[private] on laugh-silvered wings

[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 rhythmic drumming of Castile’s wings are all that he hears high above the clouds where he is unseen and his thoughts uninterrupted.

(Hunt)

(Feed)

(Kill)

A groan passes through him in response to the clawing words, barrel rolling and altering his direction effortlessly. As tempting as it is to succumb to his primal needs, Castile suppresses it beneath the concern for his missing son (yet another, taken and missing).

(Hunt)

The instincts push harder against his consciousness, but Castile merely dips below the clouds, casting his eyes toward the ground far below. From here, the world is littered with ants. Such tiny things they all are, insignificant.

No, no. Not insignificant. Family.

(Prey)

Another groan, another wave of resistance. It lowers him more as he takes note of details, admiring the canyons and hills before he glimpses Lepis and Oceane. A fleeting consideration to resume his aimless flight crosses his mind, but Castile abruptly twirls when he recognizes Alcinder clutched tightly to his mother’s chest. Both surprise and joy inject themselves into his every thought, masking all else that existed. Shifting his immense body, he descends rapidly toward them. His perilous dive and excitement washes him of color, paling him to a ghostly white except for the bronze of his spines and wings, and obsidian talons that grope for the ground as he looms nearer.

No matter how skillfully he tilts himself for his hind legs to first alight, closely falling to fours, the ground trembles and resonates through their immediate area. Hanging out of his lips’ reach are his predatory teeth that forebodingly catch the sunlight as he lowers his head to their height. ”Alcinder,” he croons, his son’s name falling like boulders from Castile’s mouth – a deep and demanding baritone that ripples through their bodies. ”We missed you,” a deep breath sighs from his lungs while he blinks and admiringly observes their son before glancing to Oceane, then Lepis.

He says nothing, but his lips stretch back in a toothy grin. He cannot embrace them, cannot press his face into their manes or trail kisses along Oceane’s neck in the heat of this moment. A slight tilt of his head returns his attention to Alcinder. His heart aches. Not yet has he even been able to pull his son into his side or ruffle his Mohawk.

It hits him suddenly, the things that he misses and the opportunities he loses in this body.

Resting his head down on the rocky soil, Castile simply savors being here, with all of them.

castile

@[Oceane] @[Lepis]