07-24-2018, 12:27 AM
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BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES
Bastille didn't really like Carolina. That much he had never bothered to hide from her, if only because he for one thing, did not care to, and for another, would have a hard fucking time trying to hide it. She was annoying, arrogant, and had literally no sense of common consideration as far as he was concerned. Sure, she was probably fine on a good day, and if they're met under better circumstances, he'd probably like her spitfire nature. But they hadn't, and she'd never bothered to convince him that she was anything but insubordinate and full of herself, and so Bastille had never bothered to get to know her as anything else. He was a very straight forward person when it came to these things: he would accept almost anyone, but if they pushed away, he wasn't going to pull back. If they never bothered to come back into his orbit, then so be it. He'd lived 9 months of his life alone, had raised himself, essentially — he didn't need anyone, as far as he was concerned. It was better that way.
Nevertheless, he hadn't been happy to see her just fucking die. He did have some sense of empathy, and while death didn't really move him as much these days (it was constant, and death now simply prompted a faint hum of memories: he was used to death following him, following Echo), he'd felt that Carolina died too soon. Most did, but he felt for Wash and he felt for a broken human who wasn't going to make it back home. He felt for her as much as he could, which was not much, but it was a flicker above complete disregard.
It was vaguely gratifying, then, to see her familiar aura attached to this unfamiliar body. There was already a cluster of people there, and their emotion ran rampant in the air, zinging like electricity and sinking into his skin. He could almost feel the rush of joy and relief to see her here, alive, could taste his Clanmate's happiness on his tongue. Bastille stopped slowly as he studied her, offering a nod. [b]"Welcome back, then," he supplied, mild. He arched a brow and added, casual, "Is Carolina V.2 willing to be one of us?" The words weren't hostile. Touched slightly with amusement, as if he'd gotten bored of being annoyed with her and was extending an olive branch. He glanced at Roy and rolled his eyes, snorting, "Aren't you getting tired of asking that, Roy?"
Nevertheless, he hadn't been happy to see her just fucking die. He did have some sense of empathy, and while death didn't really move him as much these days (it was constant, and death now simply prompted a faint hum of memories: he was used to death following him, following Echo), he'd felt that Carolina died too soon. Most did, but he felt for Wash and he felt for a broken human who wasn't going to make it back home. He felt for her as much as he could, which was not much, but it was a flicker above complete disregard.
It was vaguely gratifying, then, to see her familiar aura attached to this unfamiliar body. There was already a cluster of people there, and their emotion ran rampant in the air, zinging like electricity and sinking into his skin. He could almost feel the rush of joy and relief to see her here, alive, could taste his Clanmate's happiness on his tongue. Bastille stopped slowly as he studied her, offering a nod. [b]"Welcome back, then," he supplied, mild. He arched a brow and added, casual, "Is Carolina V.2 willing to be one of us?" The words weren't hostile. Touched slightly with amusement, as if he'd gotten bored of being annoyed with her and was extending an olive branch. He glanced at Roy and rolled his eyes, snorting, "Aren't you getting tired of asking that, Roy?"
[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]