11-20-2019, 11:41 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
It would be so easy to acquiesce and to shackle his wrists to her, all for the power to bring down his enemies. Just sign his life away, it seems, and so much more could become his. The temptation is delectably sweet, and his eyes gleam underneath the unruly state of his forelock. They – for it would be a partnership – could accomplish so much and he could force regret into the throats of those whom have betrayed him. So loyal has Castile been. So kind, so grateful, so willing. Friendships that he forged years ago, ones that he thought to be as sturdy as his iron will, have disintegrated in the blink of an eye. They’ve turned on him during Loess’ peaceful lull, and for what reason? Castile scours the options, but he finds none except Lepis. A greater more populated land, she described Taiga. Should it not take the helm as kingdom when the opposition is stagnant, poorly populated, and weak? He supported – still supports – his niece’s argument, and that, it seems, was the nail in his grave: his familial loyalty.
The rope-like muscles along his body contract and twist, prepared for something more in the heat of this mounting opportunity. His tongue slips across his lips thoughtfully, but he pauses in his musing to hear her simple statement.
There is a cost.
Of course there is. He could not expect anything less, and yet the admission still takes away his breath. Quickly, his eyes flash to meet hers, to search for a hidden purpose behind the windows to her soul. But she is stoic, calculative. Like a starving dog, he latches onto the meat of her proposition – empire, tear down your enemies – but wavers when she mentions how with gain, there is also loss.
Drawing in a breath, he weighs the options although they both seem to know which path of mayhem he will take. A small plume of black smoke rises from the flare of his nostrils, but his mind reels too feverishly for him to take notice. When he does finally speak, it’s slightly softer. ”My family,” he begins as his weight shifts to consider the possible outcomes, ”I want only for my family to remain safe. Can you at least promise me that?” His children, Sochi, Lepis, his parents and siblings. He wants all of them shielded from the looming chaos, but the hesitance rises in his throat. What if that is too much to ask for? Beating against his chest, Castile’s heart turns over its longing desires and hopes. It gives him pause when he was so close to diving into the offer without even a second thought.
He still wants it, nonetheless, but he remembers – more so with her reminder – that his decision will have a greater impact than only on himself.
An expansion of his lungs gives his whirling thoughts some air, subduing (only slight) the hunger roiling in his gut. ”You’ve tempted me, Straia,” but she already knows this by his actions, ”but what else is expected of me?” Will she take more from him than he can fathom – his soul, his identity, his crown? ”We’re equals,” he reaffirms, intent on maintaining the image they’ve already concocted with each other, ”I will not grovel or kiss your feet.” His voice rumbles with the low growl of a hidden creature inside him as it begins rising again to his needs and wants.
The rope-like muscles along his body contract and twist, prepared for something more in the heat of this mounting opportunity. His tongue slips across his lips thoughtfully, but he pauses in his musing to hear her simple statement.
There is a cost.
Of course there is. He could not expect anything less, and yet the admission still takes away his breath. Quickly, his eyes flash to meet hers, to search for a hidden purpose behind the windows to her soul. But she is stoic, calculative. Like a starving dog, he latches onto the meat of her proposition – empire, tear down your enemies – but wavers when she mentions how with gain, there is also loss.
Drawing in a breath, he weighs the options although they both seem to know which path of mayhem he will take. A small plume of black smoke rises from the flare of his nostrils, but his mind reels too feverishly for him to take notice. When he does finally speak, it’s slightly softer. ”My family,” he begins as his weight shifts to consider the possible outcomes, ”I want only for my family to remain safe. Can you at least promise me that?” His children, Sochi, Lepis, his parents and siblings. He wants all of them shielded from the looming chaos, but the hesitance rises in his throat. What if that is too much to ask for? Beating against his chest, Castile’s heart turns over its longing desires and hopes. It gives him pause when he was so close to diving into the offer without even a second thought.
He still wants it, nonetheless, but he remembers – more so with her reminder – that his decision will have a greater impact than only on himself.
An expansion of his lungs gives his whirling thoughts some air, subduing (only slight) the hunger roiling in his gut. ”You’ve tempted me, Straia,” but she already knows this by his actions, ”but what else is expected of me?” Will she take more from him than he can fathom – his soul, his identity, his crown? ”We’re equals,” he reaffirms, intent on maintaining the image they’ve already concocted with each other, ”I will not grovel or kiss your feet.” His voice rumbles with the low growl of a hidden creature inside him as it begins rising again to his needs and wants.
castile
@[Straia]