"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
The familiarity lulls him into solace and soothes the creature that lurks beneath his skin. A steady breeze, cool as it rushes from the ocean into his face, settles his aching heart and offers a brief distraction from the stressors outside of Nerine. There is so much to reconcile outside of these walls, but he refrains for now and instead bathes himself in some of his fondest memories.
Most of his childhood friends moved along and began lives elsewhere, and yet Castile continues finding himself lured back to these rocky cliffs. This land has always spoken to him in a way no other place can. When he peers off the edge of the ridge, he imagines the mouth of the caves with mother and father smiling, watching him with Isobell. Life had been carefree then, long before he had been faced with his monsters. Turbulence followed, but that was after he left his home and ventured to Hyaline and Loess.
He’s returned now, to Nerine, and all seems right again in the world again.
With a deep breath, Castile turns away from the cliff and the ocean, directing his focus on one of the seemingly few males roaming Nerine’s expansive landscape. ”Hello,” he says as the distance between them is closed off. He doesn’t hesitate, unafraid of strangers. For the first time in years, he is in his element. ”I’m Castile.”
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
It took him too long, but in the topic of home, there is but one answer he’ll ever give. Home is the place filled with family and for those whoe are so lucky, home is the place where one’s lover resides. Or happenes to be queen of. When that coincides with where the family lives (Chryseis and Ophanim to be excepted, but Hyaline is close and since Jenova will never have one home, she takes their son with her, at least for now), there is no otherplace he could imagine to live. It’s why he left the brotherhood (even though they’re still somewhat his family), in favour of Nerine.
Nowadays he’s glad he can be here all day. Most days, not unlike now, are spent with the queen of the lands just within reach of the dragon vision, and keeping one eye on her at all times while simultaneously trying to graze. In summer, he does so from the shadow of an overhanging cliff so as not to be too much of a target, reflecting too much of the sun in mid-sky. And when the flecked, winged and bronze stallion closes in on him, he notices a little late, and still tries to divide his attention between the stallion and the sotted figure in the distance. If he’s calculated right, she should not be able to see him, but he doesn’t know about his fellow Nerinian man for sure.
He smells of the coastal kingdom, and the roan remembers his promise to Ardashir. Meet this army of his. Question is, is this man a part of it, but as he sees the confident stance he figures that at the very least, come the need for a fight, they should be able to ask the man’s help.
Castile. Storing the name, the gold-haired stallion nods. ”I’m Leilan. I take it you also found a reason to come to Nerine instead of Ischia?” Ice blue eyes switch colour as the scaled roan looks the other man over, greenish, yellowish, back to blue, then Castile recieves a draconic-toothy grin. ”So is that family or one of these lovely Leviathans for you?”
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@[Castile]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Castile associates himself as a soldier. When he looks across his back, he sees a webbing of scars and his left ear will forever remain slightly ripped at the tip from his very first battle. But to others, he assumes it may be a questionable prospect; he looks so young to have attained so many old wounds.
There will be more, he has told himself. It would be a waste for his strength to be set aside for solely diplomacy. He, additionally, inherited mother’s brash approach to life. Since the Alliance, Castile has taken a hiatus from the battle grounds, but he itches for the adrenaline rush. The lust for it blooms in his core but he suppresses it with scattered distractions, biding his time until an opportune moment.
But it still brims, waiting, wanting.
Leilan scrutinizes him, but it’s matched easily enough before Castile blinks thoughtfully, restraining the grin that wants to spread across his lips from the familiar question – Breckin had been just as interested, even Scorch. ”This was my home when it was a matriarchal society,” he doesn’t include his moot role as a prince or the role mother played – it’s irrelevant now. ”and I just can’t seem to stay away for very long.” The rocky coast always seems to call to him with a siren’s voice, singing his name on the cool breeze no matter where he roamed. ”So, Breckin assured I’m more than welcome to stay and help protect Nerine.” It had been his personal idea to return, having landed from a brief flight at Nerine’s borders where he met the spotted Queen. It didn’t take much persuasion to grant him stay.
Perhaps she was smart not to deny him.
With an idle shift of his wings, Castile takes note of Leilan’s jagged grin and flashing eyes. He could mirror it, match him step-for-step, but he refrains. Let them all remain ignorant of what he is – what he can be. With an odd coolness to his posture and voice, Castile turns the question around, pointing at the male with curious, mismatched eyes. ”And you? What lured you to Nerine?” Family? A woman? A myriad of scents coats Leilan like a layer of oil, thick as they clutch desperately to his skin. Castile notes it while searching for any familiarity; he is, admittedly, unbothered when there’s nothing. ”Or maybe a mixture of both,” he drawls with a crooked grin.
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
The metallic colour on his newfound kingdom-mate is a dead giveaway; and looking him over, the gold-tinted bay roan knows him. Strength category, just like him. No way he's going for a pure diplomatic route, that's certain. Now all he needs to assess is, if this warrior would lose his head to the adrenalin rush, or could think clearly. He sure knows that his constant taunting in battle upset Viserion earlier, when he was still in Ischia - ultimately, that mock had ended prematurely because the scaled boy was just that, a boy, and a little too serious for Leilan's taste when it came to wounding a mock partner. Clearly that kid had a lot to learn, still. But Castile, seemed much more patient, and took his question seriously.
That usually is one of the two known ways to settle down the shimmering bay roan. Nodding to the given answer, he smiles a bit. Takes one to know one, he presumes; Castile is one of the later generation of Amazon princes, it seems. "Ah, yes. They'll give a lovely title for colts they have no use for, and suppose they'll have to be happy about it." He shakes his mane. "But it's still home, in a way." He knows his mother was opposed to the idea, at least when it came down to his own father, but the fact is, no Amazon would have given a colt a rank at the time. It's why he left, ultimately (even going so far as being angry with his twin sister over it). But Beqanna was home; he was here again, wasn't he?
At the mention of Breckin's name, his ears perk towards the man in interest of what she seemed to have told him, then his eyes cast sideways to assure himself she's still there, in the distance, not being attacked or anything. Reassured, he looks at Castile again and nods. "Did she tell you about Klaudius' threat to her person, though?" he wishes to know. If he doesn't know, the man should know now.
When it's his own turn to be studies, Castile's wings ripple and shift shape to a dragonlike form. It reminds him of Leliana, having instinctively reacted the same way to his scaled appearance, and he thinks nothing of it, because he doesn't know that there's more to the tobiano's shifting capabilities. He'd have liked to know, to be honest, it might feel more secure. The man is a warrior, that is clear. But a dragon sure is much more imposing than a horse can ever be. Still, come time, they'll find out what they're worth.
But the mismatch-eyed man has a return question, and Leilan grins sheepishly. "I've a bunch of family here, that's true, and even the Ischian tropics are no match for the Jungle as it was," he starts. "But if we're being real honest, I'm here because Breckin asked me to." That, however, is an answer that could still go two ways, he supposes - she could have asked for kingdom loyalty, instead of demanding he stay so they could just be together. If it weren't for the obvious look in his eyes, or the tone of his voice, that was. It should be clear it's the latter, at least, if the other man is interested in that sort of thing. If he isn't, if he misses it - he'll find out later, probably.
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@[Castile]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Castile manages a light-hearted chuckle as his memory stares into the reflection of his childhood. He had been the prince, a sliver of information that he allows to die on his tongue. It wasn’t a role to boast in this kingdom, and it didn’t provide him any benefits in life. He was a Regent in Loess once, but that was brief and more or less undeserved. The responsibility was placed on his shoulders when his friend left the kingdom; bearing the heavy weight was foreign and never settled well.
He can’t help but wonder, however, if the ranks are similar to what they had once been. Leilan mocks as though men still hold little power, but with an agreeable nod, Castile confirms that nonetheless, Nerine is home.
With a mild shift of curiosity, Castile’s mismatched eyes search for an answer that doesn’t readily come. Having to fish for it, he says, ”No. I didn’t ask,” and with a pause while he racks his brain he comes up with, ”Who is Klaudius?” The name has no meaning, no hold on Castile. It’s a tangle of letters lost in the foray of Beqanna’s lengthy tale. There’s no way he could remember everyone and everything. If it isn’t his family or someone in his home, the level of importance lessens.
An idle breath rises to Castile’s lips and while he has grown accustomed to the stink of black smoke, he can’t help to choke it down this time. As of yet, only Breckin has seen him for what he truly is. In his mind, the fewer the better. An awkward inhalation is masked with a look of surprise upon hearing Leilan’s admission, then a heavy swallow before lightening the tone of their conversation with a crooked grin. ”I see, I see,” his wings shuffle, ”a special invitation.” A brow lifts underneath his forelock and his eyes brighten humorously.
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
He's only a little disappointed. Not in Castile, obviously. But if Breckin doesn't want to tell her guards what to look out for, then it seems he is the only one able to keep watch. Doesn't exactly feel right, knowing that - so he's glad the man asks.
He sighs. "I was afraid she wouldn't have," he mumbles, a bit to himself, a bit of an explanation for the tobiano male. "Klaudius is a lavender pegasus; the one who raped queen Krone back in the day, in Ischia. Now, when me and some other fellows showed up and she never approached any of us, we voted her out as queen to favour Brennen's idea of a new brotherhood. Klaudius saw fit to throw and anger tantrum at the whole ordeal and brought his whole family - including Krone - to Tephra as if they were exiled. I don't know what happened between him and Warrick, but Wishbone, the former queen of Nerine, saw fit to capture him, but when Breckin asked him some question about his captivity, he thought it a good idea to attack her and threaten to rape and possibly kill her, too." Clearly gritting his teeth at this, he continues. "He's a threat to our queen and who knows else. If he ever sets foot here, it's not with any intention to talk, and he needs to leave as soon as possible."
The hard stare of his eyes give away he'd probably want to do more than that; like he told Breckin, if Klaudius touched her with those intentions, he'd be dead - there's no way he would be able to restrain himself in that case. But if he only showed up at the border, then the lavender man should be chased away in a more polite way - if threats and possibly faint attacks were to be called polite (in comparison to what he'd really want to do to the man, it is). Give him a chance to forfeit the intended attack. To be with the kids he'd mentioned, instead of chasing a Nerinian queen.
Leilan inhales deep, staring off into the distance for a moment, collecting his thoughts - subconsciously, again looking to where Breckin seems to be moving about leisurely, probably grazing. He knows she doesn't want him to constantly shadow her - this use of his extended vision is his compromise. Give her the space she needs to be seen as an independent queen, but should the need arise, he'd be around.
Castile looks at him humorously, and Leilan gives him a sideways grin at the words 'special invitation'. "Yeah. I don't think she dares to give me a label," he chuckles. "So I occupy myself with playing guard and trying to estimate if our warriors are good enough." He adds, holding in another laugh with a soft snort. Good enough to protect her - he doubts anyone would ever be, in his eyes, but at least he can try to make them all aware of the dangers. Since it seems she hasn't told Castile about them, he suddenly wonders if Ardashir knows who to look out for. Makes him suddenly anxious to go warn the white giant, too. But maybe at least, this story about Klaudius also tells Castile what kind of queen he has now chosen to serve - one too stubborn for her own good. One that sometimes, needs to be protected from her own stubbornness. Even if it means incurring her wrath, afterwards - he knows he would.
He can't possibly ask for every other warrior in Nerine to do the same, he thinks. But hey - letting them know about the situation, eased his mind at least a little.
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@[Castile]
uhhh what is time anyway
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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