02-24-2019, 09:06 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
The tension in her muscles is nearly tangible. Castile can almost feel the rigidity radiating from her body into the small space between them. That’s what he wants, what he craves, and there is no suppressing the grin that pinches the edges of his mouth. She, this stranger, stands up to him impressively, but she is weighing the options and deciding where – and how strongly – she stands.
(Break her)
The reptilian hiss echoes through his mind, willing him to make her bend beneath his own will, but Castile remains unmoving for the moment except for the wandering of his eyes as they drink her in, again and again. ”Oh yes,” he agrees finally, ”Yes, each of the healers of course play their own part. I like having them all here, at the ready to be used for their skill.” He has tasted the reprieve they offer, and it’s addictive. To breathe clearly again and to not experience such a detrimental fatigue is exhilarating; it made his head swim the first time he experienced it. From that moment, Castile decided he needed more, and endless access, of it. ”What fun is there in being so peaceful?” Although not a warmonger, he rather enjoys the trickle of chaos every so often, just enough to have others at the edge of their seats in anticipation.
And she, dear Caelestra, is providing him that little drop of unsettlement that bristles down his body excitedly.
She steps forward in defiance, and his eyes brighten daringly. He matches her, taking a step closer as well with a growl that trembles the air between their faces. An agreement is met as she accepts her role comfortably, but Castile doesn’t dismiss her so soon. His tongue slips out and glides predatorially across his lips, as though there is residual blood still caked from his previous hunt. ”Touch me,” he demands coolly, ”I’ll be your first.” When he breathes, the air is hot and reeks of fire and brimstone. ”Heal me,” because it’s his new-found addiction.
(Break her)
The reptilian hiss echoes through his mind, willing him to make her bend beneath his own will, but Castile remains unmoving for the moment except for the wandering of his eyes as they drink her in, again and again. ”Oh yes,” he agrees finally, ”Yes, each of the healers of course play their own part. I like having them all here, at the ready to be used for their skill.” He has tasted the reprieve they offer, and it’s addictive. To breathe clearly again and to not experience such a detrimental fatigue is exhilarating; it made his head swim the first time he experienced it. From that moment, Castile decided he needed more, and endless access, of it. ”What fun is there in being so peaceful?” Although not a warmonger, he rather enjoys the trickle of chaos every so often, just enough to have others at the edge of their seats in anticipation.
And she, dear Caelestra, is providing him that little drop of unsettlement that bristles down his body excitedly.
She steps forward in defiance, and his eyes brighten daringly. He matches her, taking a step closer as well with a growl that trembles the air between their faces. An agreement is met as she accepts her role comfortably, but Castile doesn’t dismiss her so soon. His tongue slips out and glides predatorially across his lips, as though there is residual blood still caked from his previous hunt. ”Touch me,” he demands coolly, ”I’ll be your first.” When he breathes, the air is hot and reeks of fire and brimstone. ”Heal me,” because it’s his new-found addiction.
castile
@[Caelestra]