burning cities and napalm skies; Castile

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. His half-hearted greeting crushes her. Starlin had not yet put together his identity, but she’d had time to see him in more detail. Tall, dark, and undoubtedly handsome, her romantic’s heart is aflutter for all of a single beat before it is destroyed. It’s Castile, she realizes as he speaks his first word. The Prince of Nerine, Isobell’s older brother. The Princess seems so much older than Starlin is to the grullo filly, and her older brother is more of a distant deity than a flesh-and-blood equine. Yet here he is, in the very flesh, and she’s clearly so terrible that he can’t even summon false enthusiasm to greet her. Never high to begin with, Starlin’s self-esteem now hovers somewhere barely above her hooves. She hears him mention her mother, knows that he must be piecing together her identity. How terrible, she thinks, to have him be both disappointed by and likely to recognize her in the future. She considers abandoning her lifelong dream of becoming a true Amazon. It might be worth it to never have to see Castile again. But where would she go? Without ever raising her blue-grey eyes from her hooves, she replies in barely more than a whisper: “I know who you are.”

#teamawkward