11-04-2018, 06:33 PM
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
It’s actually amusing how easily and quickly the entire situation escalates. Banter is tossed among the parties, hissing and insulting and threatening. Castile’s eyes are heavily trained on the primary mare, the ringleader of the circus. How entertaining it would be if they knew they were related, but alas, the ignorance and opposing perspectives drives a greater wedge between them. The languid manner to which she carries herself and the sweetened venom of her voice churns Castile’s stomach. His lip curls distastefully, but he is otherwise silent as their group continues to expand. Like vultures to a carcass, more arrive and slip their snide remarks and opinions into the conversation. The tension is elevating, thickening the cold air among them. Yet, amid all of it, there is Leilan snipping back but with some humor laced in his husky voice.
Castile doesn’t hide the lopsided grin that stretches across his lips. Cool them off, yes, that is something they need.
The agitation is a thorn burrowing into his side. He can hear his own racing heartbeat in his ears and feel it like a lump in his throat. Each breath he draws in deliberately is meant to settle the coiling monster inside him. None of them know what he is. They’ve noticed his slit eyes, but in the foray, they have since reverted, abandoning all indications of the reptilian counterpart he contains.
(Kill)
Among them, however, is an individual that weaves together the horrors of lives untold. It brushes across Castile’s consciousness, and his eyes clench shut beneath his forelock for a few long breaths. His muscles ripple as the underlying creature writhes anxiously, desperately screaming for release, but he battles and controls it – for now.
”What a grand idea,” his mismatched eyes have opened and found Oxytocin, ”destroy the land so no one can have it. Real genius,” a low, gravely chuckle rumbles from his throat, his head slowly shaking back and forth. It doesn’t end there of course. He glances to the porcelain doll, but rather than hiss or growl or even flash his own canines in response, Castile shrugs. ”Says the one who has also fled to a refuge. I guess we are all weaklings for having abandoned the mainland then.” But he takes pause here, refusing to feed more into the endless banter. Instead, he shifts idly to one side, yawning and exhaling into the frigid air.
”No one is backing down,” he looks across the faces of the Nerinians, then those in opposition, ”So, we can either fight or cohabitate. I’m sure the ice would look great with a little splash of red.”
Castile doesn’t hide the lopsided grin that stretches across his lips. Cool them off, yes, that is something they need.
The agitation is a thorn burrowing into his side. He can hear his own racing heartbeat in his ears and feel it like a lump in his throat. Each breath he draws in deliberately is meant to settle the coiling monster inside him. None of them know what he is. They’ve noticed his slit eyes, but in the foray, they have since reverted, abandoning all indications of the reptilian counterpart he contains.
(Kill)
Among them, however, is an individual that weaves together the horrors of lives untold. It brushes across Castile’s consciousness, and his eyes clench shut beneath his forelock for a few long breaths. His muscles ripple as the underlying creature writhes anxiously, desperately screaming for release, but he battles and controls it – for now.
”What a grand idea,” his mismatched eyes have opened and found Oxytocin, ”destroy the land so no one can have it. Real genius,” a low, gravely chuckle rumbles from his throat, his head slowly shaking back and forth. It doesn’t end there of course. He glances to the porcelain doll, but rather than hiss or growl or even flash his own canines in response, Castile shrugs. ”Says the one who has also fled to a refuge. I guess we are all weaklings for having abandoned the mainland then.” But he takes pause here, refusing to feed more into the endless banter. Instead, he shifts idly to one side, yawning and exhaling into the frigid air.
”No one is backing down,” he looks across the faces of the Nerinians, then those in opposition, ”So, we can either fight or cohabitate. I’m sure the ice would look great with a little splash of red.”
castile