"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She flies from Island Resort. Her heart has not mended watching him with her and so she has left, to perhaps find a new home somewhere else. She has not forgotten the mare, Dizzy, would not, but for now she needed to leave. She needed to find someplace to heal her heart and take it back from him, even if he never knew he had it in the first place. So she flies until the ground below her looks interesting and then her wings tilt to take her down. She never has thought much of the borders and the welcoming committee and so when she lands it’s quite near the middle of the land.
There’s a small lake she quenches her thirst from, almost contemplates taking a quick swim to wipe the sweat from her body, but she doesn’t. This place is new and it would be too trusting to wade into a vulnerable position in a place she didn’t know.
There is also a scent she knows but cannot yet place on the air. It lingers, tantalizing in its familiarity. She takes a moment to look around, taking in all the scents, the looks. Noting the differences from Island Resort and Ischia, and also noting some similarities. She can see the ocean in the distance, wonders if it is warmer than the waters surrounding her previous two homes. She wanders, waiting for the interaction her arrival will surely bring as she ponders over the familiar scent that she still can’t place, that lingers here and there.
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
Few things of importance escape Castile’s vigilant notice. With his eyes hungrily roving across the reaches of Loess, with pupils slit like a dragon’s, he watches. His ears drunkenly gulp the sounds of voices and birds. Scent reaches him, carried on a summer gale, and scratches against the lining of his nostrils. Most have been familiarized and are drenched in Loess’ potency; however, one rises above the others and stirs his gut. Fire immediately boils through his veins and revives Castile from a restful watch.
It’s unmistakable – the palm trees, the sand, the tropics – and unforgettable. When he initially breathes her in, she is heavily cloaked in the Island Resort. She is part of a memory that he hasn’t entirely let go. Anger and frustration has festered within him despite the crown laid on his head.
He won’t forget. He will never forget.
Draconic wings rip through skin, appearing at his whim to immediately take flight. Someone originating from the Island demands his immediate attention. He doesn’t stall, doesn’t bide his time. Gusts of wind tousle his metallic locks as he pursues the scent, his predatory instincts electrifying through his body until the sight of her reaches him. It isn’t Wallace, that much he knows. Nor is she one of the incestual purple clansmen.
No, she is different, yet still plucked from a sour memory.
His descent is swift and silent until his hooves touch down. While he considers retracting his wings, a reconsidering glance observes her own. ”What is someone from the Resort doing in these parts?” His voice crawls forward, as precarious as his nature as his eyes become lit by an inner flame. She wasn’t in support of him – he would remember – and so he assumes her an enemy, a questionable presence in Loess. ”Why shouldn’t I hurt you for trespassing?” He edges closer, a foreboding entity as his stare pierces into her, his muscles quivering in anticipation.
Quiet absolutely. She only hears him as he descents, the shuffling of noise in an otherwise rather quiet environment. He is familiar, but it takes her a moment to place him. While he would not forget that day, she only remembering standing behind Kerberos, behind Kali. She remembered him and the others, but it had faded as unimportant events in her life seem to. Or rather, not unimportant because it was important, more like events that did not effect her still now. Had Castile taken over she still would be lingering amongst the shadows. Still never a part of anything.
Her own deepest regret.
She sighs softly. She suppose she should be nervous. She supposes she should feel more than just idle curiosity. “Ah, I was wondering why the scent was familiar.” She knew him, his face, his voice. He had used it on them all so long ago in the Resort. Her wings tuck down against her sides, perhaps a foolhardy move but one she was willing to take to prove she meant no harm.
“I flew until the ground looked interesting Castile.” His name coming to her, as she rolled her shoulders in a soft shrug. “I did not know that you lived here now.” In fact, she knew much of nothing. “Are you leader here now instead?” Curiosity drove her, and there was nothing malicious, nothing hidden in her agenda. She was as transparent as ever. While she did not wish for a fight, she wouldn’t back down against him if he attacked her.
She probably wouldn’t even be upset, because she would understand. So as he creeps closer she adjusts, turning her face towards his so if he were to lunge he would have only the narrower option of her face and chest to attack instead of her whole side. “Because I can leave, if you wish me too. But I swear I did not know you were here now, else I might have kept flying.” Another small shrug.
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
Castile understands the mystique of Loess, the curiosity that spurs outsiders to their border. There is something here, a greater purpose than the monotony of peace. Beqanna is quiet, eerily so, with so many pacifists holding the thrones. Although not a warmonger, Castile craves excitement and discord. His mind continues to frequently stray toward the Resort, imagining it burn and shrivel to dust beneath him. The want for havoc lingers, but he patiently bides his time and establishes himself here. Soon, however, he will need to move before the ones who opposed him filter out and disappear.
While the thought simmers beneath the surface, Castile has recently suppressed it. A dismissing nod pushes it to the back of his mind until this woman’s convenient arrival. Like a tidal wave, everything suddenly returns – the anger, the frustration, the surprise.
It takes everything in his power not to sneer at her, or to snarl and chase her away from the home has established for himself. Is that not what they did to him? He doubted his memory, thought perhaps she wasn’t present, but she contradicts his assumptions and pieces together his familiarity. ”So, you were one of them – part of that incestual clan,” this time, Castile cannot disguise the disgust in his voice as he remembers studying each of them with similar features and the same lavender shade. ”Why are you looking for interesting ground elsewhere after standing so tall for the Island?” She asked him a question, but he responds in turn before simply adding, ”Yes.” He doesn’t announce that he is King, that he is the kingdom overseer instead of a mere herd stallion. To boast it would be a glimmer of insecurity.
A king shouldn’t have to tell the world he’s king. They should simply know.
Just like they know he is a dragon.
Instinctively, she turns to face him as Castile edges closer. The space between them melts beneath the heat of his stare as his warm, smoky breath reaches like fingers toward her. ”You still haven’t told me your name,” he drawls when coming to a halt near enough to reach her if he wanted. His eyes gleam with mischief and curiosity. While he takes pleasure in unrest, he is admittedly not a cruel heathen. Slipping his scrutinizing gaze across her, he weighs her replies and considers her carefully. ”Tell me. Would they miss you in the Island if, we say, you never return?” A malicious grin quivers along the edges of his lips, fleetingly, before abandoning his expression to stoicism.
It was no one’s fault after all, but her own, that no one knew her. That she was a shadow, a flower hidden by the trees. The only connection she had ever felt had been to Kerberos, to a guy she had watched become the best dad ever to Kali. To Kali whom she loved as if she were really family. Her crush had finally fizzled, she had realize that she was never going to be anything more than...well not what she wanted. She didn’t really know what she was to Kerberos. A little sister? A friend? She had never been brave or daring enough to ask.
She had never wanted to break that fragile truce between them.
She bristles when he calls them incestual, her eyes narrowing but she doesn’t give into the urge to want to snarl back at him. She doesn’t give him more than the physical reaction to give into his satisfaction of riling her up. She snorts, ears having fallen back into the wind-blown tangles of her mane.
“I stood tall for Kali, the one who met you first.” And Kerberos she doesn’t say, trying to let it go, trying to not let it hurt. “Because she is family.” She says simply. “I would not have her hurt in her defense of her home.” The irritation she had felt begins to melt away, at least for now. She purposely didn’t answer his question, perhaps wouldn’t unless he asked again.
His breath is warm, she can feel the last bits of it as he exhales. “You still haven’t asked.” She says, a small smile curling the very corners of her lips. She is wary of him, it can be seen the way that she angles her head just slightly away from his own, giving her more of a view in case he decides to lunge, but she doesn’t move away from him. She doesn’t let him think he scares her. Her eyes gleam with her own mischief, tinted with that edge of wariness about the unknown.
His last question, the brief bit of spite along his lips, makes her smile a bit wider. A small laugh slipping past her lips. “No, I highly doubt it, seeing as how I would return when I wished.” A wry look, an amused quirk of her lips let him know she would only be a captive by choice.
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
To be unheard, to be unknown, is not necessarily a bad thing. As easily as Roma slipped his notice on the Island, so can she among a cluster of others. If she wanted, Roma could be a fly on the wall – a vessel of information.
Castile regards her in this sense, observing her while cursing himself for being oblivious to the watchful pairs of eyes that day when the angel’s blood touched his lips. Among the crowd, she watched the brutality unravel and the resignation pursue. The Island was his, albeit brief, before they overpowered the vote for himself. It would be suitable to watch them burn beneath his fire, scream and realize the mistake they made. The want for destruction – for revenge – is still there, thrumming in his steady heartbeats. Some mornings, Castile awakens wondering if too much time has passed, if the cluster of lavender fools still congest and pollute the sand.
Their time will come, just as it did for their lavender family member, Klaudius.
As angry as he wants to be, Castile cannot penalize her for defending family. His did the same, just as he would for his own kin.
Amusement flashes across his eyes when her rebuttal permeates the warm air between them. He humors her with a lopsided grin and bob of his head. ”I don’t ask for much in my own kingdom,” he demands, he takes, ”So, I suggest telling me your name otherwise you can see your way out.” Truthfully, she has captured his attention and it would be a pity to see her dismissed from Loess. As a guttural rumble resonates through him, Castile inches closer, his chest nearly brushing against her shoulder. ”Or,” he offers as he remembers Starsin’s capabilities to retrieve answers, ”perhaps, we will just keep you here to ourselves.” But she is willing – her smile, her chuckle, her statement, says it all.
04-20-2019, 07:15 AM (This post was last modified: 04-20-2019, 07:17 AM by Roma.)
No, perhaps it wasn’t. But she had been unknown and unheard ever since she had left her family. Ever since Tycho had went off on his own and they had been separated. Her family, her brother had been her anchor. Kerberos and Kali had been a buoy. But now, now she was lost and afloat again with an urge to wander, to meet, to know. She was not sure if she really belonged anywhere.
She tilts her head. “Well, I suppose I could take my leave of Loess then, even if the company had been much more interesting than I thought.” She seems to think it over, her wings stretching out as if she were going to fly. Her golden eyes sliding from him to the land around him, even as her wings tuck themselves back up against her sides. “But I did just get here.”
“Roma.” She says, turning her gaze back to his own, her own small smile curling her lips with a small bob of her head. “Your highness.” A wry slant to her eyes and a tilt to her lips, as she says the last bit. His chest almost brushing her shoulders, his breath warm on her skin. She wants to dive into the easy offering, some weak piece of her wanting that spite, that revenge.
Instead she drags her body back away from his warmth, his touch, his breath. A soft sigh. She would be willing, in the worst way, but she really doesn’t feel like her first should be with some random dude who first tried to overthrow her home, and then she lands coincidentally in his. Although, she tilts her head again, her thoughts keeping her momentarily quiet.
“You try to take a lot of things that aren’t yours.” Her smile is amused as she stops that line of thought. It would really be so easy to fall into his touch, to feel wanted for even that bit brief bit of time. She sighs again. “Tell me about Loess.”
