09-01-2018, 03:21 PM
The growl that slips past his lips is precarious, predatorial. It slips like water, his lips a broken dam. Before Castile could stop it and reconsider, the rumbling noise is already shuddering the air between them. It happens on instinct as he recoils from Breckin’s invasive touch. He straightens himself afterward and composes himself, but the flash of danger is an unmistakable chain reaction. At least, he muses, she is apologetic. The sincerity of her voice adds grease to his rusty gears while shifting into amiability, making it easier to nod his head in understanding. ”It’s risky entering someone’s mind,” but for whom is it more dangerous?
It would have startled him to hear his own name spoken from a stranger’s tongue had he not felt the tender brush of her consciousness thumbing through his memories. The touch was faint, almost undetectable, but Castile has experienced once – maybe twice – before. It sends a chill cartwheeling down the length of his spine, loathing the idea of his mind being so open and vulnerable. Mother’s thoughts were a protected sanctuary, a gift that he often envied after experiencing his first invasion.
But Castile understands the difficulty of harnessing a power. It’s a taxing process that can take months – sometimes years – to control. Sighing, he levels his mismatched gaze on hers, searching them for answers he has no questions for. Breckin, she adds, introducing herself sheepishly. A feeble grin lifts a corner of his mouth. ”Nice to meet you. I suppose you already know my name.” There is no sense echoing what she had already gathered from his memories, but he can’t help to wonder how much she saw or the extent of his emotions she could sense and relive. Unable to contain himself, his husky voice drawls, ”What did you learn?” From me, he doesn’t add. Did she see how he was raised as a prince by an iron-fisted Queen or how he struggled to understand being dragonborne? Did Breckin witness his highs and lows, loves and heartaches? Or did she only feel the infectious joy he had always known when roaming Nerine’s shores?
There is an amused gleam in the silver and orange of his eyes as they first peek past the woman – to see Nerine and its familiar splendor – then to look at her and read her expression.
It would have startled him to hear his own name spoken from a stranger’s tongue had he not felt the tender brush of her consciousness thumbing through his memories. The touch was faint, almost undetectable, but Castile has experienced once – maybe twice – before. It sends a chill cartwheeling down the length of his spine, loathing the idea of his mind being so open and vulnerable. Mother’s thoughts were a protected sanctuary, a gift that he often envied after experiencing his first invasion.
But Castile understands the difficulty of harnessing a power. It’s a taxing process that can take months – sometimes years – to control. Sighing, he levels his mismatched gaze on hers, searching them for answers he has no questions for. Breckin, she adds, introducing herself sheepishly. A feeble grin lifts a corner of his mouth. ”Nice to meet you. I suppose you already know my name.” There is no sense echoing what she had already gathered from his memories, but he can’t help to wonder how much she saw or the extent of his emotions she could sense and relive. Unable to contain himself, his husky voice drawls, ”What did you learn?” From me, he doesn’t add. Did she see how he was raised as a prince by an iron-fisted Queen or how he struggled to understand being dragonborne? Did Breckin witness his highs and lows, loves and heartaches? Or did she only feel the infectious joy he had always known when roaming Nerine’s shores?
There is an amused gleam in the silver and orange of his eyes as they first peek past the woman – to see Nerine and its familiar splendor – then to look at her and read her expression.
@[Breckin]