hold me in this wild, wild world; Nayl

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails Nayl had observed with disappointment as Nerine’s numbers lacked in showing themselves to Brennen’s meeting. There had been Djinni, of course, and eventually Orion’s Belt, but all others neglected to heed him. The blood in Nayl’s body boiled and she duly noted it before ripping her attention into another direction. That had been prior to Castile’s birth, before motherhood softened her in the slightest of ways. When Brennen comes to her, he is not alone. A child – bouncing with energy and aloft happiness – shadows him, and it’s second-nature for Nayl to turn her head and watch for Castile. He is in the near distance, gliding from one sand dune to another. His attention is seemingly trained on his antics until he glimpses Bristol and her father closing the distance to mother. Deciding to quickly join them, he begins a slow descent, then canter, to the small group. Finally glancing away from the boy, Nayl’s eyes lift to Brennen’s. ”Hello,” her voice is less barbed and holds more respect, more admiration, for the male as she listens to him. He is no longer a foreign entity, a man of the Tundra’s past, but potentially a man of Nerine’s future. Castile arrives then, his nostrils dilated to thirstily drink the air. Despite the little nip of an autumn breeze, the boy is still lathered in a thin layer of sweat. He first regards mother with a nudge to her shoulder, but then he looks at Brennen and nods. ”Hello, sir,” somehow he has learned mannerisms despite mother hardly making use of them, ”I’m Castile.” His wings ruffle idly at his side before a silver eye drifts to the girl. ”Hello, Bristol,” a boyish, drunken-like smile creeping across his lips. Nayl watches him with curiosity at first, but Brennen is what grips her most. ”You have my attention,” she replies slowly, a brow lifting, ”go on.” Nayl covet and myrina's creation