille was so close to finishing his god-forsaken bunker that he was almost happy to have it over with. The last phase had resulted in the completion of the ground floor before he had admitted that he would probably need to take a break before he passed the fuck out; this time, he should be able to finish everything off. Besides, he had no reason to burn anything today, which meant he wasn't forced to ask Roy for help potentially putting the flames out. Win-win situation, in his opinion.

So, after a morning patrol and brief check in to see if he was needed for anything, Bastille headed outside. His bunker was established a few yards away from the entrance, lending them some space in between but not too much -- after all, anyone living out there should still feel a part of the group, and all that sappy ass shit. The mud-clay-rock walls (it was a strange mix of ground matter that he had drawn forth to shape his building, but it seemed sturdy enough, if a little... marbled looking) were still holding strong, and after inspecting them for any damaged he made his way inside.

The structure was meant to house larger members, to the extent that a dragon could at least fit into the ground floor and establish a room in there; as such, the initial walls he'd put up were fairly tall, and the doorway was more of an open-concept barn opening -- tall and large enough for someone that size to actually get in. On one hand, it didn't offer as much protection from the elements with such a larger opening; on the other, there were more walls structured inside, setting off the rooms and the stall he'd developed for Arion. (He'd have to add one more for Octavia, he noted, adding that to the list.) It would be secure enough, in his opinion, and if the opening was an issue... well, he'd figure out how to add barn doors or some shit. Whatever. Problem for later.

There were windows in each room, letting sunlight filter in through the sides, though he had yet to figure out how to get glass in place for those so they were currently just open air slots. Again, problem for later. Now, he focused his attention on the sky above him, eyeing the staircase that lead to no where that he'd crafted last time. Time to put in the upper floor.

It was a bit harder to manipulate the ground when the project he was working on was no longer directly connected to the ground. It took him significantly longer, and a hell of a lot more energy, to work out a system of coaxing the clay-rock sentiment up from the ground, encouraging it to snake straight up from the ground in parallel to the walls of the bunker before veering sideways to form the floor he was designing. It was working, however, and with some satisfaction he noted that this was taking up so much of his energy that his powers didn't have the time or resources to start acting up in other ways. Thank fuck for that, honestly.

It took him several hours and a couple of breaks to finish off the upper floor, and he leaned back with a yawn as the roof finally slotted firmly into place. Bastille was standing on the second floor now, having come upstairs after getting the flooring down, and he took a few minutes to circle through the rooms, checking that everything was even, assuring that the windows offered enough real light, inspecting the one common area at the end of the hall to make sure that it was roomy enough. Everything seemed in order, and with another yawn the corporal wandered back down the stairs for a final check. It'd been awkward, trying to rearrange his lower level floors to accommodate another stall, but everything checked out in the end. Well, okay, he still needed to add doors to the stalls somehow, but he was likely going to need wood and steel for that, and he needed to actually track those resources down before he could manipulate them. That, along with the glass for his windows, was on his shit to worry about later list still.

He wandered out the front door, and after a beat of studying the entrance, decided to offer Margy one more peace offering. It was much fucking harder than he would have anticipated, with his energy so low, but after ten more minutes he'd prompted a small cluster of roses to grow on either side of the entrance. Good enough. At that, Bastille drifted back inside, deciding that he needed something to get his blood sugar levels back up or something. "Bunker's finished. Well, mostly," he declared, idly, before going to find some fucking food before he passed out.

[Margaery]

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Windows.

Margaery had asked Bastillepaw about a room with windows upon her arrival, afraid not of the natural darkness that fell when the sun dipped below the horizon but the darkness within herself- the darkness that danced and tugged on her, urging her to give up... to give in. Encountering the dark was inevitable, she had rationalized with herself upon moving into a substitute room, but had she at least had access to sunlight, she could keep her grip on the monster that lurked beneath her pretty surface.

But the Bunker was finished and she could finally abandon her shabby room in the Observatory and finally relish in the daylight she loved so dearly. And oh! Were those roses? Was Bast growing them in honor of her or for simple aesthetics? She decided not to ask the male and merely picked her way towards the bunker quietly, nothing that it certainly would serve its purpose in housing larger animals. Larger animals like Suite... Whom she had yet to move in. How awful it was to not be able to live with her own wife. She supposed she had brought that upon herself though. Fear was an awful thing to try to live with.

[color=#b14767]"It looks wonderful, darling," She extended in a soft voice, sounding wearier in that moment than she had the past week or so. All the turmoil and chaos in her life had steadily began to erode her carefully crafted facades and now, around Bast and Bast only, she tried not to hide what she could only consider her internal struggle. [color=#b14767]"You look faint... Be sure to take care of yourself!"

[BASTILLEPAW]

It was clear that Margaery was struggling. He wondered idly if it could possibly only be the vampirism, because things seemed... deeper. Like there was something more there, something tied up with it all that he just didn't understand. To him, vampirism seemed pretty straight-forward and non-problematic: they ate the same prey as everyone else, just a bit... differently. What did it matter? It wasn't like drinking the blood of her prey meant that she was any more likely to dissolve into the lifestyle of a murderer than anyone else. Hell, no one even seemed to care about Margy's condition, so he found it difficult to understood why she did.

Alas, not everyone carried his same sense of apathy, and he knew better than to assume that anything was as simple as it seemed. Sure, there was still the issue with Suite's polar bear form, and whatever else drama they had brewing between them. Bastille wasn't going to pretend that he fully grasped the demons that were dragging Margy down. He also wasn't going to question her on them if she wasn't interested in talking, so as he found himself standing besides her, he simply offered a shrug.

"About time it's finished. Well, I still need to find glass for your windows, but that's a later concern," he staid, before blinking. He probably did seem rather drained, but he wasn't too worried about it. He was just relieved that his energy was draining, honestly. He waved off her concern with a yawn, and drawled, "Yeah, yeah."

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the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags

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[Suiteheart]

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Suiteheart had, unfortunately not been around whenever work was done on the bunker. She was always gone whenever construction was happening, and she always cursed herself. However, she knew she would be of no help. She possessed no powers, and her large paws were heavy-handed; she broke most everything she touched. It was difficult to not ruin all she tried to fix or make.

Her eyes swept over the bunker, and an impressed look bloomed on her face. The bunker was made of earth, and it almost reminded her of an adobe home. It was in far contrast to the metal building of the Observatory. It was a nice change, and it was big enough that she wouldn't have trouble squeezing through doors to get into rooms. It was all so wonderful, and there was no telling how many actual hours of hard labor had gone into this project. Bastillepaw was hardworking, that was certain. When he wanted a task completed, he saw it through. It was one of the things she liked most about the kid.

"Bast, this is amazing," Suiteheart commented, coming to a halt beside the pair. She flashed the boy a smile as she returned her eyes to the completed bunker.
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