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
For the first time in over fifteen years, there is disruption between Castile and Lepis. It aggravates him, but he has nothing more to lose, not anymore. Everything slips through his fingers, but he realizes that much of it is his own fault. Everything crashed in his final weeks – months? – as a king, and that is what everyone remembers. That is what everyone funnels their energy and opinions on.
He is quiet except for the scoff that punctuates Lepis’ frigid statement. ”I’ll see my way out then,” a crude ad mocking bow dips his forehand toward the ground. There is nothing more to say or do now. A smug, unapologetic grin lopsidedly curves his mouth before he takes flight. The shackles Loess has clapped around his ankles years ago disintegrate. The sense of obligatory entrapment subsides in his agitation when he looks at her one last time.
Not forever, he tries to tell himself. Nothing ever lasts forever.
With a huff of black smoke, Castile takes to the skies, disappearing into the horizon.
castile