welcome to the dark side, we've got cookies

Wessex doesn’t know Bastien at all. As the newest member of their group, all she can do is find him and hope to learn more. Not only is he an Outlander, which means she wasn’t keen on him to begin with, but he is altogether almost the complete opposite of the Natural woman. Or so she will soon find out. It takes all sorts to make a group strong, doesn’t it? Or so she’ll tell herself. The night is deep and thick, starless, but heavy with the promise of Flowerbirth. Much like she did to Lucas, Wessex finds Bastien’s abode and raps sharply three times on the door. Should he be home, he’ll find an older, fierce woman at his door, decked out in the kind of leather that might have made his former self thinky very kinky thoughts. She leans casually against the doorframe, ready to pop in and get this quick meeting underway. They have things to do, Spires to break into, and so on and so forth. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Bastien was finding not needing to sleep anymore was truly one of the best things about his new form. He could fill his time with purely art, writing, thinking, making, creating-- whether he was doing this to occupy his mind from other things was something he did not care to consider, but he was sure to fill all of his new time with plenty of activity. When this night fell, he was painting. Great swirls of colour on a dark backdrop, moody and invoking his journey in this place, a flash of brilliance amongst the darkness of the imaginations of the townspeople. The knock at the door came as a surprise. He did not often get nighttime visitors (as much as he would have loved them) and was immediately suspicious. Warily he went to the door, cracked it open. There was still paint on his face and fingers, a clear hand-smudge down his shirt. He liked to think this would make him look like a true artist, not a child who got too deep into the paintbox. The woman before him looked stern. He didn't recognise her, but he did smile a little at her outfit (his kinky thoughts were still very much active). "Ah...hello, Signora. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Bastien Start by admitting from cradle to tomb Isn't that long a stay Life is a cabaret, old chum It's only a cabaret, old chum

Unfortunately for Bastien, Wessex hasn’t got an ounce of artistic ability in her, so his attempt to make himself look like more than a child with a paint set is… somewhat lost on her. To her credit, she does her best not to judge. She remains in the doorway, as it seems they are both quite busy and she won’t intrude long. “I’m Wessex,’ she says with a short nod. “and you’re newly bright, aren’t you?” A corner of her mouth lifts in a brief smile, revealing her own set of sharp teeth and a quiet sigh of satisfaction. “I’ve only come to say that things are happening and the Ascended are gathering. Be ready. You will be needed.” Hopefully he can deliver. No one likes the allure of greatness, only to find someone who performs poorly under pressure. Especially when there are so few of them. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

She did not seem interested in coming in, which was fine by Bastien; he didn't particularly want a lengthy visit right now. Wessex, she introduced herself as. He'd heard her mentioned before (though not usually in good terms) and was interested as soon as she asked if he was one of the 'newly bright'. "Yes." Bastien answered simply, grinning so his teeth were visible. But what she said next caused him to frown with some confusion. "The Voice did not mention anything to me. What will be needed?" He needed more information, some kind of confirmation this wasn't a weak attempt at a scam. Bastien Start by admitting from cradle to tomb Isn't that long a stay Life is a cabaret, old chum It's only a cabaret, old chum

It is true, she doesn’t enjoy a particularly good reputation, other than that Ascended lady to came back to life, bits and pieces about her are more likely to be bitter and sharp-edged than kind. But as the door is still only cracked and she is not welcomed, nay barely even listened to. An eyebrow raises at his question, and he’s lucky her hackles don’t flare up at the implied insult. Wessex scoff-laughs and begins to turn. Oh, poor little needy man. She doesn’t, and will never, spend her time explaining and validating her actions to men like him. “Get over yourself. Show up or not, I don’t care. Just passing along an order.” This is one Ascended who won’t presume to know her Goddess’s whims and pleasures. What Bastien does with the information is up to him. And what The Voice does with Bastien if he doesn’t show up is none of Wessex’s damn business. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

The woman scoffed and suddenly her tone seemed to be as hostile as her appearance. Bastien's face did a double-take, his feet taking a natural step back. He had not at all intended to cause any offence. "Well. Perhaps I shall miss it if all the 'bright' are as rude as you, Signora." Still..he hadn't had the chance to speak to many other Ascended (or at least, any other Ascended who were really involved in the Spire crisis). "Is there anything else?" Bastien Start by admitting from cradle to tomb Isn't that long a stay Life is a cabaret, old chum It's only a cabaret, old chum

“Rude?” she repeats, with an incredulous face as she pauses in her leaving. “You just insinuated that She should tell you about everything. That something is wrong with the message I’m delivering because you didn’t have a heads up.” Wessex’s arms cross in front of her, fixing the man with a frank, hard gaze. Bastien hadn’t even had the courtesy to introduce himself to his sister. Lucas was right - they aren’t team players. Why The Lady would want him is beyond Wessex’s ken, but she tries her hardest not to question the ways of their maker. Maybe it’s a number’s thing. “No,” she finally responds, indicating that she is quite done with this conversation and hasn’t the patience nor the time to entertain the youngster who seems to crave attention. He’ll either show up or he won’t. Either way, it’s not her problem anymore. The blonde woman turns sharply on her heels and leaves him to his... activities. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Bastien couldn't help it -- he rolled his eyes. What sort of person took offence so easily? He had thought this woman strong from his first impression but now he saw her in the light of finicky nobles from back home, who would pick at every word in a desire to feel superior. His fresh disdain clear on his face, he was glad to hear there was nothing else. "Then goodbye." He said simply, before clicking the door shut. It took a good amount of self control to not slam it for the drama, but it was a moment that called for slow and cold. Bastien Start by admitting from cradle to tomb Isn't that long a stay Life is a cabaret, old chum It's only a cabaret, old chum