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[align=center][font=georgia]are you ready for another BAD POEM
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Bastille didn't think she was crazy, though. His aura had a certain signature, and he had always known that he radiated an energy that suggested to most power-wielders that he was more than just your average tom. He was actually kicking himself for not noticing her earlier, for not taking a closer look at her aura and her mannerisms and seeing what was so clearly obvious. He was supposed to be good at this sort of thing. His powers were like an extension of himself, with a level of control that he was literally born with. How could he have missed this?
Before he could spiral into that vicious sense of failure, however, Bastille's focus was coming back to her words. She was so sure, so confident, and so right. A grim smile emerged as his fur crackled with a rush of energy, a faint jet-black glow shimmering over his pelt as the manifestations of his many souls wavered in the air behind him: a ghostly Echo of Death's Call, Pollutedsoul, and Zaniel Bellator. Between them flickered the faintest impressions of Grimmkit and Frenchpaw, but before either could truly form all five had vanished entirely, just a whisper of the spirits' voices to suggest they'd been there at all.
Bastille was left standing as he had been before, only Octavia had spooked a few steps away from him. He seemed perfectly calm, and he was; his souls were a second skin, his control of his powers and the spiritual realm as fluid to him as air in his lungs. "I am," he agreed, gaze still locked on Hazel's as he watched her, "I carry three reincarnations and the fractures of two other souls; two of which were both reincarnations themselves. I understand perfectly what you are going through."
His powers were crackling close to the surface, now, and his senses were a live-wire; he picked up on the vaguest shift in her aura and blinked, recognizing the signs that one of her reincarnations was manifesting. It had his skin itching to help her somehow, but instead he just continued evenly, "Do they talk to you sometimes? Try and influence your decisions, to live through you?" He could hear the murmur of voices in his head then, because he had tempted the beasts by allowing them to manifest so clearly. Bastille was good at ignoring it, though, and it was even easier with Hazel and Octavia there to ground him.
He stalled slightly at her description, and let out a low, darkly amused laugh. "Yeah. I get that sometimes, too. Or else I'm dreaming and it feels so real, but I wake up and I'm Bastillepaw still and suddenly the voices in my head are even more demanding." He was still watching her, pale blue gaze unwavering. "Used to get nightmares, before I realized that there was no point in fearing my past lives. Not when I've already died in them."
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i'll never bow 'till i'm six feet under
listen to the sound of rolling thunder
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[align=right][color=#e3dfdf][size=7pt]-- #bastbby
[/fancypost][align=center][color=transparent]based on vestige, (c) madi
bastillepaw - male - frenchpaw x limits - 9 moons - knights of eden - apprentice - lilac smoke - light blue eyes - three souls, two soul fractures* - single
*souls: pollutedsoul, echo of death's call, zaniel bellator (all reincarnated into bastille); soul fractures: grimmkit, frenchpaw (little pieces of both were absorbed into him)
POWERS;
telepathy - the sight - ability to take away pain - ability to absorb spirits (0/9) - emotion manipulation - sound & molecule manipulation - scent manipulation - memory manipulation - invisibility - shapeshifter
INTERACTIONS;
hard - attack in [color=#a25367]bolded #a25367
- no kill - no maim - pm for capture - pm for plot
