05-07-2020, 02:39 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
Even as she reassures him – you didn’t fail – Castile cannot help to solemnly stare at the leaves underfoot, fallen from another autumn past. He doesn’t buckle down, doesn’t grovel for forgiveness or wallow in self-pity. The opinion is his own, whereas Oceane’s stands in contrast. In the wake of her response, he sighs with knowing.
Knowing that he isn’t perfect, nor will ever be.
Knowing that he makes one mistake after another.
Knowing that he brings upon self-destruction.
”I know,” is all he says to her in the quiet moment following the rippling snort. He always wanted to be perfect, but the hands he has been dealt always come up short of a full house. What would his parents say of him and of how fleeting heart and volatile ways? A chill cartwheels the length of his spine when he imagines Lior’s booming voice blaring into his ears in reprimand. Although nearing twenty years old, he will always be a boy to his parents. Maybe one day he will finally learn from them and stay true to monogamy and steadfast passion.
Lifting his chin at the mentioning of Alcinder, Castile cannot hold back the coy grin that spreads across the thin line of his lips. Of course Oceane knows – mothers have that intuition and world knowledge that makes them so great. For the first time in their conversation, Castile chuckles. It’s a hearty and gravely sound that compliments his draconic nature, even when he exhibits only the wings. ”He’s a good boy,” he reflects fondly, ”we did well.” Their son, thus far, seems to be a perfect embodiment of their greater qualities (Oceane has more than Castile, naturally). ”I’ll always keep him close,” he confirms with a promising nod and smiling eyes, desperate to swear upon this. ”Maybe one day we will explore far enough that what we do will actually be a secret,” he exudes joy in this, albeit teasing, ”but I doubt it. Mothers always know.” A gentle wind kisses his skin, a reminder of the cold winter upon them and a reminder of the bitterness developed between him and Lepis.
It's a sensitive subject, which he didn’t realize until the topic scalded him like hot iron. A deep breath hisses through his clenched teeth. ”Eventually,” he echoes with a shake of his head, upset even at himself for how things went awry. ”We do not see eye-to-eye right now. I would likely need to wait until she steps down from the throne,” a half laugh rises although there’s nothing really funny about the situation, ”which, I imagine, won’t be until she takes her last breath.” There’s so much behind the closed curtains, but he doesn’t dive into the dramatics and innerworkings of his mind. Oceane is friends with both of them, a mediator in this turbulent time, but Castile doesn’t pester her with soured opinions. ”I can only imagine how great of a Queen you will one day be.” Hesitating first, he reaches forward to touch the curve of Oceane’s jaw, breathing her in and memorizing her as though it will be the last time before reluctantly pulling away with a knowing smile.
Knowing that he isn’t perfect, nor will ever be.
Knowing that he makes one mistake after another.
Knowing that he brings upon self-destruction.
”I know,” is all he says to her in the quiet moment following the rippling snort. He always wanted to be perfect, but the hands he has been dealt always come up short of a full house. What would his parents say of him and of how fleeting heart and volatile ways? A chill cartwheels the length of his spine when he imagines Lior’s booming voice blaring into his ears in reprimand. Although nearing twenty years old, he will always be a boy to his parents. Maybe one day he will finally learn from them and stay true to monogamy and steadfast passion.
Lifting his chin at the mentioning of Alcinder, Castile cannot hold back the coy grin that spreads across the thin line of his lips. Of course Oceane knows – mothers have that intuition and world knowledge that makes them so great. For the first time in their conversation, Castile chuckles. It’s a hearty and gravely sound that compliments his draconic nature, even when he exhibits only the wings. ”He’s a good boy,” he reflects fondly, ”we did well.” Their son, thus far, seems to be a perfect embodiment of their greater qualities (Oceane has more than Castile, naturally). ”I’ll always keep him close,” he confirms with a promising nod and smiling eyes, desperate to swear upon this. ”Maybe one day we will explore far enough that what we do will actually be a secret,” he exudes joy in this, albeit teasing, ”but I doubt it. Mothers always know.” A gentle wind kisses his skin, a reminder of the cold winter upon them and a reminder of the bitterness developed between him and Lepis.
It's a sensitive subject, which he didn’t realize until the topic scalded him like hot iron. A deep breath hisses through his clenched teeth. ”Eventually,” he echoes with a shake of his head, upset even at himself for how things went awry. ”We do not see eye-to-eye right now. I would likely need to wait until she steps down from the throne,” a half laugh rises although there’s nothing really funny about the situation, ”which, I imagine, won’t be until she takes her last breath.” There’s so much behind the closed curtains, but he doesn’t dive into the dramatics and innerworkings of his mind. Oceane is friends with both of them, a mediator in this turbulent time, but Castile doesn’t pester her with soured opinions. ”I can only imagine how great of a Queen you will one day be.” Hesitating first, he reaches forward to touch the curve of Oceane’s jaw, breathing her in and memorizing her as though it will be the last time before reluctantly pulling away with a knowing smile.
castile
@[Oceane]