04-21-2020, 05:20 PM
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
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
Like the fierce tigress she is, Sochi fights it. She stands her ground and refuses to crumble in front of him, unyieldingly holding his eyes like she was never hurt to begin with. It shows more in her elusion as well and how she only answers for their children rather than herself. A lopsided, boyish grin still traces the edges of his lips despite how the conversation teeters back and forth. ”I have no doubt about that,” a half chuckle follows as he gaze casts down to the leaves at their feet, ”I’m surprised Reia hasn’t killed anyone yet or burned down Taiga.” Last he knew, she was there with Pteron, but since he abdicated the throne, she has disappeared amongst the trees. Perhaps their relationship was just as short-lived as her parents. Castile’s eyes blink painfully hard at the prospect but then he looks back up to Sochi with a raised brow.
”I didn’t say you were a fairytale,” because she has her barbed edges and ferocious bite, ”but you were nonetheless perfect in my eyes – teeth, attitude, and all.” His muscular shoulders roll in a haphazard shrug, almost in response to her own dismissiveness. It would be easier for both of them to turn away now and to forget everything, to move on and never see each other again, but for the first time, Castile isn’t keen on the idea. There’s still so much reeling in his thoughts, even if his sense of hope is minimal. Although she once said she wasn’t giving up so quickly, it seems as though she already has; she isn’t a forgiving woman and he cannot, truthfully, blame her. In his right mind, he understands his faults and mistake. Last they met, he was gaslighting and thrusting blame in every direction, his volatile anger in hot pursuit.
The faeries, finally, humbled the brute.
A low hum reverberates through him in initial response. ”Thanks for the confirmation,” his head bobs, deserving the reiteration, his name smeared with mud nowadays.
But it’s her next statement that grabs him, rattling everything through his body straight to his core. Of course, he doesn’t show her this. Like her, he remains unyielding and stubborn with only small bouts of humor poking through. He expected this; it isn’t at all a surprise. Yet, it’s the finality of her confession that stirs something in him, like she would never want him back, like what they had meant nothing and was never worth fighting for.
”I know that,” he says, his voice quieting to hers, matching her perfectly, ”because I thought I could own you and I took advantage of that – of you.” He sighs then, in realization and regret rather than pity. ”But yes, I know,” a frown finally shadows his handsome face. There’s a long moment of silence as Castile listens to the rustling of leaves and the whispers of a gentle breeze. There’s an inner struggle of what to say, of how to say it. Ineloquent, Castile just talks, his voice still considerably gentle. ”But, much to your disappointment, I can’t just… stop. I love you, Sochi,” he cannot help to shrug again, not expecting to hear it returned. He has accepted it. ”But I have no intention or will to control your actions anymore. Do as you have been, continue with your nature, with whatever and whomever… I just miss having you near, at the very least, even if it’s just once in a while. I miss just talking. We’ve been through too much to just… stop.” Castile takes a single step back, his expression drawn and resigned to his inner confessions. ”I’m sorry, Sochi, but I just can’t let everything go as quickly as you want,” as you can, he doesn’t say, reluctant to turn any of this onto her.
”I didn’t say you were a fairytale,” because she has her barbed edges and ferocious bite, ”but you were nonetheless perfect in my eyes – teeth, attitude, and all.” His muscular shoulders roll in a haphazard shrug, almost in response to her own dismissiveness. It would be easier for both of them to turn away now and to forget everything, to move on and never see each other again, but for the first time, Castile isn’t keen on the idea. There’s still so much reeling in his thoughts, even if his sense of hope is minimal. Although she once said she wasn’t giving up so quickly, it seems as though she already has; she isn’t a forgiving woman and he cannot, truthfully, blame her. In his right mind, he understands his faults and mistake. Last they met, he was gaslighting and thrusting blame in every direction, his volatile anger in hot pursuit.
The faeries, finally, humbled the brute.
A low hum reverberates through him in initial response. ”Thanks for the confirmation,” his head bobs, deserving the reiteration, his name smeared with mud nowadays.
But it’s her next statement that grabs him, rattling everything through his body straight to his core. Of course, he doesn’t show her this. Like her, he remains unyielding and stubborn with only small bouts of humor poking through. He expected this; it isn’t at all a surprise. Yet, it’s the finality of her confession that stirs something in him, like she would never want him back, like what they had meant nothing and was never worth fighting for.
”I know that,” he says, his voice quieting to hers, matching her perfectly, ”because I thought I could own you and I took advantage of that – of you.” He sighs then, in realization and regret rather than pity. ”But yes, I know,” a frown finally shadows his handsome face. There’s a long moment of silence as Castile listens to the rustling of leaves and the whispers of a gentle breeze. There’s an inner struggle of what to say, of how to say it. Ineloquent, Castile just talks, his voice still considerably gentle. ”But, much to your disappointment, I can’t just… stop. I love you, Sochi,” he cannot help to shrug again, not expecting to hear it returned. He has accepted it. ”But I have no intention or will to control your actions anymore. Do as you have been, continue with your nature, with whatever and whomever… I just miss having you near, at the very least, even if it’s just once in a while. I miss just talking. We’ve been through too much to just… stop.” Castile takes a single step back, his expression drawn and resigned to his inner confessions. ”I’m sorry, Sochi, but I just can’t let everything go as quickly as you want,” as you can, he doesn’t say, reluctant to turn any of this onto her.
castile
@[sochi]
that unexpectedly turned into a novel as i watch austin play RDR2