03-20-2019, 08:58 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
Ilma mirrors him so well. They are stoic reflections of one another as their eyes roll curiously over one another. It has been so long – perhaps too long – since they’ve last spoken, but fate built a wall between them. Life’s adventures pulled them apart. While there have been, likely, minimal changes in Ilma, a great deal has clouded Castile’s past couple years. His fiery eyes look at her with rejuvenation and with an altered prowess.
Her answer is quick. It crashes over him as a tidal wave, crushing his hopes of a neutral and friendly conversation. Suddenly, the air seems electrified as his memories trace back to Sabra. It isn’t even the delivery of the lavender child that spurs to mind, but of the thunderous reunion in the Resort when it all came to a crumbling end. Electricity darted painfully through his veins when their bodies connected. It should’ve weakened him or helped him fall into her embrace. Sometimes, he wonders if that is what she hopes. It backfired, however, and spawned an irreversible rage that drew their relationship to a screeching halt.
Castile’s skin twitches as though flies are surrounding him while his gaze distantly stares toward the horizon, remembering.
”Go on then,” he finally snips, his voice edged and terse, ”You begin.” It could still be diplomatic, but deep in his gut he realizes Ilma wants more from him. She yearns to understand his actions, to see where he stands with everyone and everything. Slowly, Castile turns his head away from the mountainous horizon to look at her expectantly, waiting for what looms.
Her answer is quick. It crashes over him as a tidal wave, crushing his hopes of a neutral and friendly conversation. Suddenly, the air seems electrified as his memories trace back to Sabra. It isn’t even the delivery of the lavender child that spurs to mind, but of the thunderous reunion in the Resort when it all came to a crumbling end. Electricity darted painfully through his veins when their bodies connected. It should’ve weakened him or helped him fall into her embrace. Sometimes, he wonders if that is what she hopes. It backfired, however, and spawned an irreversible rage that drew their relationship to a screeching halt.
Castile’s skin twitches as though flies are surrounding him while his gaze distantly stares toward the horizon, remembering.
”Go on then,” he finally snips, his voice edged and terse, ”You begin.” It could still be diplomatic, but deep in his gut he realizes Ilma wants more from him. She yearns to understand his actions, to see where he stands with everyone and everything. Slowly, Castile turns his head away from the mountainous horizon to look at her expectantly, waiting for what looms.
castile
@[Ilma]