06-24-2019, 06:30 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
”Not as brave as you,” Reia confides as Sochi’s lips trail delicately across the healing cut below her eye. She only blinks, never winces, as she admiringly drinks in the sight of her mother beneath the broad sunlight. A rare, subdued smile stretches across her lips, absorbing the adoration and compliments with a feral purr. A small plume of smoke coils from her nostrils, harmless and seemingly unintentional by the surprise on her face. As though he has the answer – though she is well-aware of what she is – she glances over her shoulder at Castile just as he closes the space among them to touch Sochi.
A warm smile traces the edges of his lips and softens his war-torn face. It’s easy to fall into her embrace, melt into her touch. She, along with their children, is his weakness. For years, Castile tried to defy the depth of his heart and keep prospects at an arm’s length. He warned them away, scared them away, because he realized how precarious it could be if loved ones fell into the hands of enemies.
Reflecting now, he realizes that is exactly what mother did.
The epiphany elicits a subtle retraction of touch, but it lasts a single heartbeat as he suppresses the subconscious fear.
”I am,” he whispers into the arch of her neck even as his gaze slips across the wounds laced across her back. His gut clenches, wanting to destroy anyone – everyone – for harming his family. Reia is only scratched from the maze since Tiphon dutifully mended her broken wing. Sochi’s chest has been split, the edge of flesh curling and withering as the tissue dies. And Nikolaus? Castile’s eyes flash with recognition. The worry in Sochi’s voice hooks him. Their son. They have a son. But he isn’t here.
Fear approaches the lines of his face, playing with the idea of exposing his weakness. It presses near enough for a corner of his mouth to quiver and for his heart to suddenly flutter before he grasps it and controls it. ”Shall we look for him?” He needs to be the calm, the steady rock, for her and Reia as she peers up with a widened stare. ”Where did he go?” Blinking, she rolls her attention to the hills and cacti around them, calculating where to even begin.
A warm smile traces the edges of his lips and softens his war-torn face. It’s easy to fall into her embrace, melt into her touch. She, along with their children, is his weakness. For years, Castile tried to defy the depth of his heart and keep prospects at an arm’s length. He warned them away, scared them away, because he realized how precarious it could be if loved ones fell into the hands of enemies.
Reflecting now, he realizes that is exactly what mother did.
The epiphany elicits a subtle retraction of touch, but it lasts a single heartbeat as he suppresses the subconscious fear.
”I am,” he whispers into the arch of her neck even as his gaze slips across the wounds laced across her back. His gut clenches, wanting to destroy anyone – everyone – for harming his family. Reia is only scratched from the maze since Tiphon dutifully mended her broken wing. Sochi’s chest has been split, the edge of flesh curling and withering as the tissue dies. And Nikolaus? Castile’s eyes flash with recognition. The worry in Sochi’s voice hooks him. Their son. They have a son. But he isn’t here.
Fear approaches the lines of his face, playing with the idea of exposing his weakness. It presses near enough for a corner of his mouth to quiver and for his heart to suddenly flutter before he grasps it and controls it. ”Shall we look for him?” He needs to be the calm, the steady rock, for her and Reia as she peers up with a widened stare. ”Where did he go?” Blinking, she rolls her attention to the hills and cacti around them, calculating where to even begin.
castile
@[Sochi]