10-19-2017, 08:01 PM
Castile is still drinking in the scenery and weighing it against both Hyaline and Nerine. A great part of him longs for the background noise of the ocean, the deep caverns, and the black sand. It brings a slew of memories from his childhood with both parents, Isobell, and a few other foals his age. Such a wonderful time it had been before mother urged him to Hyaline. While he enjoyed the emerald hills reaching for miles in every direction, it didn’t quite call to him. Loess, he imagines, will be the same.
Although his travels aren’t as extensive as Ivar’s, it seems as though Castile loosely tethers himself to a single place. There is no sense of belonging anywhere, at least not yet. It doesn’t bother him, not really, but he considers how both Ivar and Amet have settled themselves down with both women and kingdoms. Castile, on the other hand, is the outlier.
But he musters the imagination to picture himself here - at least for a few years – with Ivar remaining his companion just as when they were children. Nostalgia sinks its nails into him, clouding his thoughts briefly until Ivar’s hesitation makes Castile blink then raise a brow. ”Alright there, Casanova,” he chuckles, ”she’s off limits. I hear ya.” Not that he is hungrily seeking the attention and warmth of a woman. Solitude has mostly suited him during his months of practicing his shifting. It’s only recently when he sees others coupled together that suddenly he considers the prospect. Otherwise, he has been rather content.
Besides, he has his sister that he can devote his attention to.
With a flick of his ear, he hears her name spoken curiously from Ivar. ”Oh, Issy,” he murmurs aloud but more to himself as he mulls over the prospect of joining her with Ivar in tow. A feeble smile wavers, but then he declines with a slow shake of his head. ”No, I will find her later.” He is unaware how intimate Ivar and Isobell have been as of late; all he considers is Ivar’s eyes watching how closely Castile would embrace his sister. Their familial conversations would be terser, less loving with wandering eyes. ”How did you end up here in Loess? How’s your mother doing?”
Although his travels aren’t as extensive as Ivar’s, it seems as though Castile loosely tethers himself to a single place. There is no sense of belonging anywhere, at least not yet. It doesn’t bother him, not really, but he considers how both Ivar and Amet have settled themselves down with both women and kingdoms. Castile, on the other hand, is the outlier.
But he musters the imagination to picture himself here - at least for a few years – with Ivar remaining his companion just as when they were children. Nostalgia sinks its nails into him, clouding his thoughts briefly until Ivar’s hesitation makes Castile blink then raise a brow. ”Alright there, Casanova,” he chuckles, ”she’s off limits. I hear ya.” Not that he is hungrily seeking the attention and warmth of a woman. Solitude has mostly suited him during his months of practicing his shifting. It’s only recently when he sees others coupled together that suddenly he considers the prospect. Otherwise, he has been rather content.
Besides, he has his sister that he can devote his attention to.
With a flick of his ear, he hears her name spoken curiously from Ivar. ”Oh, Issy,” he murmurs aloud but more to himself as he mulls over the prospect of joining her with Ivar in tow. A feeble smile wavers, but then he declines with a slow shake of his head. ”No, I will find her later.” He is unaware how intimate Ivar and Isobell have been as of late; all he considers is Ivar’s eyes watching how closely Castile would embrace his sister. Their familial conversations would be terser, less loving with wandering eyes. ”How did you end up here in Loess? How’s your mother doing?”