"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
The crown she bears, inherited from her mother, is heavier than she had anticipated. Nayl had done it all so calmly with the curl of a smirk and acid on her tongue. Isobell can feel how the responsibility s changing her though it is not for the worse. The young mare had experienced much in the last year. She had become a woman, a kelpie, a queen. Her silver eyes slide down her breast to see how she has filled out into a woman's shape, the scales hardening to a protective sheen like chainmail across her body. It is undetermined if it was all a gift or curse...it was still a mystery how she had drowned then been reborn this.
The woman looks over the river and wonders if the painted stallion is watching her from beneath its murky depths. She had left him in the ocean with promises to return to Loesss but as he drifted away like seafoam, Nerine and the crown ship had buried its roots deep into her spine. She could would not walk away so easily but the draw of the water has led her to the place of her drowning. She heaves a sigh softly as she slips her hooves into the cool spring waters. It feels like Ivar and the way he has coiled around her nerves, imbedded in her fibers. A twist of distaste spoils her lips only momentarily before she relaxes and eases her body into the waters, washing away the salt and grime she has carried from Nerine.
The river is peacefully quiet and here she can dip into the waters to unsoil her skin. The mare wonders what or who may lurk along the waters edges, who's prying eyes watch her move with small parting waves. She does not care not does the idea deter her. Isobell looks over a single pale shoulder at the sound of rustling. Perhaps there were boogie men out there after all. She stands still as she rests with the water at her chest, her tail fanning out in the water beside her, silver eyes watching for movements at the tree line.
He is here again, hardly ever leaving. With the waning of winter comes the sprouting blossoms of spring. The solemnity of the river with its gray clouds and turbulent whitecaps traveling downstream has since diminished and calmed. Slowly, the grass breaches from the soil and the warmth of the sun plays like a child’s fingers down Castile’s back. His mind still reels, but his gaze is steadily focused on the riverbed that always seems to call his name. Oftentimes, he wonders what roots him to the steadfast river, but then with a shrug the thought slowly passes. There is Loess to return to, and yet, he struggles to muster the motivation to go home and rest his head. The river is where he can still breathe in the honeyed scent of Solace and the spice of Ciri; it’s his house of memories.
A lackadaisical yawn unhinges his jaws for a long moment, his eyes shutting beneath his unruly forelock. Another nap concludes with a grunt and lasting stretch, his wings extending out before coiling delicately back against his sides. The whir of life around him is typical; he often lets the world pass him by while he relaxes in solitude. Today would have been no different had he not glimpsed Isobell nearby. A long hesitation tethers him to his solitude as his mismatched eyes slide across the slenderness of her body, noting the changes that practically scream at him. Only weeks ago he had pressed his cheek against her and felt the familiar coat of hair that held remnants of Nerine’s sandy shores. Now, however, scales catch the sunlight with a foreign sheen that startles Castile more awake. A brow lifts and his lips crease into a confused frown.
The underlying predator in his soul makes his approach hushed as he seemingly glides across the grass until he is behind her. He blinks – slit pupils – then again – normal – as he drinks in the sight of her. A heavy breath pours from his nostrils first followed by the deepening gruff of his voice. ”What happened to you?” He doesn’t coddle her or wrap himself around her, doesn’t rest sweet kisses on her neck. His heart is leaping, his mind reeling. The unbidden worry for his sibling paints itself on his face as he still tries to digest this new image of her. Suddenly, the innocence of his sister has dissipated to be replaced by an adult that boasts even greater beauty and finesse.
But how?
”Isobell,” he says her name as though questioning whether it’s truly her, or if he has somehow mistaken his own sibling, but he can smell her. Nerine is still on her coat – no, scales – but so is someone all too familiar. Castile presses closer to her, his brows furrowing as he tries to piece everything together. ”You look like Ivar,” he whispers before increasing the volume of his voice, ”Did he do this to you?” The rhythm of his heart waltzes across his ribs as his stomach churns uncertainly.
i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
Castile was not expected to be at the River.
The young mare had gone haphazardly in an attempt to escape Nerine for a moment, to potentially see the familiar face of the kelpie under the waves but instead it had been only her reflection. She is not sure why she has even left the confines of Nerine but the River was in her dreams and was powerless to go.
The sound of his voice startles her. The silver eyes of ehr father are peering from the tuft of dark forelock to rest upon the larger shape of her sibling. Isobell feels a wretch in her gut to witness the way his handsome features are dipping and curving with confusion and question. "Castile-" Isobell turns away from the water and the depths to go to him, her own face furrowing with it complication of small smooth scales. She wants to reach for him but she hesitates when he doesn't meet her in the embrace.
She has forgotten who what she has become. Should she be ashamed? Are her sins prevalent across her skin? Of course they are and her brother, the one who cares the most, watches as she wears the marring like a carved scar in tender skin.
His eyes shift and she feels a ripple of fear as his voice begins to rise. He begins to question, undoubtedly the scent of Ivar on her skin, as to the change and the source. Isobell looks away as though the answer were written on the horizon and she can feel a threat of hot tears though the mare would not allow them to spill. There was the telltale scars upon her whither from the fateful day of her drowning, former lacerations from his fangs that are now healed.
The pied mare returns her mercury gaze to the mismatch of ehr brother's before nodding slightly. There was deep magic in the water that had turned her kelpie but she does not want to go into detail on the day Ivar had chosen her and willed his desire. A dull guilt lies just beyond her own surface as she wonders if it was she who had lead Ivar to his decision.
"Castile, sweet brother, it's okay..." Her voice is soft as she moves closer to her sibling. She reaches for him, wanting to feel the same comfort of his weight and the gentle words against her poll. Much had changed in the past season and she quietly yearns for the familiarity of something normal. "I can't explain it." It is all she can offer but the kelpie is blatant across her skin as her small scales shine like moon stone and glassy black onyx. Isobell fears Castile will reject her, think her marked and soiled, but still she tries to reach for him to embrace him.
...Perhaps she should have stayed away longer, perhaps she should have stayed in Nerine.
It’s fear that punctures the scaled armor around his heart. It’s the worry of losing his sister, of her being a monster much like himself, which seeps into the expression on his face. Where there was a silken coat of hair there are now smooth scales, much unlike his own. He wants to touch her, to hold him, but his gut wrenches as he continues to drink in the scent of Ivar. For minutes – oh, how it feels like hours – Castile is spiraling into a trance with his eyes continuing to thirstily drink the sight of Isobell. Anger doesn’t fuel him; it is a miracle he doesn’t notice the healing abrasions and lacerations near his sister’s withers otherwise their conversation would conclude as quickly as a friendship that has survived the years. Almost unblinking, unmoving…
Her voice, the beautiful thing it is, hooks and drags him from the darkening of his mind. It captures him and holds his attention steadily as their eyes meet. The panting of his breaths eases and slows, the threatening ripples of scales and teeth dissolves, and he slumps. ”Isobell,” he mutters again as they face each other, searching one another for questions and answers to them. The delicacy to how she speaks reassures him that she is not gone, that his sister is still in the heart and soul of the kelpie. This isn’t a monster in front of him.
But he can see how he has distressed her and chiseled at her own confidence. She casts her eyes down and she breathes in only to admit that she cannot explain. There is a story to this, one in which he will eventually piece together, but he focuses on her now. Inching closer, his heart settling in his chest, Castile accepts her touch then acquiesces to a loving embrace. A single wing – intentionally manipulated to always be that of a dragon’s – cascades across her and holds her against his barrel. ”Did he hurt you?” It’s the first question that he can muster the strength to ask although his mind reels with so many others. His cheek then presses to her neck, his eyelids drifting shut for a few heartbeats. ”As long as you’re okay,” he whispers into her scales, his lips damp when pulling away, ”I cannot – will not – let any harm come to you.” His eyes open to see the glisten of this new beauty of hers, fascinated but simultaneously concerned. ”I love you, my sweet sister.”
i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
She wonders if he is ashamed of her now. Was she a tarnished mark upon his life? An embarrassment or potentially a punctuation to a lifeline? Isobell can not change what Ivar had made her into.
He had chosen her, taken her, drowned her beneath the waves but she arose under the white cap of water and was reborn.
Baptized by sea water and sand.
Her heart is breaking. She has hurt her brother with her sheer existence and she can feel a hotness welling up in her eyes. He is is the only once she could ever shower her weakness too but she is painfully exposed. She feels ugly in this skin but it is only when he embraces her that she is turning to him to smother her tears against his skin and hide away from the world.
She was still the little girl when she is in his embrace.
Isobell can barely hear his words over the sound of their heartbeats meddling together. Isobell does not want to answer his question for he had hurt her. He had hurt her in so many ways so she instead she remains quiet, rubbing her face slowly against his skin. "I love you too, Castile." Isobell speaks his name softly, whispering against his skin, threatening to lose herself in the protective warmth. She does not have to be a queen to him. She does not have to be strong. He is her brother and he cares for her purely. "Will you still go to Loess?" She asks him now, pulling away only enough to meet his mismatched gaze. Isobell is afraid to talk anymore of Ivar for fear it could ruin something between the stallions but she would never lie to her sibling and if he asked again then she would tell him of the day she drowned.
Ask her again, he muses. Make her answer, make her admit to what happened. There is more to the story than she is letting on. She, his sweet sister, is keeping secrets from him; the accusation lies unbidden in his mind, dormant, festering, and never leaving his mouth.
Don’t force her.
She’s still trying to swallow the events, trying to grasp the changes that have overcome her body.
Castile’s mouth opens to push her, but he shuts it quickly to instead savor their loving embrace. His breath evens, his heart eases its heated sprint, and his muscles unwind as her body heat radiates through him. The sweetness of her voice is a thick balm across his uncertainty, taking his mind off her outward changes for the moment. Even as his eyes trace along the edges of her face, he doesn’t ask further. The children of Nayl and Lior are of the sea and sky, of water and fire. The more he considers it, the more enthralling it is.
”Loess,” he murmurs into the arch of her neck and while his voice seems convinced, his mind brews with uncertainty. His weight shifts from one side to the other, his wings shuffle idly until comfort finds him at last. ”Unless there is something you wish from me, Queen Isobell.” The smile that creeps along the line of his lips is brimming with amusement, but also pride. He knows he should return to Loess, perhaps pursue a role as a General, but he can’t help but wonder whether he and Isobell would be more powerful united than separated.
i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
She can only smile up at her sweet brother. He had been her only friend for so long and he was truly the only one she ever trusted. She rests her head against him gently, sighing contently, the steady drum of his heart lulling her quietly. She is grateful that he does ot push her.
"I miss you, Castile. I miss you at home. Mother and father are off and gone and I get so lonely..." She frowns slightly. She had hoped he would say he would return to Nerine but she would never asks him to if his heart did not want it. "I mean, I would love to have you there..." She looks up with a smirk. Just because she does not ask him to return does not mean she couldn't insinuate.
"I may need your help." Isobell had been thinking of Ivar lately thought it was almost unwilling. Isobell sighs slowly again. She felt a need to visit Loess but was not sure of it's nature.Something was nudging her to and she was hoping to ask her brother to step in for her while she paid her visit...
Perhaps it would not be too much to ask? The painted woman chews her lip as her eyes cloud. She was scared to ask her sibling for such a request but was not sure whom else she could trust to look after Nerine.
