07-16-2019, 03:35 PM
Time. Castile provided them both time to process before pursuing Mary, his curiosity guiding his steps toward her instead of Sinner. There is nothing more to be addressed between the two males. But the fallen Queen? There is more to her than meets the eye and her scent has coated his family like a weighted blanket. Every corner of his family seem to have crossed her path. But why?
While he anticipates her departure to be graceful and elegant, Castile heavily lumbers through the forests. Trees force his path to wind and twist, their branches groping blindly for his hot, summer-like skin. Fire burns in his veins, boiling his blood, and crackles in his mismatched eyes as they dart among the web of forest to finally find her.
The coniferous trees tower overhead to great heights that he spares a single glance toward before sharpening his attention on her. What boisterous footsteps led him here have since quieted as he takes the briefest of pauses to scrutinize every curve and every lock of hair. Their last meeting – in Loess, if he excludes their fleeting moments in the war – had been facetious. There was little to look at when she hugged Sinner so tightly and spat diplomacies down like it was soured food. In that time, Castile noted only her unscarred stature. She isn’t a fighter. Now, however, he tediously observes her until closing the space between them. They aren’t within reach; no, he dare not meddle with an enemy like that. He wants only to understand her, to understand her motives and plans.
Castile’s mouth opens to comment on her quick departure from Sylva, but he reconsiders and instead simply asks, ”Where will you go now?” Surely, there is a backup plan that she considered if the tide went against her wishes. ”I know you have connections,” his rumbling voice reverberates through his own bones as the words roll from his chest. Stepping around her, stalking, he searches for what he wants – confirmation – then draws to another halt. ”It won’t be with my sons, I hope, and I imagine you’ve run Valdis off already.” He doesn’t elaborate, knowing that his coat still desperately clings to remnants of Velk. Raul’s and Santana’s have long since faded with the seasons.
@[Mary]
While he anticipates her departure to be graceful and elegant, Castile heavily lumbers through the forests. Trees force his path to wind and twist, their branches groping blindly for his hot, summer-like skin. Fire burns in his veins, boiling his blood, and crackles in his mismatched eyes as they dart among the web of forest to finally find her.
The coniferous trees tower overhead to great heights that he spares a single glance toward before sharpening his attention on her. What boisterous footsteps led him here have since quieted as he takes the briefest of pauses to scrutinize every curve and every lock of hair. Their last meeting – in Loess, if he excludes their fleeting moments in the war – had been facetious. There was little to look at when she hugged Sinner so tightly and spat diplomacies down like it was soured food. In that time, Castile noted only her unscarred stature. She isn’t a fighter. Now, however, he tediously observes her until closing the space between them. They aren’t within reach; no, he dare not meddle with an enemy like that. He wants only to understand her, to understand her motives and plans.
Castile’s mouth opens to comment on her quick departure from Sylva, but he reconsiders and instead simply asks, ”Where will you go now?” Surely, there is a backup plan that she considered if the tide went against her wishes. ”I know you have connections,” his rumbling voice reverberates through his own bones as the words roll from his chest. Stepping around her, stalking, he searches for what he wants – confirmation – then draws to another halt. ”It won’t be with my sons, I hope, and I imagine you’ve run Valdis off already.” He doesn’t elaborate, knowing that his coat still desperately clings to remnants of Velk. Raul’s and Santana’s have long since faded with the seasons.
@[Mary]