Nimue Isolde, Anyone;

[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

Litotes is no more.

The news would have pained Castile had he last met the lion king on better terms. By how quickly his allegiance changed, however, the mood shifts to pleasure and relief. Additionally, there is lingering curiosity as to whom next reached out to grab Pangea’s empty throne. There have been rumors, but he loathes the stray words picked from the air. Castile rather see for himself what turmoil or success is unraveling in the barren kingdom. The lust for knowledge nips at his heels as he traipses the environmental obstacles until the mountains and valleys  are just outside of his grasp.

But then he turns his head, remembering to have brought company. Such a rare occasion this is, but he attempts a languid role as escort, inviting her to explore a land she’s not yet set her eyes on.

”Just around this bend,” his voice is low and gravelly, much like the tumbling boulders when they lift away from their stagnation. It would have been easier to soar across the jaded peaks to arrive here, to take to the skies with her. Enviously, Castile sneaks a glance toward her wings before looking back ahead as the reach the end of a trail before the kingdom begins. ”Pangea,” he advises once they draw to a halt, edging a step closer to her so that their shoulders tantalizingly brush. They are unified in this moment, strong in their representation although his goals for this trek are minimal. Glancing again at her, he adds as an afterthought, ”You can call, but,” and he turns his attention to the kingdom opened up in front of them, his gaze roaming calmly across its every crevice and turn, ”they already know we’re here.”

castile