God help the outcasts, the tattered, the torn
Seeking an answer to why they were born
Bastien knew he was not welcome when it came to the Old Gods. Before he'd even Ascended he had made an enemy of Safrin and seemed to be getting that way with Frey; Ludo he only was on neutral terms with as they had never met. He knew The Voice could come to this shrine but he also knew others could as well; it bore a risk.
But he needed to know, a couple of hours after he had left Rexanna outside, if she was alive. If he was to write poetry to read at her funeral or to gift to her at their reunion. Perhaps it was more rational to wait for news, for it would come eventually, but love was not rational.
And oh, how he loved her. He had known it before, clearly, he would not have married her otherwise - but like this, with his heart feeling torn out of his chest and his eyes filling with tears every second they could not see her; he knew he loved her more than anyone he had ever known or ever would simply because if she was dead, he could not go on.
He knelt before the shrine and bowed his head, speaking softly to avoid eavesdroppers. "I do not know who is here, if anyone, now. But if any of you reside here, please, let me know how Rexanna is. If she--if she--" Bastien took a sharp breath. He had never been a man prone to a lot of tears and he tried to pull himself together. "If she lives. If anyone helps I will promise you whatever offering I can give. Paintings, food, anything, after Longnight. A favour. Just please, tell me how she is."
Plea given he watched the shrine carefully, unsure if anyone would answer.
But he needed to know, a couple of hours after he had left Rexanna outside, if she was alive. If he was to write poetry to read at her funeral or to gift to her at their reunion. Perhaps it was more rational to wait for news, for it would come eventually, but love was not rational.
And oh, how he loved her. He had known it before, clearly, he would not have married her otherwise - but like this, with his heart feeling torn out of his chest and his eyes filling with tears every second they could not see her; he knew he loved her more than anyone he had ever known or ever would simply because if she was dead, he could not go on.
He knelt before the shrine and bowed his head, speaking softly to avoid eavesdroppers. "I do not know who is here, if anyone, now. But if any of you reside here, please, let me know how Rexanna is. If she--if she--" Bastien took a sharp breath. He had never been a man prone to a lot of tears and he tried to pull himself together. "If she lives. If anyone helps I will promise you whatever offering I can give. Paintings, food, anything, after Longnight. A favour. Just please, tell me how she is."
Plea given he watched the shrine carefully, unsure if anyone would answer.
Winds of misfortune have blown them about
You made the outcasts, don't cast them out
BASTIEN
