07-17-2019, 08:50 AM
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
Castile wants, yearns, for a familial closeness and unity that is unmatched. The need for it burrows deep into his soul, creating an unsated ache. His children have all dispersed – save for a few that remain idly nearby – and some have families themselves that Castile has not had the opportunity to meet yet. He wants to be there, to be a present father and grandfather, but an invisible barrier prevents him from doing so. Chains shackle him just out of reach of his family.
But she, young Dracarys, comes with a key that unlatches and frees him from his restraints. It comes as a surprise, her arrival, but when he notices her in the distance, she nearly mirrors Valdis. It’s in the way she walks, in her pretty face, and in the shades of blue that stretch across her body. There is a familiarity in her that sinks into Castile’s bones immediately and bursts through his heart. There is no hesitation. Within a hearts breadth, he moves toward her.
Although puzzling to be unaware of her name, he doesn’t let it hinder his approach as the distance gradually closes. Each step inches his nearer. Each second enables his eyes to trace another of her features – her eyes, her mouth, her curious expression – until he is in front of her, the organic gate into Loess. ”Hello,” his voice is vibrant though deep as the single word rumbles from the depths of his throat. The heat of his breath coils past his lips into the wintry air. ”Who, might I ask, are your parents?” He wants to assume, to immediately pull her into an embrace if she is exactly who he thinks, but he hesitates. He reconsiders with a flick of an ear and a quick glance down to his hooves.
Too forward, he tells himself. Too eager.
With a shake of his head and neck – his metallic locks dance wildly – he takes a dragged step back and levels his eyes onto her own. ”My apologies. Um, my name is Castile.” Your grandfather, maybe, he doesn’t add.
But she, young Dracarys, comes with a key that unlatches and frees him from his restraints. It comes as a surprise, her arrival, but when he notices her in the distance, she nearly mirrors Valdis. It’s in the way she walks, in her pretty face, and in the shades of blue that stretch across her body. There is a familiarity in her that sinks into Castile’s bones immediately and bursts through his heart. There is no hesitation. Within a hearts breadth, he moves toward her.
Although puzzling to be unaware of her name, he doesn’t let it hinder his approach as the distance gradually closes. Each step inches his nearer. Each second enables his eyes to trace another of her features – her eyes, her mouth, her curious expression – until he is in front of her, the organic gate into Loess. ”Hello,” his voice is vibrant though deep as the single word rumbles from the depths of his throat. The heat of his breath coils past his lips into the wintry air. ”Who, might I ask, are your parents?” He wants to assume, to immediately pull her into an embrace if she is exactly who he thinks, but he hesitates. He reconsiders with a flick of an ear and a quick glance down to his hooves.
Too forward, he tells himself. Too eager.
With a shake of his head and neck – his metallic locks dance wildly – he takes a dragged step back and levels his eyes onto her own. ”My apologies. Um, my name is Castile.” Your grandfather, maybe, he doesn’t add.
castile
@[Dracarys]