[private] Super massive Black Hole / Castile

[Leilan]

Leilan

Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive

There’s too much left unsaid, and undone.

He hadn’t quite seen it soon enough, but Castile had been eating himself away. Sabra’s loss was hard, sure, and the retreat was logical. But since the dragon man had retreated, there had been no chance to talk it out. Now he had gone to invest the new isle, and found only Heartfire there - but his assumption that Breckin hadn’t seem fit to claim it quickly enough had Leilan snap at him; then received some snapping in return.

So what’s left of their budding friendship now?

He’d done very much the same thing had it been the other way around, like the winged man had told him so neatly. But that hadn’t been the point of his words. It wasn’t the retreat per say. It was the assumption to know everything and then immediately putting distrust in their queen that had put him on edge. Leilan would likely not have gone to the island and tell everyone that Sabra had failed them, had she been queen of Nerine instead.

The man’s behaviour bothered him. A dragon is highly flammable, of course - Leilan knows this as no other. But if he needs some peace of mind, he should know that he could talk to anyone. That there were friends who’d listen. Families to look after.

Life isn’t as simple as ridding the world of one problem with violence like they had. If it was, he could have just frozen the mare’s wings over. Ask Castile if he saw fit to burn them all alive - but there had been others around them whi could have been hurt (like Heartfire had demonstrated), and violence was always the last option.

Shying away from it however, was a whole different thing than preferring another solution.

But he can’t shy away from Castile either. The man is in pain and covers it with brusk mannerism. He needs to talk it out or, if all else fails, take it out, on someone.

Now it’s just a matter of finding him, of course. As he wanders the icy plains between the greener area and the closest link to Nerine, he wonders how one catches a dragon.

Perhaps with an offering, or a piece of gold?

you set my soul alight

HTML by Vanilla Custard

@[Castile] talk to meeee :[ (instead if the old one in Nerine?)

[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

Castile migrated away from the frost and snow when the opportunity arose. He has no power among them, no influence, and so he had been able to slip away to simmer down the frustrations clouding his judgment. With few trees to mask him, Castile is fairly noticeable standing alone near the eastern coast of the island. His eyes are trained on Nerine’s shore, miles away. His thoughts reach out and wonder if Sabra is okay. Soon, perhaps this evening, he will pay another visit. All he can provide her is his company, warmth, and support as she is slowly revived and released from Death’s cold grip.

Icicle Island is not yet suitable for her. With unrest and opposition, there is no definitive answer as to whom truly lives and leads here. The proposition remains unanswered, the battle option untouched. He was willing to sacrifice his own wellbeing if it meant solace for the Nerinians and a refuge for the sick, but most seemed to prefer a more diplomatic approach.

The result remains obscure.

It crosses his mind to fly south, to soar across Beqanna and note if any lands are uninhabited or available for the Nerinians to flood. They just need something, even if it is a place not adjacent to their original homeland.

But just as his muscles coil in preparation, he hears muffled footfalls behind him. Defensive in these recent times, Castile’s ears fall back into his unruly mane. He abruptly swerves, and it is accompanied by an inferno spiraling past his mouth. Act first, question last – it is a new idea while there is a resistance among them, a group of heretics wanting to steal what Nerine had already claimed. Perhaps the motto would protect him and deter them from remaining here.

Much to his dismay, however, it is Leilan that appears through the rising black smoke. Castile’s eyes narrow underneath his forelock, the expression curtained from view. ”Yes?” He asks with an edged tone of voice. The ground churns underneath his hooves as he turns to face Leilan, brushing off that he had just breathed fire and is now casually holding conversation. ”Any updates?” His voice is coarse as he stares first at the stallion then to the island beyond them both, obviously implying the welfare of the spit of land. Those of rank will be the ones to decide, not him, but his curiosity nevertheless surfaces.

castile

[Leilan]

Leilan

Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive

When he finds the tobiano male, he is facing the south-east, as if debating going to Nerine or even, elsewhere. But before long, he is within hearing distance also (sometimes, he forgets that his range of sight is larger than average), and gets greeted with a puff of smoke.

Surely any of the newcomers might have met fire, instead.

Not like Leilan is one to blame the man, though. It's putting the roan on edge, too, to know that the other horses on the island aren't refugees, but devils-in-disguise. It's opposition in name only, but going around killing people is something that Nerine isn't supposed to be - they're not mercenaries like Loess. That, and his mother would probably strangle him.

Doesn't mean that he secretly, also wants to get rid of them the easy way.

Castile greets him with a question, almost as if the roan had sought him out with a task. He had not, however, so he skips the first, 'yes?' in favour of the next question, updates. The gold-clad stallion shrugs a bit, waiting for most of the smoke to clear out before answering in full. "There's a fourth, now," As if three wasn't bad enough. "On the plus side, the green mare is reasonable like we'd established earlier," he moves one ear backwards to the rest of the island, but doesn't hear anyone, "and I think we've come to an understanding."

He takes a deep breath, looking past the winged shifter to Nerine. Wondering what would have become of this island had he stayed there, instead. "As much as I would like to see them burn, I doubt they'd stand for it." he admits, grinning a bit sheepishly at the other dragon, before letting that falter. He'd make the effort not to have to go to war, because starting a fire here would burn him one way or the other (if they'd be able to drive the invaders off violently, they'd have much of Nerine to answer to, and if it failed, they'd likely be dead themselves or would have started a war they might not win). But if they gave them no other option, then so be it.

Like Klaudius.

"How are you holding up?" Out of the blue, he asks, staring at Nerine. He wonders what had become of Sabra, then. Castile had mentioned her earlier but only in the heat of anger. Nobody seemed to know. Nobody dared to ask. What he'd done with her body, after carrying her away.

He assumed that Cas would have buried her somewhere, or put her in a small cave with a nice view, or whatever.

It didn't cross his mind yet, she might be immortal.

you set my soul alight

HTML by Vanilla Custard

@[Castile] Oops I never tagged you

[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

There is no attempt to quell his scoff when Castile hears that a fourth has added a hand to the bucket. ”Bloody idiots,” he seethes with a snarl curling his lip. The ordeal has been tiresome, one in which Castile was half-tempted to resign from. Alas, the Nerinians remain a stubborn group and have thus far refused to back down. With Leilan as the ringmaster, the results will fall into his hands, the crown possibly onto his head.

Castile has gradually faded to the background. A quiet dismissal was enough to settle his nerves, albeit temporarily. There’s no sense in his presence anymore; they’ve seen him, and although they haven’t witnessed his counterpart, they at least are aware of the opposition. ”What if all of it is for nothing?” Underneath his unruly forelock, Castile raises a brow. ”What if, when all of this is done and a leader is decided, this island sinks or remains beyond the power of a monarchy?” An airy chuckle slips from him as his eyes fall to the grass underfoot, the frost having melted from the heat of his fire. ”A waste of energy.” It’s very possible, he assumes. The faeries surfaced this island so easily. What would stop them from sinking it again? They are as unpredictable as the land itself.

And the lives within it.

He thinks of Sabra then, kindled by Leilan’s vague question. They both know what it’s in regards to. Castile’s heart trembles briefly, panicking against his ribcage as the memory flashes across his vision. Scales ripple across his skin, but in the blink of an eye, they’re gone and forgotten. ”She’s alive,” he says with a sigh, grabbing onto the relief that blossomed through him when she took her first breath and releasing his grip on the initial anger of her demise. ”By some damn miracle, Sabra is alive.” A grin nearly reaches his lips. They quiver as his gaze begins to level on Leilan. ”I’ve been trying to protect her on a rocky outcropping offshore. She doesn’t know about the plague yet.” It would only be a matter of time before she will witness the effects of it and he will have to attempt shielding her again. He can only hope to keep her safe.

To add to the stress, however, she isn’t the only one he is concerned for.

With a scattered family and responsibilities, Castile is weighed down when he exhales slowly into the cold air. So many thoughts, so many places that he needs to be. He says and does nothing more, letting the wind tousle his locks quietly.

castile

[Leilan]

Leilan

Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive

The gold-haired roan nods at the scoff he recieves upon the news. Unfortunately, they’re all bloody idiots, he agrees. But letting go now is a weakness he can’t afford himself. There can only be one kingdom in the region, and it’s gonna be Nerine. That is even besides having these foul souls as neighbours. He shakes head and crest, and doesn’t comment further. Deep down he’s pretty sure Castile and he feel the same. When the patched male continues his speech, and there he recieves a chuckle or scoff from Leilan. ”If only it were that simple. I’d be happy with it, I think.” No safe place for their Nerinian children, but at least, not these people as their direct, threatening neighbours. ”Although they might pick Taiga as their base and we’d have the same problem.”

He’s silent for a bit but after his own sudden question, Castile tells him Sabra’s alive. Leilan slowly exhales a breath, nearly a sigh. ”I’m glad she is. She deserves better.” Smiling also, though it doesn’t really reach his eyes, he muses a moment if this changes him and Cas for the better or the worse - but no. Klaudius had still killed her. Murderers and rapists wouldn’t be tolerated. End of story.

He nods more sternly when the other stallion tells him she doesn’t know about the plague yet. Sometimes it’s best not to trouble a recovering mind further - in fact perhaps Cas himself might not have wanted to get involved in the Isle’s mess, either. ”All in due time. Whenever she’s ready.” he voices, a little lost-sounding when he thinks of his own family. Scattered and lost. But instead of by now being able to call them all here, to a new and safe home, he has nothing to give them. He can go looking, and then tell them to stay put in whatever safe land they’ve perhaps found, or convince them to come back to Nerine - but that’s pretty pointless, isn’t it?

The stallion besides him, may also have some of those, he muses. Relatives, or children sired. ”Any others? I’m pretty much bound to this place or it’ll be run over, but if you need to get out and look, perhaps you should. I don’t think it will come down to a day.” If Castile wants in on any fighting (he’s pretty sure he does, but still) - well, to be honest Leilan’s quite sure they will be getting it. Even if he should miss out on it on the first day, there’ll be plenty left for everyone - unfortunately.

But they sure can’t keep waiting for it, can they? They have lifes to live.

you set my soul alight

HTML by Vanilla Custard

@[Castile]

[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

”I don’t know how she ever got tied up with that idiot,” Klaudius, of course, but the necessity of the name is moot. At this point, their victim’s name is implied and fading from the tongues of their peers. The murder was cruel, but Castile inwardly wishes it had been more so. They could have elongated the stallion’s misery so that he could’ve suffered sufficiently, but Castile was hungry for vengeance. He did everything he could not to rip apart and eat the fool.

It is a piece of their past now. Unfortunately, Castile doesn’t realize that there will remain a piece of Klaudius latched to Sabra’s side soon.
The idiot will be in the past, present, and future.

Castile recognizes how his heart wrenches painfully in his chest. It’s a sense of longing, and of failure. His emotions are untethered, free to swirl through him like a storm. Futile attempts are made to harness them as he replays the transpired events with a resigning nod. ”She does deserve better,” he murmurs into the chilled air, his breath clouding in front of him as he stares thoughtfully toward the north. The agreement hangs without elaboration for a long moment before a half-hearted chuckle breaks Castile’s musing. ”She deserves better than me,” his confession is choked with far too much to pinpoint. Is it anger? Distress? Regret? Not even he, the brooding dragon, can determine what is most dominating him when the words tumble forward. So, he simply sighs and drops his head to idly brush apart the snow to find a few sparse blades of grass. His wings shuffle. His tail flicks. Everything is a sign of his internal conflict.

When he lifts his eyes again, leveling on Leilan, he nods. ”Yes, there are others. My family is all over the damned place.” They aren’t in a centralized location as he would prefer. Their scattered locations are wearing him down from having to frequently travel. ”Hyaline, Nerine, the Cove, and the River. They’re everywhere – one here, one there.” A slow shake of his head betrays the disappointment. He can’t even provide his entire brood a single home. Much like him, they are nomads. ”My twins are in the Cove,” he doesn’t know that Valdis slipped away and disobeyed her parents, ”so they are next on the list to visit.” A chill runs down Castile’s spine, a reminder of the infection brewing inside him, worsening with each passing day. Although it may hinder him as a sentinel here, he still hesitates to abandon the borders knowing well that a storm is looming nearer. ”And if the group of goonies comes back to pitch a fit or fight?” Underneath his forelock, his brow lifts. ”If I’m gone to find my kids, I might not be back here in time.” He would, obviously, take part in Nerine’s success.

”I guess I will just have to be fast.” A chuckle and a cough follow as he maps out his next few days.

castile

[Leilan]

Leilan

Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive

He doesn't really know how to answer Castile when he seems to wonder aloud how Sabra ever got involved with Klaudius. Leilan doesn't know of their history, and hadn't seemed it fit to ask her. Heck, as if there had ever been time for proper conversing between him and the pearlescent mare - she'd been talking to Kagerus, and to Castile, but not much to him. Not that he needed her to, per say; but he doesn't assume to know anything about her, that's what it is.

Castile seems to ponder the subject of Klaudius a tad longer than Leilan had - or perhaps just Sabra. He answers a little late, but the answer comes all the same. She deserves better than me. The gold-tinted roan would have nodded to that, not too long ago. But things have twisted and changed, over time and failures and forgiveness. So instead, he looks sideways to his dragon friend. "She deserves to decide that for herself. All we can do is be grateful for how much they can forgive." he says, voice falling to a softer sound a bit at the second sentence. All in all, it seems that both of the dragon-stallions have made similar mistakes in their lives. And looking back there's only one of those at the root of it - not accepting their love for what they are, not acting on it soon enough. Not daring, perhaps, to let them in and see their vulnerable points.

On the subject of children or family, Castile lists a few places - about as many as Leilan himself would have to go look. So the scaled roan nods to him. "Perhaps a back-and-forth is the quickest way to ensure no battle has started here," then he chuckles. "Though I think you'd hear of it soon enough. These things never go about quietly."

He flicks his tail in thought. "Perhaps I should do the same. I know some of them take too much after me - restless in their youth. They'll be wandering." he grins, near-guiltily perhaps. Ah well, that was perhaps the nature of things. Any parent would recognize something of themselves in their children - even the things they would have hoped not to pass on.

He'd have to coordinate it though... but just maybe, there'd be one or some around that would be able to warn him quick enough. Or like he'd proposed to Cas, he'd be on the back and forth routine. One day for each place to visit, return every evening to check on things. It'd be a busy time... but he wasn't sick yet, and perhaps he would be lucky and find his children quickly.

you set my soul alight

HTML by Vanilla Custard

@[Castile]

[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

”I suppose,” it would, indeed, be her decision but wouldn’t it be easier for them both if everything was thrown away? He is hurting her, time and time again. Every day he chisels another piece off her, destroying the fiery woman he met on the Plains. It isn’t as though it’s intentional, however; it’s seemingly his nature, his curse. As much as he wanted love and a family as a child, he has destroyed every opportunity as it approached fruition. Solace, and now Sabra. Ciri had been ruined early on, but not because of him – not really, right? While Leilan is trying to console him, Castile can only glance distantly away with a haze of doubt clouding his vision. ”I’m likely on my last forgiveness,” and as grueling as it is to admit, he still chuckles at his own failures.

With a heavy sigh, Castile shrugs. ”Downfall of having two sets of twins, I suppose. They tend to just wander wherever.” It sounds as though he has his own brood of children, far too many to count with discarded mothers everywhere, but in reality he has actually kept more to himself than his childhood friend, Ivar.

His intentions of enjoying a family are conveyed in the concern twisting into his voice when he speaks of them and their whereabouts. If only he had a herdland to which they could all harbor themselves. There would be no need then to wander so aimlessly and be so scattered across Beqanna. Unfortunately, it’s a far-off dream that he struggles to grab and hold. His poor choices led him down this nomadic road. Nerine could have been his but Isobell passed it off because he fell absent. He could have tried to obtain Hyaline from Amet or joined forces with Solace, but alas, he once again vanished in a cloud of smoke. His mistakes have led him astray. Paddling desperately, he tries to set himself back on track, but he’s drowning… he’s being pulled under.

”I’ll be back then,” because he cannot further set his children aside for a land that is quaking with unresolved qualms. With a curt nod, Castile departs, walking until he disappears from sight before taking flight.

castile