Tyrants help build us

Bastien

How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised

As soon as Isla said she was interested in painting, Bastien perked up, obvious excitement in his eyes; another for the Sanctuary, perhaps? With so many people migrating away from the Grounds, they'd been depressingly low on members for quite some time. "Well, you are Ascended, which gives you the wonderful benefit of never having to sleep, hm?" He pointed out, gently waving his hand. "I'm sure you could find an hour in one of your nights every so often, and I would be more than happy to keep a canvas and paints ready for you."

Her list of members was not very long, but he supposed that was why she was still actively looking for more. Sam's name made him momentarily wrinkle up his nose; he'd always thought of the shrinking violet as a useless little shy thing, but maybe this was a sign he was finally living up to all the faith the Voice had placed in him.

"I would gladly join such a group. I...don't honestly know what I think. Every time I believe that we are closer to understanding, to a sort of peace, something else happens; the Gods interfere, the world changes." Bastien sighed, pushed a hand through his hair. "I am not suited for war. I hope the Gods will sort it among themselves."

And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom