[color=E0D6C0] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wFqApY1.png[/img][/center][color=E0D6C0][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/fXzi00H.gif[/img][h1][b][color=30A4D9]Bastion[/color][/b][/h1][/center][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wFqApY1.png[/img][/center]
[center]
[color=30A4D9][b]Race:[/b][/color] Warforged  
[color=30A4D9][b]Class:[/b][/color] Warrior  
[color=30A4D9][b]Location:[/b][/color] Airship; Top Deck - Bar
[color=30A4D9][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] Talis
[color=30A4D9][b]Equipment:[/b][/color]  
[hider=equipment][color=F9D972]☼[/color] Tower Shield  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Greatsword made of Glacium (A material as hard as steel, yet formed from eternally frozen ice.)
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Titan Chain – A reinforced tow chain housed in his left palm, functioning as a powerful grappling hook.  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Aged Leather Satchel   
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Worn but cherished scarf
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Maintenance Kit .
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Heavy-duty rations (for companions, not himself).  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] A delicate glass figurine of a bird—an old keepsake.  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] A locked, timeworn journal—contents unknown.  [/hider]
[color=30A4D9][b]Attire:[/b][/color]  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Etched and weathered plating with bronze accents.  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Fitted harness for carrying supplies.  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] Worn scarf 
[color=30A4D9][b]Gold Balance:[/b][/color] 25 gold
[color=30A4D9][b]Injuries:[/b][/color]  
[color=F9D972]☼[/color] None, but signs of past battle damage remain.  
 [/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wFqApY1.png[/img][/center][/color]
Bastion had gone very still.

Not out of fear. Or confusion. Or even concern.

Just... stillness. Like a sculpture that had been animated for just long enough to walk into this moment, and was now deciding what to make of it.

A lot had happened in the time it took him to sit down.

There was the gnome with the beard and the velocity, and the complete disregard for spatial awareness. He had made contact with the bartender names Gears in a manner Bastion could only describe as "not normal." Bastion had winced internally at the sound of the collision—a solid clang, followed by a flurry of commentary, admiration, and what he suspected might be... flirting?

Then the cloaked girl had become the [i]not-cloaked girl[/i], and she was made of stars. Truly—her skin shimmered like the night sky, like someone had bottled midnight and poured it into her veins. Bastion thought it was beautiful. So did Wendel, apparently, whose gentle kindness in the moment made Bastion feel... something. He didn’t know what, exactly. But it was good.

There was also yelling.

Not from Wendel. Not from the girl. From the dragonborn.

Again.

The same one who had shouted at Bastion earlier. The one who saw threats in metal and now shadows in skin. Bastion didn’t react this time. Not outwardly. He just noted the pattern. Logged it. Watched.

But then Menzai moved.

The man in white. The wolf. There was a sharpness to his motion—graceful, yes, but also controlled. Contained. Like something dangerous had just brushed against its leash. Bastion watched as he crossed the deck with purpose, quiet and low like a storm cloud on four legs.

It was a lot to process.

And then...

There was a sound.

Not a scream, exactly. Not quite a yelp.

More of a... [b]yeep.[/b]

His eyes turned.

She had fallen. The red-haired woman at the edge of the bar—the one with the big eyes and the papers trying to escape her bag, and the posture of someone who had been holding their breath for far too long. Now she was on the floor, limbs tangled, dignity slightly dented, insisting she was fine in a voice that said otherwise.

No one else moved.

So Bastion did.

He stood up slowly, the joints in his legs releasing a soft hssssk as he did so. One step. Two. His footsteps made no hurry, but they were heavy enough to be heard. He stopped beside her, tilting his head down like a confused animal.

[color=30A4D9]"You fell,"[/color] he observed.

Talis blinked up at him from her seated sprawl. [color=olive]"Yes,"[/color] she replied weakly. [color=olive]"That... that did happen."[/color]

A pause.

[color=30A4D9]"Do you require medical assistance? Or a blanket, perhaps?"[/color]

Talis stared at him.

Then laughed. Just once. A startled, breathless sound like a hiccup got caught on a giggle. [color=olive]"No blanket, thank you. But a do-over would be great. If you have one. Do those come standard, or...?"[/color]

Bastion crouched down. It was not a graceful movement. His knees made a mechanical creak, and his scarf hung awkwardly around his plated legs.

[color=30A4D9]"I do not have a do-over,"[/color] he said. [color=30A4D9]"But I can offer a hand."[/color]

He extended it. Carefully. Like he was presenting her with a gift.

Talis looked at the hand. Then at him. Then back at the hand.

[color=olive]"You're very... tall,"[/color] she said. It sounded like a warning. Or maybe a confession.

[color=30A4D9]"Yes,"[/color] he agreed. [color=30A4D9]"And you are very on the floor."[/color]

That earned another tiny laugh. She took his hand.

He pulled her up with alarming gentleness. For someone made mostly of metal and wood, Bastion moved with the kind of careful precision you’d expect from someone holding a newborn chick. He even dusted off her satchel for her when she wasn’t looking.

She swayed a little as she regained her footing.

[color=olive]"Thank you,"[/color] she murmured, cheeks redder than her curls. [color=olive]"That was very kind. And I, uh... I meant to do all of that. Just so you know."[/color]

[color=30A4D9]"The fall?"[/color]

[color=olive]"The whole thing. Dramatic flair. I call it character development."[/color]

Bastion paused, processing.

Then nodded.

[color=30A4D9]"I don't understand."[/color]

There was a long pause.

Talis stared at him again, uncertain if she was supposed to walk away now. Bastion stared at her, uncertain if she was perhaps [i]broken[/i]. Neither moved.

Finally:

[color=olive]"I'm Talis,"[/color] she said, because someone had to talk if neither was going to leave. [color=olive]"Professor. Formerly. Kind of. It's complicated."[/color]

Bastion inclined his head. [color=30A4D9]"I am Bastion. I am not a professor. Formerly or currently."[/color]

[color=olive]"Noted,"[/color] Talis said, lips twitching.

Another silence.

Then:

[color=30A4D9]"You have excellent posture,"[/color] Bastion added.

Talis blinked. [color=olive]"Oh. Wow. Thank you. I... try. To... stand."[/color]

He looked pleased. Or at least he tilted his head in a way that suggested someone had told him this was the correct reaction to a compliment being accepted.

Behind them, the bar continued to buzz with life. Menzai still loomed near the dragonborn, Wendel sat like a wise old sentinel, the pretty pink-haired girl shimmered with energy, and the gnome was probably doing very gnome related things.

But for a moment, none of that was imperative.

Bastion had found someone who had fallen.

And now she was standing again. And sometimes, that's all that matters.
[/color]