11-08-2017, 03:09 PM
Such a beautiful thing, she is. There is a fairness about her that he has never seen; the other women in his life have always been passionate, aggressive, and brash. They have scars on their bodies and tales for each one, but Solace has a gentleness about her that lures him closer with another step. Hold her, his mind screams, warm her body as the wind howls, but he freezes in thought. It would be too forward, too great a chance for rejection, but it’s so tempting. The river spits on the rocks blocking its smooth course and the trees groan with the shoving of the winter breeze. Castile, quiet at first, stands so that his mane and tail whip frantically, more openly revealing the molten gold and silver of his eyes as they search hers. While Ciri briefly crosses his mind, he can’t help but want to hold this girl tenderly and to shield her like is his purpose. To protect, to adore.
But she says a word that draws him from the fantasies of his thoughts.
Hyaline, her home, and Castile struggles to subdue the chill that runs down the length of his spine.
She is Amet’s, too, just like Ciri.
His mind retracts as though she is a forbidden fruit, a gem he can never have, for the simple fact that she lives in that familiar kingdom. Shifting his weight, Castile gropes desperately for his composure although it hardly falters in front of her. On the outside, he is level and at ease, but inside there is a storm raging on. Another woman that piques his interest – she is not much younger than him – but that has a scent that mingles with the gilded king’s. He can’t betray the friendship, not again, so he treads carefully as his eyes level on hers.
”Ah, Hyaline. A beautiful place. I once lived there,” it makes him sound senile to admit having lived there, to have moved homes like someone whom has walked the earth for generations. He is only three, he muses, but in that time he has boasted, now, three homes. While Hyaline had been the briefest, he had done more. Although humble, there are some days he likes to imagine how much he actually helped that evening Hyaline burned. ”How long have you lived there? I’m sure you love it,” the lopsided, boyish grin returns because he can see the lightness in her gaze when she mentions it. It provides a sanctuary, one in which Castile had unexpectedly outgrown. His life’s path has meandered aimlessly and has provided no true purpose just yet. No responsibility, no direction. It makes answering her question more difficult while he wracks his mind for something – anything – to tell her. In the end, a resigning shrug ripples through his shoulders and an airy chuckle slips past his lips. ”Honestly, I just like coming here. I have ever since I was a colt,” and still learning to fly, he doesn’t admit. Instead, he adds, ”but I live in Loess, currently. It isn’t too far of a walk.”
Then, as though having harbored the question for hours, he inches closer and softly asks, ”We can try warming each other, if you are cold, Solace.”
But she says a word that draws him from the fantasies of his thoughts.
Hyaline, her home, and Castile struggles to subdue the chill that runs down the length of his spine.
She is Amet’s, too, just like Ciri.
His mind retracts as though she is a forbidden fruit, a gem he can never have, for the simple fact that she lives in that familiar kingdom. Shifting his weight, Castile gropes desperately for his composure although it hardly falters in front of her. On the outside, he is level and at ease, but inside there is a storm raging on. Another woman that piques his interest – she is not much younger than him – but that has a scent that mingles with the gilded king’s. He can’t betray the friendship, not again, so he treads carefully as his eyes level on hers.
”Ah, Hyaline. A beautiful place. I once lived there,” it makes him sound senile to admit having lived there, to have moved homes like someone whom has walked the earth for generations. He is only three, he muses, but in that time he has boasted, now, three homes. While Hyaline had been the briefest, he had done more. Although humble, there are some days he likes to imagine how much he actually helped that evening Hyaline burned. ”How long have you lived there? I’m sure you love it,” the lopsided, boyish grin returns because he can see the lightness in her gaze when she mentions it. It provides a sanctuary, one in which Castile had unexpectedly outgrown. His life’s path has meandered aimlessly and has provided no true purpose just yet. No responsibility, no direction. It makes answering her question more difficult while he wracks his mind for something – anything – to tell her. In the end, a resigning shrug ripples through his shoulders and an airy chuckle slips past his lips. ”Honestly, I just like coming here. I have ever since I was a colt,” and still learning to fly, he doesn’t admit. Instead, he adds, ”but I live in Loess, currently. It isn’t too far of a walk.”
Then, as though having harbored the question for hours, he inches closer and softly asks, ”We can try warming each other, if you are cold, Solace.”