08-24-2018, 02:48 PM
Castile hardly pauses. When Ilma abruptly stops to consider him, he simply glances back over his shoulder at her, his cascading mane rippling in the sunlight. I did once, she replies. The heaviness in her voice paves his assumption as to how cruel her monster was. Worse than me, he desperately tells himself, but even then, he isn’t sure he can believe himself. Yet despite what crime had been dealt, Ilma found it within herself to forgive, but never forget. Her confession alone guides Castile to the realization of how large her heart is, how compassionate. It takes a great deal of strength to forgive anyone. Would Solace and Sabra find it in themselves to do the same? Could they follow in Ilma’s footsteps? He can’t expect it from them, but finds himself hopeful at the prospect.
”Good,” he wanted Solace to heal, but how much did she? What life has she forged since his disappearance? Ilma knows a great deal more than him, but he doesn’t delve into it. The knowledge is a forbidden fruit while they wander the meadow together. While he wanted a distraction, he found himself incapable. Every thought, every worry, stemmed from Solace and Sabra and from the mistakes he made. If not a diversion, Ilma is at least a body and voice to comfort him as the days steadily cool down from autumn to winter. The warmth she radiates blankets across them as he picks his way across the open field, slipping around a hedge only to return to her side. His mind now weighs her following question. In his musing, Castile’s shoulder finds and brushes against Ilma’s. The contact is electrifying, but reassuring. ”No,” a staccato answer then, ”yes,” shaken, ”I don’t know…” What drove him into the sky is a mystery. It wasn’t Castile in front of her that made the decision. A conflicted shake of his head settles his mismatched eyes on the grass groaning underfoot. ”It’s complicated,” a resigning answer brimming with guilt. She notes this and whispers how the monster changed. Underlying that, however, Castile realizes that it’s advice directed to him.
He can change.
He will change.
He must change.
To fit into her tale, he must reform himself and be greater than he had once been. It’s his only hope.
”You didn’t have revenge on him though,” he says amid his barreling thoughts, ”Sure, you lost some composure, but you didn’t seek to physically harm him. For that, you are a higher person than most.” It’s now that Castile finally draws to a halt, his left shoulder brushing against hers until he pivots to look at her more directly. Everything she has said, everything she has done, is what he needed, and unknowingly wanted. The tenderness dances in rhythm with her firm advice. A smile, warmer than it has been this entire time, softens the sharp edges of his face. ”Ilma, you are a beautiful soul.” His muzzle leans forward to press against her forehead, but the contact of their skin is brief as he takes a step back. Her kindness led him to face his internal conflict head-on and to see what needs being done, but it also was his life vest when his thoughts were dragging him underneath the darkness of his mistakes.
Has he miraculously healed? No. Has he suddenly forgiven himself? Again, no.
But she moved his blindfold to the side and she chiseled away at the hard exterior that he was hiding behind. Although he has never been cruel, he has been confused and lost. The heaviness of his breath rattles him and the chains around his ankles will slowly lighten as he faces his past with her guiding words. Castile is settled enough to truly be distracted now. ”You live in Hyaline,” he admits his assumption after another inhale of her sweet scent. ”Tell me more about yourself.”
”Good,” he wanted Solace to heal, but how much did she? What life has she forged since his disappearance? Ilma knows a great deal more than him, but he doesn’t delve into it. The knowledge is a forbidden fruit while they wander the meadow together. While he wanted a distraction, he found himself incapable. Every thought, every worry, stemmed from Solace and Sabra and from the mistakes he made. If not a diversion, Ilma is at least a body and voice to comfort him as the days steadily cool down from autumn to winter. The warmth she radiates blankets across them as he picks his way across the open field, slipping around a hedge only to return to her side. His mind now weighs her following question. In his musing, Castile’s shoulder finds and brushes against Ilma’s. The contact is electrifying, but reassuring. ”No,” a staccato answer then, ”yes,” shaken, ”I don’t know…” What drove him into the sky is a mystery. It wasn’t Castile in front of her that made the decision. A conflicted shake of his head settles his mismatched eyes on the grass groaning underfoot. ”It’s complicated,” a resigning answer brimming with guilt. She notes this and whispers how the monster changed. Underlying that, however, Castile realizes that it’s advice directed to him.
He can change.
He will change.
He must change.
To fit into her tale, he must reform himself and be greater than he had once been. It’s his only hope.
”You didn’t have revenge on him though,” he says amid his barreling thoughts, ”Sure, you lost some composure, but you didn’t seek to physically harm him. For that, you are a higher person than most.” It’s now that Castile finally draws to a halt, his left shoulder brushing against hers until he pivots to look at her more directly. Everything she has said, everything she has done, is what he needed, and unknowingly wanted. The tenderness dances in rhythm with her firm advice. A smile, warmer than it has been this entire time, softens the sharp edges of his face. ”Ilma, you are a beautiful soul.” His muzzle leans forward to press against her forehead, but the contact of their skin is brief as he takes a step back. Her kindness led him to face his internal conflict head-on and to see what needs being done, but it also was his life vest when his thoughts were dragging him underneath the darkness of his mistakes.
Has he miraculously healed? No. Has he suddenly forgiven himself? Again, no.
But she moved his blindfold to the side and she chiseled away at the hard exterior that he was hiding behind. Although he has never been cruel, he has been confused and lost. The heaviness of his breath rattles him and the chains around his ankles will slowly lighten as he faces his past with her guiding words. Castile is settled enough to truly be distracted now. ”You live in Hyaline,” he admits his assumption after another inhale of her sweet scent. ”Tell me more about yourself.”
@[Ilma]