God help the outcasts, the tattered, the torn
Seeking an answer to why they were born
So he'd had no answer from the Gods. Bastien stood up from the shrine slowly, as if caught underwater, and turned into the temple, unsure of what to do next.
His eyes breezed over the few people sat about in the main hall, wondering how none of them were caught in absolute hysterics over the possible loss of Rexanna. While he was looking at each, hating them for not being as distraught as he, his eyes fell on the shell in the middle of the room.
Of course. He hadn't thought to use it because he had assumed Rexanna was still out somewhere - but perhaps Samuel and Remi had taken her back to the Monster Hunter's Guild. It was possible, more importantly, it was hope. He marched up to the shell and lifted it, unsure of how it worked but determined he was going to try.
"This is Bastien. Is anyone there? I need to know if Rexanna is there." He barked into the shell, feeling a little like a crazy man but too desperate to care.
His eyes breezed over the few people sat about in the main hall, wondering how none of them were caught in absolute hysterics over the possible loss of Rexanna. While he was looking at each, hating them for not being as distraught as he, his eyes fell on the shell in the middle of the room.
Of course. He hadn't thought to use it because he had assumed Rexanna was still out somewhere - but perhaps Samuel and Remi had taken her back to the Monster Hunter's Guild. It was possible, more importantly, it was hope. He marched up to the shell and lifted it, unsure of how it worked but determined he was going to try.
"This is Bastien. Is anyone there? I need to know if Rexanna is there." He barked into the shell, feeling a little like a crazy man but too desperate to care.
Winds of misfortune have blown them about
You made the outcasts, don't cast them out
BASTIEN
