BASTIEN
There had been a train of logic he'd followed to get to where he was, though if Bastien had been asked about it, he might struggle to remember each step. He had begun with laying in bed, deeply missing Rexanna and wishing she would come to make him feel better (remembering she was dead but hoping it might be one of the hallucinations); when she finally hadn't he'd stumbled up with a thought.
This world had introduced him to magic, vampires, Gods, monsters...it struck him that re-animation, especially as Rexanna's soul was guaranteed to be around, had to be possible. Not in her old body, but in something new, maybe something like Azrael...he'd rushed to the Atheneum, presumably hoping to find 'Ascended Resurrection for Dummies' right out on the shelves. Anything to distract him from the deep confusion and despair, his grief mingling with the effects of the sickness.
After a delay where he'd spent a long time staring longingly at a puddle from a distance, he was there in the Atheneum. It wasn't long before he was surrounded by books, laying on the floor in a pile. Some of them were arguably relevant: books on anatomy, theories on souls and the afterlife, a book about the Voice. Others less so: a cookbook, a child's story about a grumpy Cloud Wyrm and a book on Attuned Partial Shifting.
In the midst of all this assorted knowledge, Bastien was crying. Odd, wailing cries that echoed throughout the Atheneum, his face aimed right up to the ceiling.
This world had introduced him to magic, vampires, Gods, monsters...it struck him that re-animation, especially as Rexanna's soul was guaranteed to be around, had to be possible. Not in her old body, but in something new, maybe something like Azrael...he'd rushed to the Atheneum, presumably hoping to find 'Ascended Resurrection for Dummies' right out on the shelves. Anything to distract him from the deep confusion and despair, his grief mingling with the effects of the sickness.
After a delay where he'd spent a long time staring longingly at a puddle from a distance, he was there in the Atheneum. It wasn't long before he was surrounded by books, laying on the floor in a pile. Some of them were arguably relevant: books on anatomy, theories on souls and the afterlife, a book about the Voice. Others less so: a cookbook, a child's story about a grumpy Cloud Wyrm and a book on Attuned Partial Shifting.
In the midst of all this assorted knowledge, Bastien was crying. Odd, wailing cries that echoed throughout the Atheneum, his face aimed right up to the ceiling.
If we should be arrested before we sleep
I'll see you outside in a few days or in a few weeks
I'll see you outside in a few days or in a few weeks
