02-10-2019, 01:14 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
A single laugh, gravely, claws the soft edges of his throat when Litotes quips in return with an arrogant, feline expression. It nearly reminds him of Sochi, but of course she is far more beautiful and a figure that Castile is drawn to. ”I obviously knew you were a prisoner,” his brow rises in amusement beneath his tangle of forelock. His gaze is unyielding as he sternly watches while thoughts makes chase across his mind. ”You reek of imprisonment and restlessness.” His voice is frigid despite the flames that lick the lining of his gut, wanting release. They threaten to kiss his lips, to escape beyond his yawning mouth, but Castile suppresses it all in place of his amusement. Two hunters, face-to-face, and they mirror impassive expressions and testosterone-brimmed retorts. It’s a mild faceoff, but one in which Castile doesn’t allow his temper to rise.
”Oh yes, the strong East,” the words drip from his tongue, indiscernible as to whether he is honest or sarcastic. One of the Cove’s territories lies in silent ruins while the other is missing half the monarchy. Powerful, indeed, he muses as his eyes dart away to a nearby outcropping of rock where a snake basks in the sun and speaks to him. It has only been in recent months that Castile has opened his mind to decipher the rantings of nearby reptiles. They’re only slightly informative with their vague descriptions of their world. Alas, word has slowly crept west with news of a silent and pestilent Pangea. ”The longer I have you, the weaker they appear, no?” their pacifist views perhaps prohibit them from taking more aggressive measures to return home one of their own. Although Litotes – he just now offers his name and role in Hyaline – seems assured that the East won’t try acquiring him back, Castile is largely unconvinced. He doesn’t oppose the statement, however, as he tucks his own beliefs into the deeper corridors of his thoughts to where much is happening.
His thoughts are chasing one another, reeling endlessly as Castile sweeps his eyes across Loess’ familiar grounds before settling again on the Hyaline prisoner. ”My, my, such an esteemed guest,” he drawls as the sunlight covers his body like a blanket, incubating his naturally-hot body. A contemplative narrowing of his eyes appears almost as a shield from the bright sun, but when his eyes open wider they flicker from serpent to equine. He can nearly taste the primarch’s pulse and sashay to the steady rhythm of his heart. ”Tell me, Litotes. Do you plan to always be the Cove’s bitch?” He does not say their names – Solace and Kagerus – aloud, lessening their pull on the lion just for the time being. ”Aren’t you bored with being their pacifist pet and holding the peace? Doesn’t it get stagnant having no fun or chaos or plans? To always obey them and their personal motives, and to let them decide who and what you are?” Venom dribbles from his words into the feline’s ears, seeping into his thoughts, tainting them.
A pause develops for a few breaths until Castile’s brow furrows in conflict. ”Or are you not as independent and ambitious as I thought? I could easily be mistaken.”
”Oh yes, the strong East,” the words drip from his tongue, indiscernible as to whether he is honest or sarcastic. One of the Cove’s territories lies in silent ruins while the other is missing half the monarchy. Powerful, indeed, he muses as his eyes dart away to a nearby outcropping of rock where a snake basks in the sun and speaks to him. It has only been in recent months that Castile has opened his mind to decipher the rantings of nearby reptiles. They’re only slightly informative with their vague descriptions of their world. Alas, word has slowly crept west with news of a silent and pestilent Pangea. ”The longer I have you, the weaker they appear, no?” their pacifist views perhaps prohibit them from taking more aggressive measures to return home one of their own. Although Litotes – he just now offers his name and role in Hyaline – seems assured that the East won’t try acquiring him back, Castile is largely unconvinced. He doesn’t oppose the statement, however, as he tucks his own beliefs into the deeper corridors of his thoughts to where much is happening.
His thoughts are chasing one another, reeling endlessly as Castile sweeps his eyes across Loess’ familiar grounds before settling again on the Hyaline prisoner. ”My, my, such an esteemed guest,” he drawls as the sunlight covers his body like a blanket, incubating his naturally-hot body. A contemplative narrowing of his eyes appears almost as a shield from the bright sun, but when his eyes open wider they flicker from serpent to equine. He can nearly taste the primarch’s pulse and sashay to the steady rhythm of his heart. ”Tell me, Litotes. Do you plan to always be the Cove’s bitch?” He does not say their names – Solace and Kagerus – aloud, lessening their pull on the lion just for the time being. ”Aren’t you bored with being their pacifist pet and holding the peace? Doesn’t it get stagnant having no fun or chaos or plans? To always obey them and their personal motives, and to let them decide who and what you are?” Venom dribbles from his words into the feline’s ears, seeping into his thoughts, tainting them.
A pause develops for a few breaths until Castile’s brow furrows in conflict. ”Or are you not as independent and ambitious as I thought? I could easily be mistaken.”
castile
@[litotes]