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
Hyaline.
It is a scent he will not – cannot – forget. It’s etched into his memory, forever a part of him. Despite the multiple turns in life that brought him to the familiar hills and lake, Castile never made it truly a home. It began as a place of hope and prosperity, but it quickly soured him as it wreaked havoc on his life, again and again. Hyaline offered him nothing except despair. It helped break him down, but in turn, he was built stronger.
Funny how each of the lands Castile has lived in has helped mold him, no matter how long or short the time he spent.
It’s also funny how he comes around full circle and finds himself back in Loess. He was once its Alliance representative, once its soldier, once its Regent.
As often as he shunned the idea of settling here, Loess has been the only land to offer him anything substantial.
A quick replay of his life resurfaces when Hyaline’s scent scratches desperately at the inner lining of his nostrils. Instinctively, he bristles for a fleeting moment but softens as both his children and Solace come to mind. Although the source is neither of them, it still sets life to his curiosity. With the sun at his back, Castile closes the space between them, his mismatched eyes brimming with scrutiny as they rove across the male. ”Hyaline,” he notes aloud, suppressing all emotion tied to the familiar territory so that his voice remains rather flat. From what he has gathered, there aren’t friendly ties bounding the two. That means only one thing. ”A prisoner, hmmm…?” His voice throaty, a near growl, as the words roll against the lining of his throat – not unkind, but not amiable either.
With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Castile glances away toward the rocky hills surrounding them before easing his focus back on the prisoner. ”How long, do you guess, until your home tries to desperately take you back? I know they aren’t keen to see you fulfill your full term.” A deep, analytical breath is pulled into his lungs. Every scent mingling with Litotes (whom remains a nameless face still to the draconic king) is thoroughly noted and dissected until a malevolent grin lopsidedly crawls across his lips. ”I imagine a lady at home misses you dearly.”
It is a scent he will not – cannot – forget. It’s etched into his memory, forever a part of him. Despite the multiple turns in life that brought him to the familiar hills and lake, Castile never made it truly a home. It began as a place of hope and prosperity, but it quickly soured him as it wreaked havoc on his life, again and again. Hyaline offered him nothing except despair. It helped break him down, but in turn, he was built stronger.
Funny how each of the lands Castile has lived in has helped mold him, no matter how long or short the time he spent.
It’s also funny how he comes around full circle and finds himself back in Loess. He was once its Alliance representative, once its soldier, once its Regent.
As often as he shunned the idea of settling here, Loess has been the only land to offer him anything substantial.
A quick replay of his life resurfaces when Hyaline’s scent scratches desperately at the inner lining of his nostrils. Instinctively, he bristles for a fleeting moment but softens as both his children and Solace come to mind. Although the source is neither of them, it still sets life to his curiosity. With the sun at his back, Castile closes the space between them, his mismatched eyes brimming with scrutiny as they rove across the male. ”Hyaline,” he notes aloud, suppressing all emotion tied to the familiar territory so that his voice remains rather flat. From what he has gathered, there aren’t friendly ties bounding the two. That means only one thing. ”A prisoner, hmmm…?” His voice throaty, a near growl, as the words roll against the lining of his throat – not unkind, but not amiable either.
With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Castile glances away toward the rocky hills surrounding them before easing his focus back on the prisoner. ”How long, do you guess, until your home tries to desperately take you back? I know they aren’t keen to see you fulfill your full term.” A deep, analytical breath is pulled into his lungs. Every scent mingling with Litotes (whom remains a nameless face still to the draconic king) is thoroughly noted and dissected until a malevolent grin lopsidedly crawls across his lips. ”I imagine a lady at home misses you dearly.”
castile
@[litotes]