11-08-2017, 12:48 PM
Yes, she says, and something burns deep inside Castile, hurting. He didn’t know, or did he? With his eyes cast down he tries to piece together a puzzle to help him realize the clues that he ignored. Subtle glances were exchanged between them and Amet had flinched when he noted the minute flirtation bubbling between Castile and Ciri. He had touched her (but she flinched!). He took a place closer to her side.
The clues were there, but he was too dumb, too ignorant to take notice. His eyes only craved her and only flickered to Amet occasionally out of respect.
So, so dumb.
Yet he doesn’t pull away, not yet, because her muzzle is hovering mere inches from his own. When she speaks, it’s with a heavy breath from a lover. Beneath his forelock, Castile’s mismatched eyes slowly blink. His mind reels, his heart patters. It had been only them moments ago, but when she admits to being his – being Amet’s – suddenly Castile can see more around them. His head turns so that he can see the river race by and see the adults and children clustered in conversational knots. Their voices are so loud now and almost drown out the sound of Ciri’s voice as she asks why her. Hesitant, Castile musters the strength to look at her again as though she will disappear should he meet her eyes. There are so many things he could say, but they mash together to form a lump in his throat. Silence reigns for another moment longer – a period long enough to allow his mind to reflect on Amet – before he can bring himself to answer her with a question. ”Would it even change anything if I told you?” Emotion threatens to choke his words, but somehow he suppresses it enough to sound level while mentally attempting to distance himself from her.
But it’s so hard, so hard.
Swallowing past the lump, he nods to Ciri – his Ciri, he almost thinks – and regretfully peels himself from her side. ”Amet,” he doesn’t know why he mutters the name of his friend, maybe to burn it into his memory of her? To deter him from holding her closer for longer? His foot drags backward to still ease himself away and feel a cold breeze nip his side that had been warm against hers just minutes prior. ”I can take you home – to Amet – if you are strong enough for the trip,” despite his lust for her, he can’t bring himself to hold her here against her will, not when her heart flies with the Hyaline king. With the melancholy soaking through him, Castile’s body smoothly transitions entirely back to his norm, his wings feathered and his piebald coat taking place of scales. When he blinks again, his pupils are no longer slit and hungry for her, but soft and beaten - destroyed but hidden beneath his forelock.
The clues were there, but he was too dumb, too ignorant to take notice. His eyes only craved her and only flickered to Amet occasionally out of respect.
So, so dumb.
Yet he doesn’t pull away, not yet, because her muzzle is hovering mere inches from his own. When she speaks, it’s with a heavy breath from a lover. Beneath his forelock, Castile’s mismatched eyes slowly blink. His mind reels, his heart patters. It had been only them moments ago, but when she admits to being his – being Amet’s – suddenly Castile can see more around them. His head turns so that he can see the river race by and see the adults and children clustered in conversational knots. Their voices are so loud now and almost drown out the sound of Ciri’s voice as she asks why her. Hesitant, Castile musters the strength to look at her again as though she will disappear should he meet her eyes. There are so many things he could say, but they mash together to form a lump in his throat. Silence reigns for another moment longer – a period long enough to allow his mind to reflect on Amet – before he can bring himself to answer her with a question. ”Would it even change anything if I told you?” Emotion threatens to choke his words, but somehow he suppresses it enough to sound level while mentally attempting to distance himself from her.
But it’s so hard, so hard.
Swallowing past the lump, he nods to Ciri – his Ciri, he almost thinks – and regretfully peels himself from her side. ”Amet,” he doesn’t know why he mutters the name of his friend, maybe to burn it into his memory of her? To deter him from holding her closer for longer? His foot drags backward to still ease himself away and feel a cold breeze nip his side that had been warm against hers just minutes prior. ”I can take you home – to Amet – if you are strong enough for the trip,” despite his lust for her, he can’t bring himself to hold her here against her will, not when her heart flies with the Hyaline king. With the melancholy soaking through him, Castile’s body smoothly transitions entirely back to his norm, his wings feathered and his piebald coat taking place of scales. When he blinks again, his pupils are no longer slit and hungry for her, but soft and beaten - destroyed but hidden beneath his forelock.