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Bastion exited his bush home for the first time in months, the night before. The first thing he'd done was actually take his cousin up on her offer, and spent a night returning to a somewhat civil demeanor. Bathing in actual warm water instead of the freezing temperatures of a river.. it certainly put him in a better mood. And once his hair was combed to perfection, and new clothing befitting of his station was acquired, he set out with several other acquisitions to find the perfect target.

Because this, you see, was the only reason Bastion was out in the first place. This was his one and only plan, and he was proud of it. He simply needed to find someone befitting of what he had in store.

And so, his plan had brought him to Amityville. And it was there, while very casually people watching, that he began his search.

While people watching, Bastion found it helpful to actually be able to see the people - so when a pile of cloth started to walk his way, he virtually ignored it. Whoever had that much on her plate clearly wasn't the right person for what he had in mind. And he continued to think that, up until - and perhaps even a little after - she caught her foot on the pavement and flung forward, falling into his arms. He rose them to catch her nonetheless, ever the gentleman; and ever ready to help a damsel in distress. But he certainly hadn't been quick enough to save her load, all of which seemed to unravel at their feet and flood the ground with color.

His arms wrapped tight around her, enough to pick her up and settle her straight on her own two feet. And then they loosened, but remained where they were, while she settled in with the knowledge of what; or whom; she was holding onto.

She tried to jump away, but his hands were there, against her back, keeping her from jumping too far. As soon as they'd stopped her, however, he slowly released her from his hold; no sense in making her feel trapped. Especially since she was already so jumpy.

Careful, calculating gold eyes finally took her in. She was more, much more than just a pile of cloth now. Delightfully pleasing to the eye, but that was never enough. So he spoke, with a smooth, humble voice, while gesturing to the mess all over the floor. "Don't apologize. It's not every day I get to catch something so pretty in my arms. Can I help you with... all of this?"

The flush; the right kind of response for a compliment. It was enough to spurn further compliments in the future, simply to get that blush back on her cheeks. "Oh, don't worry about that for a moment. I love being imposed upon." He informed her, reaching down already to pick up the bundles that were still on the floor. He managed as much as he could, shifting them just enough to hold them all without impeding the sight of the ground directly ahead of him. He turned to look at her between the bundles, and gave her a knowing wink. "And now you've got yourself a willing spirit to carry your burdens as far as you want. One can only hope you wish it for as long as possible. Lead the way, lovely lady."

It was impossible to tell which dorm he was being led into, at first. Of course, it was kind of a victory that he was being led into a ghoul's dorm at all... but he tried not to think of it that way. He wasn't here to seduce some young vixen out of her innocence, after all. Not really. He was prepared to be quite the gentleman, in fact - but it still stood to reason that a ghoul was inviting him in.. and that made him feel just a little better about himself. A little more confident. And a little less desperate.

When he walked the halls, he actually started to guess which dorm they were in. The decor, and the others moving to and from their rooms, suggested these were undead. Some horsemen might have been turned off by the notion, but his clan revered the dead as brothers. Undead were far from a turn off, for him. Especially pretty ones. And the ghoul was pretty, there was no denying this.

Focus, he told himself. You've got a plan. Don't let a pretty smile and a blushing face distract you.

With his newfound confidence intact, he stepped inside and immediately splayed her bundles out on the couch where she'd laid her own. As she surveyed the damage, he watched curiously, finally realizing just how much fabric she was taking home. "A craftswoman." He whispered out reverently, clearly pleased to have found a woman of talent. Her hand caught his attention, and he took it in his own, pulling it with sudden intent until she was closer. Then he lifted it to his lips, pressing the back of her hand with a soft, lingering kiss. As he did so, his eyes remained firmly fixed, intense and searching, on hers.

"Sophie." He breathed against her skin. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am called Bastion, master jewelcrafter of the Death Clan. And this.." With his free hand, he pulled out a very shiny red rose from the vest he wore. "Is for you."

It was hard, from bloom to stem - made completely of crystal. He handed it to her with a very faint smile.

Flustered, and unable to even look him in the eye. He'd plucked a shy flower, unaware of just how prettily she could bloom. That was probably for the best - a woman self-aware would have trampled him down in a heartbeat. He'd had enough of being trampled.

"Shhhh," The poor ghoul was rambling, losing consistency in her thoughts simply because she had no idea how to act in a situation like this. He let go of her hand, and used his fingers instead to press against her lips, hushing her. "It's all right. You don't need to say anything. But you're wrong, so very wrong." He took the rose back, twirling it in his fingers in front of her. "You see, these roses, they're actually very common. We make many pretty trinkets such as these, nothing but crystal and fire. Not even an imbued magical ability. We make them for one simple reason. They're beautiful. And I make them because I appreciate beauty." He pressed the rose back into her hand, and closed her fingers around it. Both of his hands remained pressed around hers. "That is why there is no one more important than you, to have this token of my appreciation. Because I think you're beautiful. And that is my opinion to have, and to share. If you disagree, it's none of my concern."

He let her hands go, and put his own behind his back. His smile turned sly. "At least you were right in assuming I made them. But ah, I make much more wonderful things than this. Perhaps I will show you, one day. I have something in particular with me now, but alas, it's saved for someone.. special." His eyes tilted down, filled with sadness. "If ever there could be such a one. A token such as that which I hold is empty, meaningless, while I stand alone without someone to give it to. How sad."

Just tragic, really.

"Ah, no, it's not." Bastion sighed, turning away to stare dramatically at the wall. "I made it, one night, in a foolish moment of hopefulness. You see, I've been alone so long, it's been... difficult for me to really reach out to others. But when I heard that your school is having a celebration, a promenade.." A very long sigh escaped him. "It was a foolish, foolish thought. But I'd hoped to find a woman who would pity my poor soul and let me escort them there." He chuckled, just once, and shook his head. "Alas, I'm sure it was never meant to be. I should have known better than to think I could ever stand a chance at being gifted with the honor and privilege of such company. Perhaps the day was too hot, and my mind was hazy."

His head turned, just enough to glance at her sadly, and his hand reached up to cup her cheek. "But I know now that no one would ever desire the company of a wretch such as me. It is by a miracle alone that you have tolerated me this long. You, a fountain of beauty and youth. I await the word to fall from your lips, casting me back out where I belong."

As planned, the moment she let it escape that she was dateless, Bastion's entire demeanor changed to absolute shock. He stared at her, wide eyed and disbelieving, and his mouth opened and closed several times. Finally, he managed to choke out a few words.

"Impossible. Improbable! I can't tell if you're lying to make me feel better, or.. in Medea's name, could it actually be true.."

He took her hand back in his, and pulled it close, clutching it to his heart. His voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper. "Could the fates be so kind to this poor soul for once, or is this all a trick?" And yet, he hadn't even actually asked, just yet, and that heavy truth had the horseman falling, as though weighed down, to his knees. He kept her hand clutched in it, but he fell to one knee, staring up at her like a hopeful puppy.

"If it is true, and you are truly free from the grasp of a lover, then all the men of Amity are blind, and I wish nothing more than to take advantage of their disability. Would you spare your pity for this man, Sophie? I ask nothing more than your hand, and your company, at this promenade. I would never dare ask for anything more."

He paused, pursed his lips, and his expression turned sheepish - as if for one moment in all of his fancy words and attempts to sound adult, he couldn't help but spare a little bit of his real self - and the insecurity behind the charm.

"I mean to say. Would you go to the promenade, with me?"

He was charmed by the subtlety of her answer. There was no ghoulish squeal, no excited little jump or over-reaction. Sophie had simply considered his offer, and softly agreed. It became more difficult to remain unwoven from the moment, with such a gentle, charming soul agreeing to his whim. So when he smiled up at her, beaming with pride at her answer, it was far more genuine than he'd meant it to be.

"Good." He whispered quietly, standing back up to his feet and settling his hands on her waist. He used his hold to turn her back to him, and brushed her hair away from her neck. "Now you can have this."

A few seconds later, his hands appeared in front of her, lowering a necklace gently down onto her neck. It was no small affair - the chain itself was adorned completely in flat squares of gold, each one carved with the symbol of the clans as well as other, smaller, intricate designs. In the middle, a single ruby, faceted enough to catch the light from every angle, sat. Its shape was unique, because it had been broken diagonally right across the middle, and then soldered back together with a metal frame. It was a broken heart, re-fused together. And it very obviously glowed with a faint, pulsing rhythm.

"Now you wear my heart." Bastion murmured proudly. "And you must keep it safe. For my part, I will strive to be as worthy of an escort as I can possibly manage. You deserve nothing less than the best."