10-25-2017, 01:17 PM
Without a heart-wrenching allegiance to root him anywhere, Castile is most commonly standing at the river bank lulled into a trance by the gurgling water. He blinks slowly, his body shifted to cock a foot and droop his wings. Beneath the autumn sunlight he is at ease, feeling the gentle warmth blanket across his back. There is occasionally a soft gale to tousle his unruly mane and offset his forelock to reveal his mismatched eyes. Alone and like this, he is able to lose himself in the serenity of the river’s music and ignore the conversations of those mingling around him.
That is, until the heavy sound of panting lures his curiosity like a moth to a flame. The sound of stress ignites an instinct deep within him, a monster that has always been caged and unable to surface, but Castile turns his attention with a nonchalance that doesn’t disturb the tranquility of his pose. He sees the silhouette at first, then her scent gropes for him with urgent desperation, and then everything in him has piqued.
Something churns in him as his heart climbs to his throat. Before he can think and weigh the situation, Castile is already closing in on her with adrenaline-pumping strides. The changes across his body hardly faze him – mere prickles across his skin – but he more reptilian by the time he is standing above her. His eyes – one molten gold and the other silver – have slit pupils and an array of black and white scales crawl down his body. His wings mirror that of a dragon, reaching and expanding out from his sides like a curtain to protect her from prying eyes, and when he speaks, his teeth are crocodilian and jagged. ”Ciri,” he breathes her name in a far gentler way than one would expect from hi appearance, ”Who did this to you?” Prior to answering, Castile takes a quick sweep of their surroundings as though the guilty would be staring them down.
That is, until the heavy sound of panting lures his curiosity like a moth to a flame. The sound of stress ignites an instinct deep within him, a monster that has always been caged and unable to surface, but Castile turns his attention with a nonchalance that doesn’t disturb the tranquility of his pose. He sees the silhouette at first, then her scent gropes for him with urgent desperation, and then everything in him has piqued.
Something churns in him as his heart climbs to his throat. Before he can think and weigh the situation, Castile is already closing in on her with adrenaline-pumping strides. The changes across his body hardly faze him – mere prickles across his skin – but he more reptilian by the time he is standing above her. His eyes – one molten gold and the other silver – have slit pupils and an array of black and white scales crawl down his body. His wings mirror that of a dragon, reaching and expanding out from his sides like a curtain to protect her from prying eyes, and when he speaks, his teeth are crocodilian and jagged. ”Ciri,” he breathes her name in a far gentler way than one would expect from hi appearance, ”Who did this to you?” Prior to answering, Castile takes a quick sweep of their surroundings as though the guilty would be staring them down.