Dance of Death

Hunched over and holding his rear with nonstop sniffles, Bastion felt a sensation similar to phantom pain. Though the arrow that had ruthlessly pierced his ass was gone, the memory of the entire situation remained, and that made it next to impossible for Bastion to scrub from his mind.

"My poor tushy," Bastion complained, weeping with a disconsolate and sorrowful expression. "I'm no longer chaste. I've been violated in the worst of ways, and no one is consoling me. My heart is aching so much."

"Nah, I just think that's your ass still aching, mate," Nemean quipped, earning an apt gale of laughter from Lux, Ezra and Altair. On the flip side, he received nothing but a hateful glare from Bastion.

"Whatever, you damned asshole," Bastion seethed, bristling like an enraged hound. However, that rage wasn't as intimidating as he suspected it to be. In fact, it garnered a reaction opposite of what he expected, and the blame mainly was his to bear.