Lepis;

[Castile]

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

Even as neighboring lands, it still takes hours until the openness of Loess closes and confines into the dense forestry of Taiga. Reia has been here, he notes with a deep inhalation, but he doesn’t search for his wild daughter or the reasons her scent is so potent. Instead, his reasons are more political, but with a hint of familial.
 
He weaves through the intricate web of trees and occasionally takes pause to scratch himself against the scabbed tree trunks. Grounded, he cannot help to peer through the canopy and yearn for the skies again, for the heat of fire in his gut and soul. Heat doesn’t radiate from him as it once did. A chill races through him, his skin cool from the frigid gusts that kiss him even in the forest. Castile’s jaw clenches unhappily, but he forges on and pursues Lepis’ familiar scent.
 
Only when he reaches her does he stop. Small snowflakes begin to fall and grip onto his coat (they do not melt like they had once, he muses unhappily). As winter uncomfortably embraces him, Castile’s eyes level onto those of his niece. ”Lepis,” he murmurs coolly, neither angry or happy. His thoughts reel feverishly before he is able to look briefly past her toward the north. Only then does a crooked smile tip his mouth and his eyes glimmer. ”I take it Heartfire didn’t like your idea. She came to Loess with Litotes and Vulgaris. It appeared she was perhaps too afraid to face me alone,” he wants to laugh, to reveal the amusement that blooms in his chest, but the urge is overwhelmed by the anger of having seen his friends so easily turn against him.

castile