you only get what you grieve ; any

[Castile]

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

The serpent king is no more.

What conversations and diplomatic transitions occurred in silence and solitude. With the Resort behind him, Castile’s attention funneled on Loess. He was to be General, to simply hold an idle rank, and horde his family within the borders, but it became so much greater than that. It was peaceful, the ascension, despite the adrenaline and rage still pouring through Castile’s veins. His hunger escalated. His thirst for power was out of hand.

But he didn’t have to attack or fight for the crown thrusted upon him. It nearly reminded him of his time tossed into the role as Regent. In reality, he was a glorified babysitter for Lepis.

His memory has not at all faded. Loess is easily recalled – from its wiry shrubs to the rocky outcroppings – and traipsed when another unfamiliar scent presses a soft kiss against the lining of Castile’s nostrils. An intense, predatory stare roves across the hills until determining the source. Keeping himself grounded, his wings nestled against his sides, he addresses the outsider in a languid manner that masks his skepticism and scrutiny. ”Welcome to Loess,” his voice is gruff, grating against his throat as he takes the final steps to place himself in front, facing him. ”The name’s Castile.” He is no longer known in these parts – hell, he may be very unlikely known anywhere – and yet tasting his own name in a mild introduction seems odd and displaced.

Soon, he vows to himself, he will be a familiar face to many. It may take time, but the world will learn not to tread on him.

castile