11-27-2018, 11:08 AM
and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
(It isn’t ours)
Castile peers down at Sabra with an unwavering stare.
(Kill it)
She pleads and she gropes for forgiveness. The child wasn’t consensual. It’s the product of rape.
(It will only be a reminder)
A step brings him closer, a looming giant, a murderer.
(Destroy it)
The whirl of his thoughts is interrupted when Ilma intervenes, placing herself between him and Sabra. A vehement gleam in his eyes surfaces and fixates on her. ”Yes,” he growls in retaliation, the primal nature firing to life inside him. Instead, his victim will live on through Sabra. Just when Castile thought the travesty had entirely ended, it’s spurred back to life; this time, however, it has a heartbeat and it shares blood with Sabra. It stirs in her womb, wanting release.
Another contraction wracks through her body.
Castile spares her the briefest of glances, but it’s Ilma’s brash manner that holds his attention most, demanding his focus to remain tunneled on her. Last she had seen him, he was broken. He was lost and he was drowning in anguish.
But he has changed so very much.
Then, he may have backed down and submitted to her chaste, but now? A foreboding growl erupts from him, nearly shaking his entire core as their eyes heatedly meet. ”The child of a damn rapist and murderer is not mine!” His snarling tone is far more perilous than either have seen or heard. Scales ripple across his body, fleetingly, and his mismatched eyes flash darkly. ”I will never be its father,” the fact of the matter is spat venomously. The truth marinates among them. It’s painful. Like knives, it buries deep into them all, twisting agonizingly. ”Never tell me how to handle my family.” Ilma had a soft part of his heart, a rarity outside of his lovers, but it hardens to steel in this moment.
His instincts are clouding him.
(Kill it)
A hiss slips as Castile steps back and away to allow them space. Like a starving shark, he circles and paces around them in wait. Sabra is the one to grasp his attention now. They lock stares occasionally, but he only nods in a silent encouragement. He cannot – will not – blame her. This isn’t what she wanted, that much he knows. To first face death and now this? He cares for her, for her safety and comfort, and for their own two sons – but this? This abomination? Castile snorts at the thought. He could very well leave and take Ilma’s advice, but his heart keeps him near to Sabra, refusing to abandon her again.
Castile peers down at Sabra with an unwavering stare.
(Kill it)
She pleads and she gropes for forgiveness. The child wasn’t consensual. It’s the product of rape.
(It will only be a reminder)
A step brings him closer, a looming giant, a murderer.
(Destroy it)
The whirl of his thoughts is interrupted when Ilma intervenes, placing herself between him and Sabra. A vehement gleam in his eyes surfaces and fixates on her. ”Yes,” he growls in retaliation, the primal nature firing to life inside him. Instead, his victim will live on through Sabra. Just when Castile thought the travesty had entirely ended, it’s spurred back to life; this time, however, it has a heartbeat and it shares blood with Sabra. It stirs in her womb, wanting release.
Another contraction wracks through her body.
Castile spares her the briefest of glances, but it’s Ilma’s brash manner that holds his attention most, demanding his focus to remain tunneled on her. Last she had seen him, he was broken. He was lost and he was drowning in anguish.
But he has changed so very much.
Then, he may have backed down and submitted to her chaste, but now? A foreboding growl erupts from him, nearly shaking his entire core as their eyes heatedly meet. ”The child of a damn rapist and murderer is not mine!” His snarling tone is far more perilous than either have seen or heard. Scales ripple across his body, fleetingly, and his mismatched eyes flash darkly. ”I will never be its father,” the fact of the matter is spat venomously. The truth marinates among them. It’s painful. Like knives, it buries deep into them all, twisting agonizingly. ”Never tell me how to handle my family.” Ilma had a soft part of his heart, a rarity outside of his lovers, but it hardens to steel in this moment.
His instincts are clouding him.
(Kill it)
A hiss slips as Castile steps back and away to allow them space. Like a starving shark, he circles and paces around them in wait. Sabra is the one to grasp his attention now. They lock stares occasionally, but he only nods in a silent encouragement. He cannot – will not – blame her. This isn’t what she wanted, that much he knows. To first face death and now this? He cares for her, for her safety and comfort, and for their own two sons – but this? This abomination? Castile snorts at the thought. He could very well leave and take Ilma’s advice, but his heart keeps him near to Sabra, refusing to abandon her again.
castile
@[Ilma] @[Sabra]