11-29-2018, 04:10 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
There’s a primal instinct of possession trickling into his thoughts when he glances at their daughter then to Sochi. Although not love – they are almost strangers – it is still a need to have her, to keep them both nestled to his side with his scent blanketed across them. They are his, he quietly muses, never daring to utter the words aloud because he can sense Sochi’s ferocity. It competes against his own even when their bodies melted together for the very first time. Two hunters met, their fire and passion explosive and volatile.
Admittedly, he reflects on it occasionally with smugness.
Yet both of them exhibit something different entirely with the arrival of their daughter. They display an unnatural tenderness when they touch the frail girl – so delicate, so new – and peer up at each other with the realization of what they’ve welcomed into the world. Castile doesn’t even try to suppress the proud smile that smears across his lips as he watches Reia nurse with fascination before regarding Sochi’s advice. As much as he wants to tuck away his symptoms, they are becoming more and more prominent. The infection sinks its claws into him, dragging him down with no reprieve in sight. He nods to her, understanding, but he doesn’t admit his ailments.
It would be weak.
It would be cowardice.
Reia slips to her mother’s chest, leaning against her comfortably while peering across the pestilent world with intrigue. Nearby, she can hear the river gurgle and the trees groan with a sigh of wind. Lifting her chin, the child lips at her mother and mimics her by drawing in a deep breath. Castile watches the interaction, still smiling as though not hearing Sochi’s confession. It tumbles around, however, and ignites a storm. He could blame her for all of this, for bringing so much destruction and disease to their home, but it doesn’t feel right.
No, not even his gut roils in retaliation. The fire doesn’t kindle.
There is instead an eerie calmness.
It’s a few breaths, a multitude of heartbeats, until Castile can break his watch of their daughter and look at Sochi. His head tilts, his eyes searching her face. There is barely regret. Perhaps, if she was someone else, he would have snarled, but with their story together only just beginning, he spares her and remains oddly tender. A shrug ripples through his shoulders. ”You didn’t know,” or maybe she did but doesn’t add that small detail. It doesn’t change his mind, not today with their newborn now suddenly looking up at him. ”This is the reality now. I just hope we can keep her – and you – safe.” It’s always the mother and children that take precedence. His own wellbeing is an afterthought.
It’s because of her role now, mother to his daughter, that he regards her so highly now. Reaching forward, he brushes aside her forelock but then takes a slow step back. Glancing away, he observes how much the plague has destroyed. This is their world, their home, now. This is where they will raise their daughter. ”It changed you, didn’t it?” The question is unexpected, even to himself. Turning his head, he dives into her silver eyes and tries to extract answers. ”It changes you when you kill.” I would know, he doesn’t add.
Admittedly, he reflects on it occasionally with smugness.
Yet both of them exhibit something different entirely with the arrival of their daughter. They display an unnatural tenderness when they touch the frail girl – so delicate, so new – and peer up at each other with the realization of what they’ve welcomed into the world. Castile doesn’t even try to suppress the proud smile that smears across his lips as he watches Reia nurse with fascination before regarding Sochi’s advice. As much as he wants to tuck away his symptoms, they are becoming more and more prominent. The infection sinks its claws into him, dragging him down with no reprieve in sight. He nods to her, understanding, but he doesn’t admit his ailments.
It would be weak.
It would be cowardice.
Reia slips to her mother’s chest, leaning against her comfortably while peering across the pestilent world with intrigue. Nearby, she can hear the river gurgle and the trees groan with a sigh of wind. Lifting her chin, the child lips at her mother and mimics her by drawing in a deep breath. Castile watches the interaction, still smiling as though not hearing Sochi’s confession. It tumbles around, however, and ignites a storm. He could blame her for all of this, for bringing so much destruction and disease to their home, but it doesn’t feel right.
No, not even his gut roils in retaliation. The fire doesn’t kindle.
There is instead an eerie calmness.
It’s a few breaths, a multitude of heartbeats, until Castile can break his watch of their daughter and look at Sochi. His head tilts, his eyes searching her face. There is barely regret. Perhaps, if she was someone else, he would have snarled, but with their story together only just beginning, he spares her and remains oddly tender. A shrug ripples through his shoulders. ”You didn’t know,” or maybe she did but doesn’t add that small detail. It doesn’t change his mind, not today with their newborn now suddenly looking up at him. ”This is the reality now. I just hope we can keep her – and you – safe.” It’s always the mother and children that take precedence. His own wellbeing is an afterthought.
It’s because of her role now, mother to his daughter, that he regards her so highly now. Reaching forward, he brushes aside her forelock but then takes a slow step back. Glancing away, he observes how much the plague has destroyed. This is their world, their home, now. This is where they will raise their daughter. ”It changed you, didn’t it?” The question is unexpected, even to himself. Turning his head, he dives into her silver eyes and tries to extract answers. ”It changes you when you kill.” I would know, he doesn’t add.
castile
@[Sochi]