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anyone; - Castile - 01-24-2018
Nayl and Lior raised a coward.
As a boy, he looked up to father and wanted to mirror the sheer image of power, the herculean aura, that embodied the onyx stallion. It was a dream that edged toward fruition until he lost control of himself. Dragonborn, he remembers Lior muttering with a pleased smile smeared across his face. The word burned itself into Castile, a daily reminder of what he could be – what he is.
The others mastered their flight and their shifting so effortlessly. They embraced their abilities and soared to great heights, leaving the boy struggling on the ground near the river. It wasn’t until Castile was at the cusp of adulthood that the monster roiling in his gut surfaced. It went unnoticed at first when he fled to Sylva during the fires of Hyaline. Adrenaline blinded him to the changes of his body and he was never able to truly mimic it again. Parts of his body, sure, but never in whole.
Not until Karaugh.
She breathed life into the monster.
And Krigare, his opponent on the plains.
No, no, don’t think of them.
Their memories cause a deep stir in his gut, the sense of dread that consumed him before his body ripped and cracked to berth something far greater and unimaginable. As a distraction, he forces his mind to grope for Isobell and Solace – the only two that brought serenity in his dark times – until his entire body settles once more. He dares not to even think of the blood that dribbled on his tongue before his vision bled crimson and his memory skipped. Castile knows not of the complete damage of what he has done – if any – but he knows of the creature that shares his mind and soul. It frightened him into seclusion, but he is here again, suppressing the internal flame. The blood has since been rinsed and flaked away, leaving his body cleansed of his past sins.
As a boy, he looked up to father and wanted to mirror the sheer image of power, the herculean aura, that embodied the onyx stallion. It was a dream that edged toward fruition until he lost control of himself. Dragonborn, he remembers Lior muttering with a pleased smile smeared across his face. The word burned itself into Castile, a daily reminder of what he could be – what he is.
The others mastered their flight and their shifting so effortlessly. They embraced their abilities and soared to great heights, leaving the boy struggling on the ground near the river. It wasn’t until Castile was at the cusp of adulthood that the monster roiling in his gut surfaced. It went unnoticed at first when he fled to Sylva during the fires of Hyaline. Adrenaline blinded him to the changes of his body and he was never able to truly mimic it again. Parts of his body, sure, but never in whole.
Not until Karaugh.
She breathed life into the monster.
And Krigare, his opponent on the plains.
No, no, don’t think of them.
Their memories cause a deep stir in his gut, the sense of dread that consumed him before his body ripped and cracked to berth something far greater and unimaginable. As a distraction, he forces his mind to grope for Isobell and Solace – the only two that brought serenity in his dark times – until his entire body settles once more. He dares not to even think of the blood that dribbled on his tongue before his vision bled crimson and his memory skipped. Castile knows not of the complete damage of what he has done – if any – but he knows of the creature that shares his mind and soul. It frightened him into seclusion, but he is here again, suppressing the internal flame. The blood has since been rinsed and flaked away, leaving his body cleansed of his past sins.
RE: anyone; - Nyxa - 01-24-2018
Nyxa
-I'm sailing right behind, like a bridge over troubled water-
@[Castile] I couldn't help myself.
RE: anyone; - Castile - 01-24-2018
Her voice is a bright beacon in the dark solemnity of his thoughts.
It comes as a surprise to him, to hear something so delicate amid the roar of his mind. It draws him out of the void to look at her. His mismatched eyes find her easily enough, his ears swiveling to immediately. ”Lost?” A fleeting moment had him believe that he was, too. It’s the reason he hesitates while pivoting to look at her more closely. She isn’t what he imagined; her elegance amounts to something so much greater. Truthfully, it catches him off guard.
His intrigue traces along her slender torso like lover’s fingers, paying close attention to her porcelain skin and her viridian locks. The scales match the color of one of his eyes, an alluring silver that draws him a step forward. What stops him, however, is the dazzling shade of purple that stares back at him when they level on one another. ”I, uh,” her piercing stare silences him for a heartbeat while he struggles to grab for words. ”Where are you trying to go?” It really isn’t his problem, just as she said, but his gut doesn’t allow him to walk away and leave her in the meadow to disappear from memory.
When she doesn’t inch closer, Castile doesn’t either. Rooted to the ground he can’t help to contemplate that would bring her closer and why their paths are crossing now. Little does he know that their struggles are so very similar. It could very well be fate, but he doesn’t let his thoughts stray that far. She is a stranger in the meadow, and hopefully a safer one than Karaugh. Drawing in a breath, he finally grasps his composure. ”I’m Castile.”
It comes as a surprise to him, to hear something so delicate amid the roar of his mind. It draws him out of the void to look at her. His mismatched eyes find her easily enough, his ears swiveling to immediately. ”Lost?” A fleeting moment had him believe that he was, too. It’s the reason he hesitates while pivoting to look at her more closely. She isn’t what he imagined; her elegance amounts to something so much greater. Truthfully, it catches him off guard.
His intrigue traces along her slender torso like lover’s fingers, paying close attention to her porcelain skin and her viridian locks. The scales match the color of one of his eyes, an alluring silver that draws him a step forward. What stops him, however, is the dazzling shade of purple that stares back at him when they level on one another. ”I, uh,” her piercing stare silences him for a heartbeat while he struggles to grab for words. ”Where are you trying to go?” It really isn’t his problem, just as she said, but his gut doesn’t allow him to walk away and leave her in the meadow to disappear from memory.
When she doesn’t inch closer, Castile doesn’t either. Rooted to the ground he can’t help to contemplate that would bring her closer and why their paths are crossing now. Little does he know that their struggles are so very similar. It could very well be fate, but he doesn’t let his thoughts stray that far. She is a stranger in the meadow, and hopefully a safer one than Karaugh. Drawing in a breath, he finally grasps his composure. ”I’m Castile.”
RE: anyone; - Nyxa - 01-25-2018
Nyxa
-I'm sailing right behind, like a bridge over troubled water-
RE: anyone; - Castile - 01-26-2018
Castile, she repeats with a tongue lined in silk and honey. He wants her to say it again, like she is a foreigner, like his name is an orgasm that she gasps and struggles to express. It holds his attention, her voice, and he cannot rip his eyes away from the softened edges of her face. A low hum rattles through him, a lopsided and boyish grin tipping the corner of his mouth. ”So fancy,” he humorously replies, blinking languidly as to not pierce her with his mismatched, predatory gaze. It isn’t an adjective he would use for his name; his mind considers it as plain as Nerine’s sandy shore. If there is a meaning behind it, he doesn’t know. Perhaps, mother had her subliminal reasons for the naming of her children.
What distance painfully lies between them stretches but retracts again like magnets failing to escape each other. He notices how her lavender eyes glide along his body and face, taking him in and memorizing every grizzly detail. Unlike mother, Castile is not finer boned; he is robust with chiseled sinew woven around his bones – an image that nearly mirrors his father. The quiet scrutiny doesn’t faze him. Content, he returns the gesture with periodic glances to her sleek torso, intrigued by the scales and contrasting colors. Beautiful is the word that comes to mind, but never escapes past his lips. It echoes in his mind, bouncing from wall-to-wall, but his mouth never betrays him. Her questioning uncertainty saves him from his embarrassment, forcing his mind to spiral in another direction and away from the physical allure she possesses. The predicament nearly rattles him in how familiar it sounds. He nods, a single brow lifting underneath his forelock. ”Sometimes, it’s good to run away from reality for a bit,” it’s what he did when he feared his poor control of shifting, when he tasted blood for the first time and couldn’t handle the unfamiliar entity that growled inside him.
But Nyxa doesn’t remind him of a monster; she is fairer, enticing, beautiful.” What, he wonders, could she possibly be running from?
He is almost too eager to accept how she inches closer, suppressing her initial hesitation. An urge to close the distance clouds his every thought and almost takes over control of his legs. Only a couple more steps, says a whispering voice in his thoughts, but he holds steadfast with eyes that burn with curiosity and fascination. ”I wish I knew,” he admits, almost in embarrassment, ”but aimless wandering is certainly more enjoyable with company.”
Join me, he doesn’t say.
Let me hold you, his eyes plead.
What distance painfully lies between them stretches but retracts again like magnets failing to escape each other. He notices how her lavender eyes glide along his body and face, taking him in and memorizing every grizzly detail. Unlike mother, Castile is not finer boned; he is robust with chiseled sinew woven around his bones – an image that nearly mirrors his father. The quiet scrutiny doesn’t faze him. Content, he returns the gesture with periodic glances to her sleek torso, intrigued by the scales and contrasting colors. Beautiful is the word that comes to mind, but never escapes past his lips. It echoes in his mind, bouncing from wall-to-wall, but his mouth never betrays him. Her questioning uncertainty saves him from his embarrassment, forcing his mind to spiral in another direction and away from the physical allure she possesses. The predicament nearly rattles him in how familiar it sounds. He nods, a single brow lifting underneath his forelock. ”Sometimes, it’s good to run away from reality for a bit,” it’s what he did when he feared his poor control of shifting, when he tasted blood for the first time and couldn’t handle the unfamiliar entity that growled inside him.
But Nyxa doesn’t remind him of a monster; she is fairer, enticing, beautiful.” What, he wonders, could she possibly be running from?
He is almost too eager to accept how she inches closer, suppressing her initial hesitation. An urge to close the distance clouds his every thought and almost takes over control of his legs. Only a couple more steps, says a whispering voice in his thoughts, but he holds steadfast with eyes that burn with curiosity and fascination. ”I wish I knew,” he admits, almost in embarrassment, ”but aimless wandering is certainly more enjoyable with company.”
Join me, he doesn’t say.
Let me hold you, his eyes plead.
RE: anyone; - Nyxa - 01-29-2018
Nyxa
-I'm sailing right behind, like a bridge over troubled water-
RE: anyone; - Castile - 02-27-2018
He can’t breathe without drinking her in, can’t stray his thoughts when he looks at her now. There’s an easiness to her, an allure, which he is ensnared in. Their conversation runs like water. She sees him for what he is now, not the monster that stirs within.
It doesn’t have to be aimless, she says, and he supposes that can be true. Once, he wandered to a dark place – to solitude – where he refused himself physical contact. Castile knew where he wanted – needed – to be, but he had to wander to find his prison.
And to find her.
The sunlight dapples along his coat as clouds pass overhead. Even as a cool breeze threads through the space between them, Castile remains warmed by an inner flame. He doesn’t shudder or squirm, his body statuesque in Nyxa’s presence. The feathers of his wings lift with the gale, but in whole they remain folded neatly along his sides, further insulation as the seasons play their yearly tricks.
Nyxa proposes an adventure to the Mountain, and it’s an offer that Castile cannot bring himself to refuse. His head turns in the direction of the ominous peak as it pierces low-lying clouds. A lopsided grin gives him a look of boyish excitement when he levels his attention on the seagirl, fascinated with her inclination for traveling and humor. ”Oh, my lady, it would truly be a pleasure,” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes him, brightening the shadows of his face. His right wing expands then, reaching briefly toward the sky before drifting slowly down to hover just above Nyxa’s back, still too – admittedly – to touch her. ”Nay, it would be an honor to escort you.” Her company creates something new in his identity – a tenderness to his soul – that he desperately latches onto while he can.
”One can never go wrong with a good adventure.”
It doesn’t have to be aimless, she says, and he supposes that can be true. Once, he wandered to a dark place – to solitude – where he refused himself physical contact. Castile knew where he wanted – needed – to be, but he had to wander to find his prison.
And to find her.
The sunlight dapples along his coat as clouds pass overhead. Even as a cool breeze threads through the space between them, Castile remains warmed by an inner flame. He doesn’t shudder or squirm, his body statuesque in Nyxa’s presence. The feathers of his wings lift with the gale, but in whole they remain folded neatly along his sides, further insulation as the seasons play their yearly tricks.
Nyxa proposes an adventure to the Mountain, and it’s an offer that Castile cannot bring himself to refuse. His head turns in the direction of the ominous peak as it pierces low-lying clouds. A lopsided grin gives him a look of boyish excitement when he levels his attention on the seagirl, fascinated with her inclination for traveling and humor. ”Oh, my lady, it would truly be a pleasure,” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes him, brightening the shadows of his face. His right wing expands then, reaching briefly toward the sky before drifting slowly down to hover just above Nyxa’s back, still too – admittedly – to touch her. ”Nay, it would be an honor to escort you.” Her company creates something new in his identity – a tenderness to his soul – that he desperately latches onto while he can.
”One can never go wrong with a good adventure.”
@[Nyxa]
I'm SO sorry for the wait. I KNEW I forgot someone. I suck.