• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    some ancient call that I've answered before; birthing
    #2
    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
    Although not his first priority, Castile has still invested himself in Sochi’s whereabouts. Sabra demanded much of his attention, but he stems away from her as the seasons change. The frigidity of winter has begun to recede, allowing a gradual introduction of spring. What had transpired between him and Sochi was by no means a mistake. In her soul, there is a passionate fire that rekindled him during his darkest hours. She showed him a light when he saw only darkness. Her prowess, matched with his own, berthed something beautiful yet dangerous.

    He knew what they did; he knew the outcome.
    Now, it was only a matter of time.

    Much to his dismay, sickness has spread across his body. Fatigue rattles his bones and he is frequently awoken by a fever. While hesitant to carry this across the river lands, Castile cannot suppress his need to see another of his children born. He had missed both of his twins – a mistake for which he hates himself – and so he refuses to miss another. With enough determination and heightened senses, it isn’t long until he sees Sochi settling down to deliver. Naturally, he had flown here from the Ischia. He alights heavily, but stabilizes himself enough to avoid stumbling. Far enough away, Castile approaches placidly, watching as the child slowly slips from its mother’s womb.

    ”She’s beautiful,” he says when he is standing above them looking down with a soft grin, ”Beautiful Reia.” An abrupt step is taken away as a cough rattles through him, but then Castile immediately returns his attention on the pair. His mismatched eyes are laced on the child, observing how scales adorn her body and reflect a sweet, golden shimmer. Little does he know how much she will exhibit from her father. Where teeth will one day be, there are pink gums. A fire will soon churn in the girl’s core, but for now, she is meek and so very delicate.

    Reia’s eyes peer up at her mother as Sochi brushes aside her forelock. A childish grin reaches her eyes, a quiet hum vibrating through her. The arrival of the male is startling, but does little to waver Reia off her course. With an increasing sense of determination, she stands for the first time after multiple attempts. Sweetly, her muzzle glides across mother’s stomach which gradually guides her into a place to nurse. Fascinated, Castile watches it all before leveling his gaze on Sochi. ”How are you doing?” He asks, somehow knowing that she wouldn’t be angry for his absence. She is independent, a hunter. Their relationship thus far has been anything but tender.


    castile


    @[Sochi]
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: some ancient call that I've answered before; birthing - by Castile - 11-27-2018, 04:29 PM



    Users browsing this thread: 2 Guest(s)