07-23-2018, 10:49 PM
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BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES
Divinity whispered like a prayer down his spine, little silver tendrils sinking into his bloodstream. Bastille's head shot up in the middle of training, the awareness shifting and igniting in his bones as he picked up on something. The murmur of something ancient, a weightlessness, floating: he could feel something profound and gripping running through him, a tether drawing him, his empathic senses humming with it. He was dazed as he started to follow the call, more caught up in the foreign emotions than he should be; normally he had so much better control over it, could feel himself distanced from the emotions he picked up on, but the lines felt blurry as he grew closer. Peri, he recognized, once he was close enough to register the sensation of her aura — her emotions were bleeding into his, a dizzying sense of awe muddling his thoughts.
Bast was shaking his head, as if to ward off the intrusion, as he stepped onto the beach. There were others there, and as he joined them, their emotions bled into him as well: surprise, confusion, concern, urgency. They pushed and pulled at him, and he stared at Peri blankly for a moment as he pushed through them, found his grounding. [b]"She was speaking to you?" he echoed, catching only the tail end of her explanation. His voice was a bit rough, and he blinked as if coming out of a daze as speaking helped him clear his senses.
Bast was shaking his head, as if to ward off the intrusion, as he stepped onto the beach. There were others there, and as he joined them, their emotions bled into him as well: surprise, confusion, concern, urgency. They pushed and pulled at him, and he stared at Peri blankly for a moment as he pushed through them, found his grounding. [b]"She was speaking to you?" he echoed, catching only the tail end of her explanation. His voice was a bit rough, and he blinked as if coming out of a daze as speaking helped him clear his senses.
[B]ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — [color=#e2e2e2]TAGS — [color=#e2e2e2]MOODBOARD — [color=#e2e2e2]PLAYLIST
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]