07-26-2019, 02:07 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
He doesn’t want to let her go, not when she truly melts into him and succumbs for the first time to what they are. Emotions flaring between them are nearly tangible as Sochi’s lips trace along the curve of his shoulder and Castile’s head softly presses to her in return. Time suddenly freezes and they are the only ones in the abandoned forest. Suddenly, this is their home, their entire world.
Pressed against Sochi, his eyes drift shut and his mind plays fantasies – or is it their future? – of a quieter lifestyle with all their children wandering within earshot. Each of them has a dazzling splash of blue, like their mother. They are smiling and laughing while others are hunting. Their joy vibrates through the trees and brings life to a place that has only known a somber darkness. Then there is Castile, hugging Sochi as he is now, watching the family they’ve created. He is happy. His heart is full.
A deep breath sighs into her skin as Castile’s eyes slowly open again to look at her, brightening with adoration as they trace the edges of her face. A soft kiss presses to the curve of her jaw. ”I wish I could have prevented this,” had he been more vigilant then maybe, just maybe, Sochi would not have become a prisoner. It’s moot for the guilt to shadow him. In the snap of a finger, everything is done. There is no going back, no way to stop what has already happened. Yet it still hurts. His heart clenches when he inhales and still tastes Sinner, but he buries his face into Sochi’s mane before she can see the storm clouds brewing in his eyes.
”Of course I did,” he gruffly mutters back as he composes himself enough to hold her fierce gaze. ”I want to kill him for what he did to you,” but the hellhound is elusive and their match has long since ended. If only Castile knew beforehand. There would have been no mercy. A promise flirts with the edges of his lips, but he never utters the words as he watches tears rim the corners of Sochi’s eyes. Before he can say anything, her cheek is against him. Her breathing falters – a fleeting response, but he notes it nonetheless – as she tries to bury the sense of vulnerability into his skin. ”Sochi,” his voice is so tender when he whispers her name, ”it’s okay.” But is it really? The weight of the situation breaks her down and chisels away at her stoic, predatory facade. It’s beating down her wall and stabbing into the warm heart that she has spent her entire life protecting. ”You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to,” had this been years ago, his anger would have piqued and he would have outright refused the child, but life’s experiences have softened him.
Somehow, life prepared him for Sochi.
With a deep breath, Castile slowly pulls away. Immediately, he is exposed and chilled without her leaning against his side. An incline of his head points toward the direction of Loess, but his eyes remain locked on Sochi. ”Come, let’s go home.” He returns to her and prepares to finally leave all of this behind.
Pressed against Sochi, his eyes drift shut and his mind plays fantasies – or is it their future? – of a quieter lifestyle with all their children wandering within earshot. Each of them has a dazzling splash of blue, like their mother. They are smiling and laughing while others are hunting. Their joy vibrates through the trees and brings life to a place that has only known a somber darkness. Then there is Castile, hugging Sochi as he is now, watching the family they’ve created. He is happy. His heart is full.
A deep breath sighs into her skin as Castile’s eyes slowly open again to look at her, brightening with adoration as they trace the edges of her face. A soft kiss presses to the curve of her jaw. ”I wish I could have prevented this,” had he been more vigilant then maybe, just maybe, Sochi would not have become a prisoner. It’s moot for the guilt to shadow him. In the snap of a finger, everything is done. There is no going back, no way to stop what has already happened. Yet it still hurts. His heart clenches when he inhales and still tastes Sinner, but he buries his face into Sochi’s mane before she can see the storm clouds brewing in his eyes.
”Of course I did,” he gruffly mutters back as he composes himself enough to hold her fierce gaze. ”I want to kill him for what he did to you,” but the hellhound is elusive and their match has long since ended. If only Castile knew beforehand. There would have been no mercy. A promise flirts with the edges of his lips, but he never utters the words as he watches tears rim the corners of Sochi’s eyes. Before he can say anything, her cheek is against him. Her breathing falters – a fleeting response, but he notes it nonetheless – as she tries to bury the sense of vulnerability into his skin. ”Sochi,” his voice is so tender when he whispers her name, ”it’s okay.” But is it really? The weight of the situation breaks her down and chisels away at her stoic, predatory facade. It’s beating down her wall and stabbing into the warm heart that she has spent her entire life protecting. ”You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to,” had this been years ago, his anger would have piqued and he would have outright refused the child, but life’s experiences have softened him.
Somehow, life prepared him for Sochi.
With a deep breath, Castile slowly pulls away. Immediately, he is exposed and chilled without her leaning against his side. An incline of his head points toward the direction of Loess, but his eyes remain locked on Sochi. ”Come, let’s go home.” He returns to her and prepares to finally leave all of this behind.
castile
@[sochi]