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 sees Leilan traipse the mountains and weave down worn, perilous trails to Loess. He watches in silence, his body coiled restfully at the mouth of his family’s cavern in the jaded peaks. Without immediate need to approach, Castile merely grumbles and expels a puff of black smoke from his nostrils. It has been years since they’ve last crossed paths – back on Icicle Isle, perhaps? – and although he had intentions to visit, life had other ideas.
With each passing year, their tightly woven threads have stretched farther and farther apart. They are practically strangers now, but with enough history to remain cordial. Their last interaction had been when Castile was riddled with guilt and regret over Sabra. A single chuckle reverberates through him – has it really been so long? It seems like an entire lifetime ago.
For a long while, he waits and observes the frosted male – his scales dance like diamonds in the sunlight – descend only to be confronted none other than Lepis. An unbidden grin stretches across his lips, but before long, he is joining them after a brief flight down to lower ground. His shadow swallows them initially at his height before he steadily and nonchalantly spirals down. Midway, his body shrinks and returns to that of a horse so that by the time he alights, there are hooves instead of claws hitting the rocky turf.
”Now, now, no need for sassiness, Leilan,” his intense, metallic eyes bore into the male but they soften beneath his unruly forelock when they slip to Lepis, ”especially not toward a family member of mine.” No, it isn’t by blood. It was by choice, a tether that is oftentimes stronger. He nonetheless presses his muzzle to Lepis’ neck, a tender gesture that only his kin sees and experiences. When he breathes her in, he can nearly taste the coniferous trees of Taiga and the seasonal edging that Loess sometimes lacks. Withdrawing from her is slow, almost even reluctant because of the comforting familiarity, but he regards them both now with an amicable expression. ”Two visits at once. How am I so lucky?” A chuckle rolls from within him, a deep and rumbling sound that can almost be mistaken for a growl if not for the light-hearted question. ”But in all reality, what brings you, Leilan?” Considering the ties Loess possesses with Taiga (among other lands), there is an unspoken freedom to travel among each of the allied territories.
But the frosted drake (wannabe?) reeks of everything and nothing. Inclining his baroque head, he asks, ”Are you no longer in Icicle Isle?” He has already noted the strong hints of Hyaline on his skin.
With each passing year, their tightly woven threads have stretched farther and farther apart. They are practically strangers now, but with enough history to remain cordial. Their last interaction had been when Castile was riddled with guilt and regret over Sabra. A single chuckle reverberates through him – has it really been so long? It seems like an entire lifetime ago.
For a long while, he waits and observes the frosted male – his scales dance like diamonds in the sunlight – descend only to be confronted none other than Lepis. An unbidden grin stretches across his lips, but before long, he is joining them after a brief flight down to lower ground. His shadow swallows them initially at his height before he steadily and nonchalantly spirals down. Midway, his body shrinks and returns to that of a horse so that by the time he alights, there are hooves instead of claws hitting the rocky turf.
”Now, now, no need for sassiness, Leilan,” his intense, metallic eyes bore into the male but they soften beneath his unruly forelock when they slip to Lepis, ”especially not toward a family member of mine.” No, it isn’t by blood. It was by choice, a tether that is oftentimes stronger. He nonetheless presses his muzzle to Lepis’ neck, a tender gesture that only his kin sees and experiences. When he breathes her in, he can nearly taste the coniferous trees of Taiga and the seasonal edging that Loess sometimes lacks. Withdrawing from her is slow, almost even reluctant because of the comforting familiarity, but he regards them both now with an amicable expression. ”Two visits at once. How am I so lucky?” A chuckle rolls from within him, a deep and rumbling sound that can almost be mistaken for a growl if not for the light-hearted question. ”But in all reality, what brings you, Leilan?” Considering the ties Loess possesses with Taiga (among other lands), there is an unspoken freedom to travel among each of the allied territories.
But the frosted drake (wannabe?) reeks of everything and nothing. Inclining his baroque head, he asks, ”Are you no longer in Icicle Isle?” He has already noted the strong hints of Hyaline on his skin.
castile
@[Leilan] @[Lepis]