02-13-2019, 05:11 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
Partner, he thinks, how cute.
As sunlight bathes him, his eyes are aflame and bright, curious even as he drinks lungfuls of their scent. Sylva, he reminisces, had a history with his mother’s home – his birthplace – but it has since severed those ties. Now, ironically enough, it stands with Loess where he resides as King. They’ve flocked to his border, facing the rumors of yet another King. Understandably, their patience is thin but Castile faces them confidently, unfazed by the scrutiny as he does the same. Likely, he muses, they have their doubts. As their words rise and fall with anticipation and disappointment, Castile addresses them flatly. ”I assumed as much,” they reeked of smug royalty. Their eagerness trademarked by an active set of rulers. Applauding them with a tilt of his head, he remarks, ”It’s good to see that Loess has active and proactive allies.” He almost steps forward in acquiescence that, indeed, here he is. He is the tangible truth of the floating rumors.
It's made clear how Sinner and Mary complement each other. She takes initiative and addresses the diplomatic conversation while the male hangs back, muted but attentive. Still, Castile’s gaze flickers back and forth. He wants to address it, to taste his daughter’s name as thickly as he can smell it. It could be a binding tie among their lands, a security between allies. It’s what mother had done once, but not with one of her own prized children.
Like a thorn in his side, it pokes and cuts his open… but still he holds it back for another moment longer so that he may recount his brief, and easy, ascension to the throne.
”I’m afraid it isn’t an interesting story,” he confesses as a shrug ripples through his muscular shoulders, ”Vulgaris was to make me General, but decided to instead step away and crown me.” He doesn’t admit to his brief time in the Resort. The control he had was turbulent and unsteady. They refused him, but still he reigned for months until ousted from their spit of land. It still burns in his memory, unforgotten and unspoken for. Their time will come. Not yet, not yet. ”There is no great war or tale, but the fact remains that Loess is now mine, and Vulgaris is gone.” A great part of him hopes it won’t be permanent, that the reptilian king will return and resume a role as soldier among their most treasured.
The thorn stabs into him again with another breath drawn in. He clings onto how strongly his daughter’s scent mingles with the stallion’s. Territorial, Castile desperately holds down his edged tongue. With a lopsided, smug grin he adds as though an afterthought. ”How is my daughter settling in Sylva?” He assumes she is there and not wandering across the meadow before pressing herself against Sinner. Lifting a brow, he murmurs her name. ”Valdis.”
As sunlight bathes him, his eyes are aflame and bright, curious even as he drinks lungfuls of their scent. Sylva, he reminisces, had a history with his mother’s home – his birthplace – but it has since severed those ties. Now, ironically enough, it stands with Loess where he resides as King. They’ve flocked to his border, facing the rumors of yet another King. Understandably, their patience is thin but Castile faces them confidently, unfazed by the scrutiny as he does the same. Likely, he muses, they have their doubts. As their words rise and fall with anticipation and disappointment, Castile addresses them flatly. ”I assumed as much,” they reeked of smug royalty. Their eagerness trademarked by an active set of rulers. Applauding them with a tilt of his head, he remarks, ”It’s good to see that Loess has active and proactive allies.” He almost steps forward in acquiescence that, indeed, here he is. He is the tangible truth of the floating rumors.
It's made clear how Sinner and Mary complement each other. She takes initiative and addresses the diplomatic conversation while the male hangs back, muted but attentive. Still, Castile’s gaze flickers back and forth. He wants to address it, to taste his daughter’s name as thickly as he can smell it. It could be a binding tie among their lands, a security between allies. It’s what mother had done once, but not with one of her own prized children.
Like a thorn in his side, it pokes and cuts his open… but still he holds it back for another moment longer so that he may recount his brief, and easy, ascension to the throne.
”I’m afraid it isn’t an interesting story,” he confesses as a shrug ripples through his muscular shoulders, ”Vulgaris was to make me General, but decided to instead step away and crown me.” He doesn’t admit to his brief time in the Resort. The control he had was turbulent and unsteady. They refused him, but still he reigned for months until ousted from their spit of land. It still burns in his memory, unforgotten and unspoken for. Their time will come. Not yet, not yet. ”There is no great war or tale, but the fact remains that Loess is now mine, and Vulgaris is gone.” A great part of him hopes it won’t be permanent, that the reptilian king will return and resume a role as soldier among their most treasured.
The thorn stabs into him again with another breath drawn in. He clings onto how strongly his daughter’s scent mingles with the stallion’s. Territorial, Castile desperately holds down his edged tongue. With a lopsided, smug grin he adds as though an afterthought. ”How is my daughter settling in Sylva?” He assumes she is there and not wandering across the meadow before pressing herself against Sinner. Lifting a brow, he murmurs her name. ”Valdis.”
castile
@[Mary] @[Sinner]