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Sochi; - Castile - 10-11-2019 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
Winded and irritated, Castile returns to the welcoming embrace of Loess. Its dry gales kiss his sweat-lathered skin and nuzzle against his exhausted muscles. The trek to the Mountain was strenuous, but to return with his body and energy drained, added to the calamity. A heavy sigh escapes him as the world crushes down on him. Everything seems smaller, limited. A longing glance peers up at the open sky as clouds tumble and roll. A growl wants to rise in defiance, but instead it is a flat groan fumbles awkwardly past his lips. ”Fuck,” he murmurs to himself as he draws to an abrupt halt. His hooves root themselves. A rigidity runs through his entirety. Only his mind races to consider everything draconic, to imagine his body in its other form, to recall the taste of fire on his tongue. But it does nothing. Scales do not rise beyond the soft flesh. The acrid taste of smoke does not coat his throat. There is nothing. He feels nothing. Anger surfaces in a bright blast of colors surging across his skin. Noisome shades of yellows, blues, reds, and greens shimmer and ripple in relentless waves. But then it stops. His body darkens to an ominous black all over when he finally opens his metallic, mismatched eyes and pursues the familiarity of Sochi’s scent. He does not see her from afar as he once did, and his senses have dulled, but still he locates her and presses his face into the warmth of her neck. ”I am nothing now. I am incomplete,” his voice is a trembling murmur of suppressed anger. Another blast of vivid colors washes across him in frustration, but still no wings or claws surface. ”The faeries took it… took half of my soul away…” It took years to understand what he was, to accept it and thrive with it. Now that he has nearly mastered his shifting and emotions, the faeries humor themselves by stripping him of what he has possessed since emerging from his mother’s womb. He has always known and realized his mistakes, his volatile personality, and yet they cruelly remind him of it as though he had not suffered enough. With a short grind of his jaws, he adds, ”It is my punishment for being greedy… for wanting more to protect Loess, you, and our children. I feel like something is happening, but I do not know what…” he finally – reluctantly – pulls away from the reassurance of her skin to meet her eyes, diving into the silver pools where he finds solace. castile @[sochi] RE: Sochi; - sochi - 10-13-2019 sochi Life has settled into something still and quiet. well, I can try to get you closer but I know you’d break your neck just to see the stars RE: Sochi; - Castile - 10-16-2019 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
She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t recoil from the brash way he buries his face into her neck. She quietly listens while lipping the arch of his neck, absorbing and understanding the words that fall from his mouth like an undammed reservoir. Even as anger claws at the edges of his voice, Sochi is steadfast and placid in her manner, a balm to his open wounds. The confession rolls from him, and only when she fathoms the severity does she suddenly withdraw and stare at him with her flashing, silver eyes. Castile meets them, even if his expression is lined with shame. ”They took it because I was greedy,” and he understands that he was, even as his barbed request hung in the air, still fresh with the steam of his breath. ”… Am greedy…” the mild correction is a low grumble as his gaze falls to the rocky ground beneath them. His thoughts reel as he recalls every memory he has and realizes how greedy he has always been, even if not for cruel purposes. Greedy for love and a family, for power and recognition. A deep breath sighs from his lungs, its taste clear and not riddled with smoke or fire. The voice that creeps through his mind has been silenced, stripped away with the dragon he was born to be. Castile’s jaws clench together in frustration and disappointment as, still, the flames do not rise along the soft edges of his throat. He looks at Sochi then, searching her eyes as though she has all the answers he needs. His heart reaches for her, wanting to hold her and never let go. ”We fell in love as hunters, and now I’m suddenly the prey,” his lip curls in distaste as a gale ruffles his metallic locks across his furrowed brows. ”How can I protect Loess when all I can do is change my damn color?” His voice lightens in conclusion, wanting to laugh at his predicament but grounded too heavily by his frustration. But when Castile looks up again to adore the iridescent blaze of his love and the soft ferocity of her eyes, still he somehow melts. ”I would say to also protect you and the children, but you’ve never needed my help with that,” he leans forward and caresses the corner of her mouth, kissing it gently. ”I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you how much I love you,” he trails his lips to her poll, placing another kiss. ”You and our family is all I need, and yet… I feel so incomplete without…” he trails off, knowing that Sochi already realizes what he is implying. castile @[sochi] RE: Sochi; - sochi - 11-05-2019 sochi She corrects him almost without thinking, shaking her head. “Not greedy—just a predator,” her eyes are sharp on his face, studying the handsome, strong lines of it. “There is nothing greedy in wanting what is due to you. In wanting the world that has been laid out before you. In relishing in your strength.” She does not understand the faeries—has never understood these entities that stand so haughtily over the rest of them, that judge and take more than they give—and she certainly does not understand them now. well, I can try to get you closer but I know you’d break your neck just to see the stars @[Castile] RE: Sochi; - Castile - 11-11-2019 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
Her immediate correction eases his worry fleetingly, but in its place, another arises. Sochi reassures him that it’s his predatory nature, but at what blurred line does he cross into new territory? At what point is he a selfish monster? With the confirmation of the faerie’s rejection and the rumors that litter the world like fallen autumn leaves, Castile considers retrogressing. It would be easier to fall victim to his instincts again, to rip the tether and become exactly as they see him. Even in his kindness, in his charitable personality, they see only what lies beneath the surface and the havoc he can berth. But then, he looks at Sochi, and the fire that yearns so desperately to roar from his mouth, settles into a weak kindle. It wouldn’t behoove her, or even their children, if he loses the grip that he has struggled so much to hold. Everything that he has strived to control so they could live harmoniously would slip through his fingers. He would become primal again, primitive, as his thoughts become enveloped by predatory necessities. He thinks of Solace, then of Sabra. For a heart wrenching moment, his thoughts reminisce of their scars. They stood in his path when the creature within him unraveled and broke its chains. A shuddering breath races through him, refusing to imagine Sochi in that same predicament, with blood lacing down her neck. Without having realized, Castile’s eyes had fallen. He slowly blinks, retracting from the tar pit of his musings. Needing to see her, his gaze rises to meet hers and he accompanies it with a lopsided, boyish grin. ”I suppose you’re right,” he murmurs quietly, clutching desperately to the concept that he will never – can never – be prey. It’s mentality, he tries to tell himself, but he cannot resume his carnivorous tendencies in this body and not with these teeth. Pity stabs into him, ripping him open. He drinks in another deliberate breath and forces his body to straighten underneath the kisses that she trails along his jaw. It gives him life and gives him courage despite how sullen and relentless his contrasting thoughts may be. A low hum courses through him, melting into her touch before resting his chin on the arch of her neck. ”How did I get so lucky to find you?” Sochi provides him strength when his own falters, and she breathes hope into his tormented struggles. Hearing the sharpness of her voice – though it is still endearing in their own way – he smiles more broadly now as hope bursts through the walls of his heart. ”I won’t apologize,” he whispers back, ”but I will thank you for putting up with me. I don’t know how you do it.” castile @[sochi] RE: Sochi; - sochi - 11-16-2019 sochi Sochi has developed her own moral compass over the years. Helping bring about the plague, and then being the first to rip into Rhonen’s throat, and then being there to help end it—it all developed the young woman that she is into the steely one that she has become. She does not waver in her convictions, no matter the fact that they may not match up with the rest of the world. She does not apologize for the way that she sees the world and the way that she acts in kind; her decisions hers and hers alone. well, I can try to get you closer but I know you’d break your neck just to see the stars |