05-09-2018, 11:37 PM
[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"]the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
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.
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]