Attempting Humility
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#1
Bastien
Bastien, occasionally in his life, would have a moment of clarity where he would realise he was being an absolute cock. He had one such moment as he returned from his visit to the shrine, glasses in his hand and disappointment in his heart. To add to his melancholy, it appeared he had been robbed, as both his candle and the necklace around his neck had mysteriously gone missing.

As he sat feeling sorry for himself, he had to eventually admit that he had jumped into this too soon. His church was good, something he wanted, but the deity chosen? She was much too fickle for this to work. Internally, he kicked himself. You never dedicated anything to anyone unless they were dead; otherwise they had the potential to fuck it up for you.

So, his church needed a facelift. But it was embarrassing to go to his followers with this without the place already set up, so he could present it as a magic trick almost, a transformation.

No, to help him with this endeavour, he had to go to someone who hated the church anyway, so would be honest about the changes needed. He had to go to Phoebe.

Walking to a teenager's clinic for advice did grate on him, but it was what had to be done. He tried to tell himself it was an act of great humility, noble and inspiring, but...he couldn't help feeling stupid and irritated at himself. The knock at Phoebe's door (because he could not dare to touch the handle, not after last time) was distinctly slow and frustrated.
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
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#2

Phoebe certainly wasn't expecting anyone...though she wasn't not expecting anyone either. It was sort of the constant state one lived in if they had her profession. People could show up entirely out of the blue with complications or a laboring woman - she was used to unanticipated company at her door. Not to mention all of the new folk she had been slowly collecting as acquaintances who could show up any time for assistance per her standing offers. Briefly she wondered if Emmett would be mad or think her stupid if he found out how generous she was being despite just scraping by on the bare necessities. Why did it matter what he thought?

Of course, there were some faces she still would never expect to see at her door. Bastien's was one of them.

Her expression fell at once, looking rather exasperated all at once. Be nice, Phoebe. He hasn't said anything stupid yet. Just...breathe. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar and all that - though she still couldn't figure out why anyone would want to catch flies. "Can I help you?" she said dryly. Whatever could he possibly want? She was a female medical specialist. She wasn't part of his church. He was well aware that she did not like him. Why on earth could he possibly think he had reason to come here?

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
Played by: lancydulac Offline
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#3
Bastien
The door was opened to reveal Phoebe looking particularly irritated at his presence, and for a moment Bastien wondered what the hell he was doing. Why did he feel the need to answer to this girl? But she was there, and so was he, and he did need some rapid changes. He swallowed his pride.

"Yes, you can. As it happens. Can I come in?" He asked, looking behind her to see if there was anyone inside; this was not a conversation one wanted to have next to someone giving birth. But all seemed quiet indoors, so he continued, hoping to tempt her a little more: "I...have come to make amends. Of a sort. And..." Bastien took a large breath as if preparing for something awful.

"I have come to tell you you were right, cara. About some things." Not all, but a good amount of them. Enough that Bastien had to talk to her, had to turn around his life here before it got too far down the path it was on.
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
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#4

What. What could she possibly help with!? The urge to tell him no purely out of spite was strong but she shoved it down. He had screamed at her, slammed a door in her face, broken her door, made her cry...did she really owe him her time or assistance? She didn't think so - and frankly spoke a lot about her feelings towards him. Usually Phoebe didn't think too deeply about her assistance being owed, and gave purely because it was the right thing to do. But Bastien rubbed her in such a wrong way, grated against every single nerve in her person, that she was searching for excuses not to help. But her vindictive side was not nearly so well developed as her good nature and so she stepped aside for him to come in.

"I...have come to make amends. Of a sort."

Why. Her brow furrowed, caught between confusion and an irritated glare. In most cases, making amends with someone was a selfless act, rooted in the need to make things right and bring peace to someone you had wronged. In Bastien's case? Well she couldn't help but assume that it was purely selfish. She wasn't sure she was ready to help him feel atoned for whatever guilt he carried that involved her. He deserved to sit and stew with whatever emotion he felt needed amending with her.

"I have come to tell you you were right, cara. About some things."

Insert the biggest gaping stare of the century here. Her already wide-eyes widened to near doll-like proportions. Her lips parted slightly as her jaw dropped. So shocked was she that she actually sort of slammed the door closed. Not a real slam, more a very decided shut of the door, and the handle seemed to be what was keeping her on her feet. She was right?? One more time for the people in the back: she was right????

"Say that again. No qualifiers." she said, still gaping at him. She wanted to hear him repeat it before she believed it. "Then tell me what happened that brought you to this conclusion."

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
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#5
Bastien
Phoebe's stare would have made Bastien laugh at any other time (with such fabulous expressions, she should really be an actress, he thought) but right now he was too caught up in her request to feel anything other than a dry frustration.

"...You were right. About the church...in of my choice of deity. No one there did anything they didn't want to, but..." He needed to mention that there had always been consent, wanted to make it clear he was not apologising for that for there was no sin. "I have realised I was. Ah." He looked down at his hands and fiddled with his fingers, a bizarrely uncertain action from someone usually so bombastic.

"...Swift, perhaps. In my dedication to Safrin. I have learnt more of the Divine here, been on a mission to do so, paid some prices..." He tapped the moon on the side of his neck, though he still wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. It looked beautiful but seemed to him a mark of possession, a brand.

"And I do not know what these Deities might do. So it was...foolish, to involve others so quickly, as you said." With all of it said, Bastien flopped down in a chair and stared at the ceiling, clearly finding this very difficult.
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
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Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
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#6

Phoebe couldn't help the tiny, little, yet oh-so-obvious self-satisfied smirk that curved her lips as he spoke. She crossed her arms and tilted her head as she listened to him explain himself. Okay, so he maintained he wasn't manipulating those who followed to worship as he did, but everything else apparently she had been spot on with. These were words and confessions she frankly had never thought she would hear coming from Bastien. He was so full of himself, so confident in his rightness, that everything he was saying was in complete discord with who she knew him as. He almost seemed defeated in a sense. It was an image that she had thought she would find amusing. Deserved. But instead, the smirk faltered.

He was pitiful. And despite her best efforts she felt sorry for him. It was irritating.

The blonde turned and briefly walked away, stopping in front of the little stove where she had a spicy tea brewing. She poured herself a cup, staring at it as she considered what she might say or do. "Tell me what has occurred that has brought you to this realization?" she said seriously, glancing back up at him. She held her mug with both hands, considering him with a serious gaze. "And why are you here to tell me this?" she asked. She wasn't a deity. She didn't know exactly how they all worked or thought, she only just had a faint grasp on Frey. What did telling her this accomplish?

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
Played by: lancydulac Offline
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Posts: 1,399 | Total: 8,707
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#7
Bastien
He watched as Phoebe took pleasure in his defeat. Of course she would; had their positions been reversed Bastien would be grinning and dancing. But her smile faded and Bastien watched her turn to the stove; he waited for his cup of tea and was rather insulted when he didn't get one.

Rubbing his neck, he sighed and shrugged. "I suppose...I already knew it was a risky idea when I began. But I have built my life on those, and I needed a thing to do. So I choose Safrin. But...I have since met the Golden Goddess, who was much more helpful and kind, and she told me more of the Gods...There is much I do not know."

"And..." He shifted, uncomfortable, spoke with a true sadness in his voice: "My Lady Safrin has begun to spurn me. So I need little point in continuing. But I think my church is...good for these people. It gives them a place to indulge."

He looked up to Phoebe with a small smile. "I come to you, signora, because sometimes an enemy gives better advice than a friend. How would you have my church formed?"
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
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#8

Phoebe listened quietly, trying her best to withhold judgement until he said his piece. But his piece never came. Excuses came. Things like this used to work. I needed something to do. It's the goddess's fault because she spurned me blah blah blah blah blargh. She sipped her tea and closed her eyes, allowing the burn of the hot liquid on the back of her throat distract her momentarily to keep from losing her cool. This man was without a doubt one of the most idiotic, plainly stupid, undeserving, sorry excuses for a human being she had ever met. The only thing that could possibly make him worse was if he went out actively trying to do harm to others.

"I come to you, signora, because sometimes an enemy gives better advice than a friend. How would you have my church formed?"

Oh it was advice he wanted? Well, she could give plenty of that. "Fine. I will give you advice but you won't like it." she said, pausing a moment to collect her thoughts, staring into her tea as if the leaves at the bottom might give her guidance.

"First of all, stop thinking of the deities as if you have some right to call on them and have them appear and give you attention whenever you want on demand. It is selfish and asinine to consider it a possibility. They are deities and you are nothing but a trivial, irritating little nothing in the vastness of their dimension." she said in a clipped, almost chiding tone. "A goddess cannot spurn you. She isn't your wife or lover or whore or even your friend. She is a goddess and she is not obligated to bend to your whim or fancy. And to think you've some right to her attentions when you have gone out in search of other goddesses? When lack of attention is all it takes to shake your faith? Why would she appear before you? Do you even know what the dynamic is between this Golden Goddess and Safrin? Have you considered for even a moment that perhaps the problem is not the goddess, but you, Bastien?" Phoebe's lips pursed and she glared out a window for a moment. She could not fathom having the gall to act as Bastien did, even if she were a bolder person. When she had summoned Frey to the shrine accidentally, she had felt guilty, and yet here stood a man who seemed to think he deserved face time with divine beings.

"Stop calling it a church. You aren't interested in worshipping any one deity, your are interested in indulgence. Frey's interests perhaps fall most in-line with your own desires but frankly you have shown a complete and utter lack of respect for the divine and their power over you and those who follow you. As you are, you do not possess the self-discipline or self-reflective qualities of a good leader when such stakes are at play." Phoebe looked back at Bastien. He was like a child with matches with these deities. "Form it as a brothel instead, or some other house of indulgence where you might ensure the safety of those who come to indulge in whatever it is the wish to indulge in. That is what I would recommend you do." Phoebe said and shrugged a little.

"Be mad if you wish, but you have proven time and time again you've no interest in claiming your responsibility or changing your ways to be a better person. If you aren't interested in growth as a person and trying to correct your errors, you've no business in dealing with the divine."

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
Played by: lancydulac Offline
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Posts: 1,399 | Total: 8,707
MP: 0
#9
Bastien
Well, he had asked for advice. He certainly got it. Phoebe not only told him off, she told him exactly what she thought of him and insulted him several times as well.

And as much as some of the words wounded...Bastien found he loved it. When she had done he laughed loudly and nodded, finding it oddly refreshing now that he mostly agreed with her. It had been so long since he'd seen such passion about anything! So long since anyone had dared to hate him so openly! With a clap of his hands, he nodded. "Ah, you are so right! I have been a fica assoluta! Such an idiot!"

It was relieving to admit to himself that none of this was working. It allowed him the freedom of a fresh start. "Please, tell me how you would name my...let us call it house, if the word church upsets you so. Perhaps...I heard of a wondrous life deity. Not to worship him, mind you, but I like the idea -- just life, itself. Perhaps something with that."
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
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#10

Phoebe deadpanned when he started to laugh. Was he…was he laughing at her? Flashbacks to finishing school when girls would gang up to tease and laugh at her over her subpar dress or improper grammar certainly did nothing to help her mood. Her nose wrinkled and lips pursed, her anger prepped and ready to snip at him, to remind him that he had been to come to ask for her opinion.

But he agreed with her. Now she gaped. What. Was. Happening. Phoebe sneakily pinched the underside of her arm. Nope. Not dreaming.

”A brothel. I would call it a brothel because that is what it is.” she said dryly. Seriously he couldn’t figure this out on his own, dumb dumb? ”The god Vi.” Phoebe said, knowing which deity he meant. ”But perhaps given your track record you shouldn’t try to emulate anything divine and just focus on this mortal realm. Call it what it is, keep it simple.” Stupid, she wanted to add but refrained since he was mildly agreeable at the moment.

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile


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