10-17-2018, 03:55 PM
Castile manages a light-hearted chuckle as his memory stares into the reflection of his childhood. He had been the prince, a sliver of information that he allows to die on his tongue. It wasn’t a role to boast in this kingdom, and it didn’t provide him any benefits in life. He was a Regent in Loess once, but that was brief and more or less undeserved. The responsibility was placed on his shoulders when his friend left the kingdom; bearing the heavy weight was foreign and never settled well.
He can’t help but wonder, however, if the ranks are similar to what they had once been. Leilan mocks as though men still hold little power, but with an agreeable nod, Castile confirms that nonetheless, Nerine is home.
With a mild shift of curiosity, Castile’s mismatched eyes search for an answer that doesn’t readily come. Having to fish for it, he says, ”No. I didn’t ask,” and with a pause while he racks his brain he comes up with, ”Who is Klaudius?” The name has no meaning, no hold on Castile. It’s a tangle of letters lost in the foray of Beqanna’s lengthy tale. There’s no way he could remember everyone and everything. If it isn’t his family or someone in his home, the level of importance lessens.
An idle breath rises to Castile’s lips and while he has grown accustomed to the stink of black smoke, he can’t help to choke it down this time. As of yet, only Breckin has seen him for what he truly is. In his mind, the fewer the better. An awkward inhalation is masked with a look of surprise upon hearing Leilan’s admission, then a heavy swallow before lightening the tone of their conversation with a crooked grin. ”I see, I see,” his wings shuffle, ”a special invitation.” A brow lifts underneath his forelock and his eyes brighten humorously.
He can’t help but wonder, however, if the ranks are similar to what they had once been. Leilan mocks as though men still hold little power, but with an agreeable nod, Castile confirms that nonetheless, Nerine is home.
With a mild shift of curiosity, Castile’s mismatched eyes search for an answer that doesn’t readily come. Having to fish for it, he says, ”No. I didn’t ask,” and with a pause while he racks his brain he comes up with, ”Who is Klaudius?” The name has no meaning, no hold on Castile. It’s a tangle of letters lost in the foray of Beqanna’s lengthy tale. There’s no way he could remember everyone and everything. If it isn’t his family or someone in his home, the level of importance lessens.
An idle breath rises to Castile’s lips and while he has grown accustomed to the stink of black smoke, he can’t help to choke it down this time. As of yet, only Breckin has seen him for what he truly is. In his mind, the fewer the better. An awkward inhalation is masked with a look of surprise upon hearing Leilan’s admission, then a heavy swallow before lightening the tone of their conversation with a crooked grin. ”I see, I see,” his wings shuffle, ”a special invitation.” A brow lifts underneath his forelock and his eyes brighten humorously.
@[Leilan]