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
Trust. The word is bitter on his tongue because Castile has only ever been capable of relying on his family. Outsiders have betrayed him, scoffed him, opposed him. And yet Litotes requested that of him. In the moment, Castile’s blood boiled with uncertainty as his scrutiny fell harshly across the stallion’s face. Since then, however, he has toyed with the idea. Certainly, it can play into his favor. If not, he at least still holds the crown on his head to strip away and take back his hospitality and graciousness. It would be an easy fix, he muses, as his eyes idly sweep across Loess until finding Litotes.
A habitual rumble vibrates through him as he meticulously steps down from the short, rocky outcropping. A serpent hisses in response, coiling itself beneath the offered shade. Castile responds with a dismissive growl before turning and moving purposefully away.
”Litotes,” funny how a prisoner has found comfort and a place among an enemy. He wasn’t truly meant for Hyalilne – that much is obvious. Fate steered him into the right direction, right into the longing embrace of Loess. Is this a place of misfits? Castile can certainly relate as he fleetingly reflects on his life and how aimless it had been except when he was here. Funny how life seems to already have a path in mind for its small chess pieces. He is grateful, of course, for this opportunity and for the ability to forge something great. With the strongest at his side, anything and everything will be possible.
Castile reflects nothing of his reptilian attributes. Everything is suppressed, even his fiery temper as his gaze drinks in the sight of the shifter. ”You want me to trust you, so I will. You can lead my battalion – the Talons – as, let’s say, my Marauder.” It’s likely unexpected, to go from prisoner to a highly-ranked soldier, but Castile can be gracious and kind to those deserving. ”Earn my full trust working and meeting the soldiers. Maybe after that – after you prove your good intentions toward me – I will figure out something greater for you.” Steps, he thinks, baby steps to properly earn his merit.
A habitual rumble vibrates through him as he meticulously steps down from the short, rocky outcropping. A serpent hisses in response, coiling itself beneath the offered shade. Castile responds with a dismissive growl before turning and moving purposefully away.
”Litotes,” funny how a prisoner has found comfort and a place among an enemy. He wasn’t truly meant for Hyalilne – that much is obvious. Fate steered him into the right direction, right into the longing embrace of Loess. Is this a place of misfits? Castile can certainly relate as he fleetingly reflects on his life and how aimless it had been except when he was here. Funny how life seems to already have a path in mind for its small chess pieces. He is grateful, of course, for this opportunity and for the ability to forge something great. With the strongest at his side, anything and everything will be possible.
Castile reflects nothing of his reptilian attributes. Everything is suppressed, even his fiery temper as his gaze drinks in the sight of the shifter. ”You want me to trust you, so I will. You can lead my battalion – the Talons – as, let’s say, my Marauder.” It’s likely unexpected, to go from prisoner to a highly-ranked soldier, but Castile can be gracious and kind to those deserving. ”Earn my full trust working and meeting the soldiers. Maybe after that – after you prove your good intentions toward me – I will figure out something greater for you.” Steps, he thinks, baby steps to properly earn his merit.
castile
@[litotes]