04-04-2018, 11:18 AM
BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS ✧ ascendants — fireball — tags
[div style="background-color: #e3dfdf; border: 1px black solid; width: 500px; line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; margin-top: -1px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; color: black; padding: 10px; text-size: 9px"]Bastillepaw had never intended to join such a peaceful Clan. Really, he'd never intended to join any Clan -- he'd hated his mother's and left as soon as he was old enough to leave without them fretting over his health. He had always been staunchly convinced that group living simply was not for someone like him -- someone twisted and damned and destined for failure. None of his past lives had done well with groups, or found a sense of family among them; none of them had quite fit in. Echo perhaps had come the closest, though he had in the end revealed his true colors -- he didn't care for the Tribe, he cared only for their leader, and once she was gone he left with her. Pollutedsoul had always been an outcast, on the outskirts, so eager to be involved and loved and apart of his Clan but always excluded. Royalty, his family had been -- but he'd still be nothing. And Zaniel was... well, different. An odd kid, and an odder adult; bitter and angry and not one to make nice with his family or their home.
And yet, here he was. A few weeks into joining the Ascendants, Bastille had yet to leave. He felt a stir crazy almost daily, trembling with too much energy, but he wasn't so sure that was for lack of fighting but rather because of his souls acting up. Still, though -- he did miss combat, and he missed the chance to take his aggression and energy out on someone. The Ascendants had yet to so much as be threatened by others, frankly. Even if he wanted to go after an enemy, Bast didn't have anyone to target. It was... fine, he supposed. He didn't exactly want to see his home attacked or his Clanmates injured, but it might be nice to get some action every fuckin' once in a while. (Surely Starry would let them defend themselves, right? That didn't go against pacifism.)
As he arrived at the border, he looked unbothered by the hulking presence of the dragon. Bastille was not easily intimidated, either because he knew he could hold his own or because he simply did not care for his personal safety -- it was hard to tell. As it was, his two favorite Clanmates were facing off against this dragon, and he would make sure nothing went wrong. (Luckily, it seemed to be another joining session, anyway.)
"Welcome, then," he said with a nod, catching the last bit of conversation. This foreigner seemed polite enough, and had done nothing to disrespect his mentor. That was good enough for Bast. "I'm Bastille," he supplied idly, before drawling, "We have maps stationed in the center of the Observatory for reference, if you're going to explore on your own." He eyed the dragon's frame, as if silently calculating if he would fit indoors. The Observatory was pretty large, but was it tall enough? Were the hallways wide enough?
Huh. Maybe he should start an extension project, developing some form of attached structure for their... larger members.
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]