God help the outcasts, the tattered, the torn
Seeking an answer to why they were born
After a nebulous and unknowable amount of time had passed, Deimos' voice cut into Bastien's world, close enough that it didn't blend into the inaudiable chatter of the people in the temple. He looked up, tearing his eyes away from Rexanna, at the man. For the moment, he had not connected the dots: not thought much beyond knowing that Rexanna was dead and was not returning; had not realised what Deimos had had to do with it.
As for the suggestion...he desperately did not want to move, felt like there was a chain bolting his chest to the ground...but he understood why. To move her out of the public eye, away from the bystanders: normally Bastien loved to be the centre of attention, but now all he wanted was to hide Rexanna away, keep her his forever. None of them had loved her as he had, none of them deserved her.
"Mmm." He hummed, standing and lifting her in his arms easily. She always had been easy to carry, slim and seemed to fit against him so well, even now with her arms dangling down past his. Lifelessly, he followed Deimos into the room and shut the door behind them with his foot. There were a few beds out in the room; he headed to one by the wall and put her on it, knowing she liked to sleep further away from windows than he did. Once she was down he stood by the side of the bed, staring listlessly.
"...One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die." He whispered, eyes threatening to fill up with tears again.
As for the suggestion...he desperately did not want to move, felt like there was a chain bolting his chest to the ground...but he understood why. To move her out of the public eye, away from the bystanders: normally Bastien loved to be the centre of attention, but now all he wanted was to hide Rexanna away, keep her his forever. None of them had loved her as he had, none of them deserved her.
"Mmm." He hummed, standing and lifting her in his arms easily. She always had been easy to carry, slim and seemed to fit against him so well, even now with her arms dangling down past his. Lifelessly, he followed Deimos into the room and shut the door behind them with his foot. There were a few beds out in the room; he headed to one by the wall and put her on it, knowing she liked to sleep further away from windows than he did. Once she was down he stood by the side of the bed, staring listlessly.
"...One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die." He whispered, eyes threatening to fill up with tears again.
Winds of misfortune have blown them about
You made the outcasts, don't cast them out
BASTIEN
