11-08-2018, 01:54 PM
and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
Castile migrated away from the frost and snow when the opportunity arose. He has no power among them, no influence, and so he had been able to slip away to simmer down the frustrations clouding his judgment. With few trees to mask him, Castile is fairly noticeable standing alone near the eastern coast of the island. His eyes are trained on Nerine’s shore, miles away. His thoughts reach out and wonder if Sabra is okay. Soon, perhaps this evening, he will pay another visit. All he can provide her is his company, warmth, and support as she is slowly revived and released from Death’s cold grip.
Icicle Island is not yet suitable for her. With unrest and opposition, there is no definitive answer as to whom truly lives and leads here. The proposition remains unanswered, the battle option untouched. He was willing to sacrifice his own wellbeing if it meant solace for the Nerinians and a refuge for the sick, but most seemed to prefer a more diplomatic approach.
The result remains obscure.
It crosses his mind to fly south, to soar across Beqanna and note if any lands are uninhabited or available for the Nerinians to flood. They just need something, even if it is a place not adjacent to their original homeland.
But just as his muscles coil in preparation, he hears muffled footfalls behind him. Defensive in these recent times, Castile’s ears fall back into his unruly mane. He abruptly swerves, and it is accompanied by an inferno spiraling past his mouth. Act first, question last – it is a new idea while there is a resistance among them, a group of heretics wanting to steal what Nerine had already claimed. Perhaps the motto would protect him and deter them from remaining here.
Much to his dismay, however, it is Leilan that appears through the rising black smoke. Castile’s eyes narrow underneath his forelock, the expression curtained from view. ”Yes?” He asks with an edged tone of voice. The ground churns underneath his hooves as he turns to face Leilan, brushing off that he had just breathed fire and is now casually holding conversation. ”Any updates?” His voice is coarse as he stares first at the stallion then to the island beyond them both, obviously implying the welfare of the spit of land. Those of rank will be the ones to decide, not him, but his curiosity nevertheless surfaces.
Icicle Island is not yet suitable for her. With unrest and opposition, there is no definitive answer as to whom truly lives and leads here. The proposition remains unanswered, the battle option untouched. He was willing to sacrifice his own wellbeing if it meant solace for the Nerinians and a refuge for the sick, but most seemed to prefer a more diplomatic approach.
The result remains obscure.
It crosses his mind to fly south, to soar across Beqanna and note if any lands are uninhabited or available for the Nerinians to flood. They just need something, even if it is a place not adjacent to their original homeland.
But just as his muscles coil in preparation, he hears muffled footfalls behind him. Defensive in these recent times, Castile’s ears fall back into his unruly mane. He abruptly swerves, and it is accompanied by an inferno spiraling past his mouth. Act first, question last – it is a new idea while there is a resistance among them, a group of heretics wanting to steal what Nerine had already claimed. Perhaps the motto would protect him and deter them from remaining here.
Much to his dismay, however, it is Leilan that appears through the rising black smoke. Castile’s eyes narrow underneath his forelock, the expression curtained from view. ”Yes?” He asks with an edged tone of voice. The ground churns underneath his hooves as he turns to face Leilan, brushing off that he had just breathed fire and is now casually holding conversation. ”Any updates?” His voice is coarse as he stares first at the stallion then to the island beyond them both, obviously implying the welfare of the spit of land. Those of rank will be the ones to decide, not him, but his curiosity nevertheless surfaces.
castile