04-05-2019, 08:07 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
”Temper, temper,” Castile teases with a lightened tone of voice, his eyes flickering precariously. A malevolent, jagged smile curls the edges of his mouth, almost daring Brigade. ”You should be a little nicer if you want what I have,” it doesn’t need to be reiterated again. Healers are tucked into the bosom of Loess, standing idle and waiting to be utilized for those ill with the plague. ”I think I would like to even hear the magic word.” He is toying with Brigade, prodding him with thorned words to warrant a reaction. Whether he succumbs is yet to be seen.
What is made apparent, despite the exchanged banter, is the seriousness and dedication that Brigade has to the wolf. He is steadfast in his demands, his expression steely even when aggravation simmers underneath. Honorable, Castile muses.
He knows what he wants the moment it’s offered, but still Castile glances away thoughtfully. Underneath his metallic forelock, his eyes narrow. His lips purse and his body deeply hums, eating away the seconds to keep the boy on edge. Only when it seems the offer will go unanswered does he turn his head back to the wine-red male. ”I accept.” The words abruptly break the silence. ”You will belong to Loess, as a soldier. You will follow whatever order I give you.” It sounds simple, maybe even sounds like common sense to many. Alas, Castile ensures not having someone among their ranks that will only take up space and air.
A resigning step aside opens Loess to Brigade, creating a clear path to the rocky hills and scattered cacti. ”I expect the healer to return promptly, and I will let you know how long your sentence will be,” no one will escape his grasp, not prematurely at least.
And with a smug grin, he adds, ”Welcome home, Brigade,” knowing that it isn’t what he truly wants.
What is made apparent, despite the exchanged banter, is the seriousness and dedication that Brigade has to the wolf. He is steadfast in his demands, his expression steely even when aggravation simmers underneath. Honorable, Castile muses.
He knows what he wants the moment it’s offered, but still Castile glances away thoughtfully. Underneath his metallic forelock, his eyes narrow. His lips purse and his body deeply hums, eating away the seconds to keep the boy on edge. Only when it seems the offer will go unanswered does he turn his head back to the wine-red male. ”I accept.” The words abruptly break the silence. ”You will belong to Loess, as a soldier. You will follow whatever order I give you.” It sounds simple, maybe even sounds like common sense to many. Alas, Castile ensures not having someone among their ranks that will only take up space and air.
A resigning step aside opens Loess to Brigade, creating a clear path to the rocky hills and scattered cacti. ”I expect the healer to return promptly, and I will let you know how long your sentence will be,” no one will escape his grasp, not prematurely at least.
And with a smug grin, he adds, ”Welcome home, Brigade,” knowing that it isn’t what he truly wants.
castile
@[brigade]