"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
02-13-2019, 10:45 AM (This post was last modified: 02-13-2019, 10:46 AM by Castile.)
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
The Hyaline Primarch is what Castile last heard. Loess has royalty among its prisoners, and he can nearly taste the restlessness seeping from Litotes pores. No one wants to be slave – or even a pawn – in political warfare. Yet here he is, Litotes, living as exactly that. Bounced around at the mercy of his superiors and obeying them like a cub. It churns something in Castile’s gut, setting him aflame but also bringing life to his reeling thoughts.
This could play to his advantage, somehow, having the Primarch here (little does he know what has changed since their initial meeting).
He doesn’t try to be silent as he crests another hill and steps around a shrub. There’s no reason to muffle his footsteps in his own home, even as he looms like a storm with eyes intensely trained on Litotes. Wings – feathered as to keep his draconic features subtle – comfortably fold against his sides, unnecessary as he closes the last few feet. ”Litotes,” he recalls easily enough, utilizing the male’s name as a form of casual greeting as his walk draws to a gradual halt. Their eyes lock. Beneath the sweltering summer sun, they face their predicament head on. The prison guard holding the chains of an inmate, grinning smugly as the wind lifts his forelock from his face. ”It seems I was right. Solace asked for your return,” he knew someone would beg for the Primarch’s safety, that their desperation for him would surface and their pride would falter by coming to Loess’ borders. It only conveyed his importance to them (oh, if only he knew what transgressed in the lion’s sleep, how Kagerus dismissed him icily).
Castile would be a fool to let him slip away so easily.
”I declined,” he finally adds after a suspended moment of anticipation, ”You’re too interesting to let go of so soon.” A compliment, spoken flatly from the dragon’s tongue as his eyes sweep quickly across their surroundings then back to Litote’s expression to read and analyze his reaction. ”Nothing wrong with a year-long vacation from home, right?” A laugh rumbles from deep within his chest, a primal and predatory noise lifted by tethers of humor.
boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
Castile’s scent is fresh on the wind. The lion hardly takes notices for it has becomes so normal; instead, he casts a wayward glance to the direction it floats from, secretly hoping the dragon man will pay him a visit.
There is a twinge of excitement at the idea of discussing his dreams with Castile. After a terribly uncalled for dismissal, Litotes is itching to know what his worth truly is to the king. Perhaps he will be released from his prison; perhaps this will make his stay far more interesting. His mind replays the cat that so pointedly called him “a disappointment.” The grin that exposes his teeth can only be described as impish. Whatever crazed thumb the Queens thought they could squash him under turned out to be no matter - and he finds Kagerus terribly naive to think he would not rise to her blatant insult. He wonders how a single steal and a single quip could send one who claims to be so pure-hearted over the edge; afterall, she has no knowledge of the anger he masks.
Litotes does not want to answer to someone so controlling and prideful, anyway.
When Castile utters his name - plucked so easily from a previous encounter - the lion swivels his ears with interest. He rises with a stretch, keeping his glimmering eyes locked on the one that matches. So Solace did ask for his release? That no longer comes as a surprise after the dreamscape from a few nights before, though he does cock a brow. The “I declined” that follows also fails to astonish him - the king did not seem particularly relaxed about his sentence when they last spoke.
Interesting indeed, Castile.
“A vacation, perhaps - though I do not think I can call Hyaline my home any longer.” The grin that slides dastardly up his lips tells all. “Kagerus could not handle a rebuttal to unwarranted insults, so she dismissed me in a dream. I suppose disagreeing even a little bit is unacceptable. Smells of tyranny to me.”
A pause that stretches between them, then -
“Perhaps I am not the bitch you thought I was - though I am relieved to no longer be considered a pawn.”
and if i fall would you know that to do? and if i'm caught up would you stay?
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
Undoubtedly, Castile is surprised. It reads heavily on his face, as there is no sense hiding it. ”My, my my. Quite the plot twist.” He had been hopeful to influence the primarch and steer him, and Hyaline, away from the Sanctuary’s clutches. An upset in the eastern power would send the caretakers spiraling. Despite his relationship with Solace, it’s an exhilarating thought to chisel away at what she has helped build.
Their peace has endured long enough.
Although Litote’s has lost his grip on Hyaline, it still doesn’t fluctuate Castile’s reeling thoughts. A shrug ripples through his muscular shoulders and, admittedly, he would roll his eyes if he could. Instead, he sighs exasperatedly. ”Women,” a low, dry chuckle follows but it lasts only a heartbeat, ”She led with idiocy and emotions. She is a poor Queen after all.” In truth, Castile has never met Kagerus, nor has he held the interest. Time has healed the gaping wounds in his heart, but a grudge still forces an interminable wedge between him and the Caretaker. In his vulnerability, she seized the opportunity to embrace Solace’s heart. Any hope that he had to love Solace again was destroyed by Kagerus and their homosexual love.
It was a painful truth to face when he returned, but the sharpness of the dagger has since dulled.
Life – and shit – happens.
”I’m impressed,” he adds casually, his voice mildly flat with his deep baritone. ”You aren’t a fool after all.” Litotes has indeed proven him wrong. Castile has considered most of the easterners pawns and spineless in the face of the Caretakers. He can only hope that there will be more than slump in exhaustion with the eternal peace. Growth cannot be attained in such a lull. Life is boring without spurts of unpredictability and chaos. That, is where Castile places himself and Loess – the realm of unrest and… fun?
A single laugh bursts forward in the residing silence, softening the testosterone-brimmed air between them. ”I don’t think being someone’s bitch suited you,” the truth slips like water from his tongue, and his face perfectly complements his honesty as their eyes briefly lock. ”Maybe there’s hope of a friendship in the making,” his confession – perhaps a true hopefulness – is uttered languidly beneath the day’s sun. It isn’t a promise seeing as they remain strangers, but something stirs in Castile’s gut as he mulls over the newest information and pieces together the puzzle. ”They’re idiots for dismissing you.” Castile glances away, toward the mountains that link Loess to Hyaline. The seconds melt away quickly before he turns his head to once again look at the, now former, Primarch. ”Make them regret their decision.”
Thoughts of revenge send subtle shivers down his spine, settling in the base of his tail in the form of vibrating shakes. He considers Castile with a topaz gaze that is the same cool it has been his entire stay in Loess.
The leader’s remarks roll smoothly off the lion’s back: the once Primarch agrees that the Cove’s actions have not been particularly wise as of late, though he does not think it is because the region is lead by women. The cremello was raised by a man with no hold on his emotions - impulsivity and foolishness are universal. If he could cock a brow, he would; instead, he settles for an intrigued tilt of his head. He does not quite find a need to rebuke Castile’s observations - thinking it may not be in his best interest, and perhaps the two can strike up a more . . . loyal relationship.
Ideas from minutes before the dragon’s arrival permeate the forefront of Lie’s mind once again. Starsin’s twinkling gaze flashes behind his eyes, reminding him of the opportunities she suggested with such a slick tongue. A little grin comes and goes in the blink of an eye: does powerful potential boil just beneath the surface of their attempts to outwit each other? The cremello thinks he is willing to look past what differences his capture may have created - thinks they may have the same goals in mind if Castile is even mildly similar to Vulgaris.
A few seconds of silence spread between the stallions as the lion mulls over his response. He knows exactly what he wants to suggest, but takes his time piecing together the precise words.
“I do not plan to be under anyone’s thumb again, though,” here he pauses, closing his eyes to slits and locking gazes with Castile. “I think the best way to make them regret their decision is to align myself with Loess. I may be wrong but - you have an inclination to stir up Beqanna, yes?” The answer lies within the chaos that vibrates beneath the king’s skin. The lion can never be sure of the other’s emotions until they are spoken, but he can sense an unbridledness that he possesses himself. A kindredness, if you will.
“Free me from my sentence and I will pledge my allegiance to Loess. Perhaps together we may accomplish each other’s goals more . . . efficiently.” He does not offer what he is really thinking: goals that can be accomplished more powerfully, perhaps violently, angrily - does not reveal those emotions just yet. “You don’t have to trust me yet, though your cunning advisor has already read my mind in her own quest for the truth.”
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
Admittedly, the Hyaline lion fascinates him. He is bold and tenacious. There are shackles around his wrists and still he carries himself with pride and with a mind brimming with ideas. If only Castile could reach into his thoughts and thumb through the options, but that would in contrast make everything far too easy. The fun would be stripped away if he was capable of seeing into his victims’ next moves and goals.
No, he rather enjoys watching many of them squirm beneath his intense stare and weigh out the benefits.
But Litotes? He is composed and steadfast in his response. The corner of Castile’s mouth quivers in a grin, his eyes lit by an inner fire. ”I hope you aren’t making assumptions, Litotes. I never mentioned you would be under a thumb.” I am not my mother, he nearly confesses, but few would know Nayl’s accomplishments. Her reign is a decade past, her memory having faded with the years and seasons. So, instead Castile merely shrugs. His muscles ripple beneath his coat, his expression at ease. ”I like a little excitement in life, yes,” here he half-heartedly chuckles as he – still somewhat angrily – reflects back on the Resort and how he tasted Tiphon’s blood on his tongue. ”But I have no desire to be a dictator. I don’t need subkingdoms, only trust. To watch the world squirm is payment enough for me, unlike your former Queens who wanted Hyaline and Pangea groveling at their feet.” They want a unified front, but their power is perhaps slipping since carving Litotes into exile.
So, wouldn’t it be wise to keep the Lion close? To keep at his side what they thrusted away? To harbor the ill feelings and direct them purposefully?
”And why should I free you?” An edge returns to his voice, and Castile’s eyes narrow skeptically. The cat could run, to turn easily against him (but who wants to anger a dragon?). Arrogance simmers within his chest as he feigns thoughtfulness. A step to the left, calculated. He pivots, facing east to where Hyaline sits on the opposite side of the mountains. ”More importantly,” his voice lowers, crawling toward a predatory noise, ”why should I trust you?” He is willing, ever so, but he practices caution sometimes. ”What grand scheme would come of me releasing you? Where would you go?” Slowly, Castile pivots again to face Litotes, his gaze flashing mischievously.
”What would make you more suitable as a friend than a prisoner?”
Chaos, he thinks. To see the East teeter. To see the Resort burn.
As their cauldron of desire and violence brims over, each man’s plan seems to take their first feeble steps.
These beginnings are always wobbly, teetering on the edge of what is real and what is not. Those who hand out trust so willingly are foolish, and Litotes will respect Castile all the more if his proposition is met with hesitation. The lion was once that way, placing his love and wellbeing in the hands of queens that tossed him out as if he had not devoted his life to their cause. Impulsive and young, sure - but malevolent? His true apocalypse was brought upon by the uncouth actions of traitors.
Even now, in the midst of a promising partnership, he wonders what pushed Kagerus so quickly over the edge. The burn is still fresh, still crackling hot and red upon his chest. The heat turns his skin to steel - nothing can stop him now.
Everything that spills from Castile’s lips comes as no surprise. Lie would have been more shocked if the dragon had offered that confident grin and release from his chains. Still, the pale lion can sense he has made no offense for that same relaxed yet analytical expression he constantly possesses remains. There is hope yet, whether it be in building his trust as a prisoner or formulating plans as two free men.
“Wise of you to question my offer,” he murmurs, bringing eyes that drifted back to the piercing gaze of the king. He does not squirm there, nor offer a look quite as challenging; instead, he visibly relaxes, finds comfort in sharing such calculated qualities with another. “For now, Castile, you have no personal reason to trust me - and I do not expect you to, at least not immediately.” Lie grins now, toying with the idea of a friendship.
With his eyes upon the mountains of Hyaline, he pauses. The usual pang of homesickness does not return, only the bitter and sad memories of Kensa. Any loyalty and tenderness he had felt for the East, Kagerus had severed. His attention refocuses on Castile -
“Starsin has read my mind and she can do it again: I have nothing to hide. As for what I can offer, among other things, a formidable amount of strength on your side - and an in with the East. The Queens have not banned me, nor do they know of my thoughts. I can walk comfortably and knowledgeably among their borders to both of our advantages. There is, of course, Primarch Kensa.” He pauses once again, chewing on the idea of seeing her face, then adds, “She will not take kindly to my permanent removal from the throne.”
As his gaze matches Castile’s once again, this time an angrier and more hopeful fire held in them, he finishes: “And lastly - I hesitate to say this - but my daughter is too smart and inquisitive for her own good. She tells me things I should not know - like the tumultuous take over happening in Pangea.”
Already the links in the Cove’s chains are weakening, the two just had to be wise enough to clip the correct ones.
