"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
02-04-2019, 10:14 AM (This post was last modified: 02-04-2019, 10:16 AM by 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
He has only been here a brief time, the proposition of a rank having lured him from the disaster on the Island.
Volatile, hungry, wild. There is no stopping him.
Fueled by what he is, and still considerably young, Castile dives into reckless behavior with eyes purposefully focused on the wealth and power he has never before had. Drunk on it, he pushes onward. Tiphon’s blood coated his lips and the crown that sat atop his head berthed something precarious within him. He wants – needs – more. General was what he had been initially offered, but then it escalated into something so much more, so much greater.
Another crown sits atop his head, but it isn’t enough to settle him just yet. The Resort still lingers at the edges of his thoughts, taunting him. A low growl reverberates through him, but with the crack of a nearby twig, Castile silences himself and looks toward the rocky hills. It has been years since he called Loess home, and the time had been brief as Lepis matured from a gangly child to a young adult. Yet here he is again. The landscape is easily enough recalled – he had memorized it those years ago – and he scales the knolls and rocky outcroppings until her face comes into view. They do not know each other, but her body reeks of both Loess and Vulgaris, and that is reason enough to find her.
”Tell me,” his voice crawls past his lips, nearly reptilian in nature as he takes his place in front of her, ”whose idea was it to stir some life back in Beqanna?” Seize the healers, he had eventually overheard from a conversation. It piqued his interest because already he dragged Tiphon into the embrace of Loess. He has already utilized the angel to help suppress the plague’s symptoms. His coughing has silenced and the fever has diminished. Strength returns to his bones, fire back into his soul.
Blinking, his eyes shifting back and forth between reptile and mammal, he grins. ”And do you still have that same ambition, even with a new King?”
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
Things had a habit of never going quite the way you planned, as she was learning.
Young and brash and a little reckless, she had not thoroughly considered all the avenues and possible outcomes of what it would mean to manipulate someone into seizing a crown. For instance, what to do when they decide not to do it anymore. The serpent king had seemed like such a viable option, but choosing to pass his title along to the dragon stallion had been a surprise that left a bitter taste in her mouth. She didn’t like to be surprised, especially not when it endangered the flimsy thread of control she had managed to gain.
The idea of leaving Loess had crossed her mind, but that sounded a lot like failure to her, and so, perhaps aided by a deeply rooted tenacity, she had decided to stay unless the new King told her otherwise. She assumes he would not be ignorant to her previous role, but she does not seek him out the way she has other new arrivals. If he was observant enough, he would know to find her — to either ask her to leave, or to stay.
When he comes before her, draconian and stoic, she meets him with her own analytical stare. He was older than her, and though Vulgaris had been as well — and was still so pliable within her hands— she can already tell that Castile would not be so easily subdued.
A different tactic, then, and luckily for her, fitting into roles was something she was accustomed to.
”I suppose you could say I planted some ideas in Vulgaris’ head,” and even though it is said nonchalantly, there is a curious uptilt of her lips, and perhaps a trace of satisfaction laced into the too-sweet sound of her voice. She always wondered if the snake-stallion would be irritated at taking advice from virtually a child, but it had been simple enough, and Starsin wasn’t one to pass up opportunity when it had been placed directly in front of her.
But there is a hint of surprise in her dark blue eyes at his last statement, as they hold fast to his ever changing own. He is different from Vulgaris; hungrier, with something more aggressive simmering beneath. That in itself intrigued her far more than anything, and she responds with a lilting laugh and a dip of her silver head,”That depends. Is the new King you?” Her star-studded body steps towards him, that same cavalier yet inquisitive simper perched on her steel-gray lips. ”I’m Starsin, by the way.”
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
”The mastermind then,” he croons deeply, sneering as colors vividly surface and ripple down his body, unbidden. Ideas chase one another through his mind when he observes and tries to determine where she will fit. She is analytical, somewhat even smug, as she confesses to him how easily she slid into Vulgaris’ grand schemes. Like the missing puzzle piece, Starsin found her place and savored the comfort of that seated power. Vulgaris seemingly devoured her words. Her words poured into him – mere ideas – and he brought them to fruition. An applauding thing, he pieces. She is conniving, adaptable… useful.
Although not quite as malleable as the snake king, Castile still poses a platform of opportunity. He blinks once, twice, and diverts his gaze to the surrounding hills as he quietly maps a future for Loess – for his personal family. It remains a veil of fog, indecipherable and uncertain – not yet decided or tangible. Mentally, he gropes for ideas, but when he pulls back his hands remain empty.
Perhaps, that is where Starsin comes in.
Perhaps, that is why he was drawn to meet her sooner rather than later.
The turn of his head to again look at her is slow and deliberate. A smug, lopsided grin – one that contests her own – lifts the corner of his mouth, and a single brow quirks. ”I am,” he confirms in a languid drawl, tasting it and weighing the metaphorical crown on his head. Once a Regent here, and now he returns a King. Funny how the world works. But even with his title, he cannot of course do it all alone. As his wings stretch and slowly reposition, he acknowledges her name and pins it securely to his mind before adding, ”and I’m Castile.” Straightening himself, he punctuates with a nod. ”Have you saved any ideas for me?”
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
She could not deny that she liked the ring of mastermind when spoken from his tongue. It caused her lips to quirk into an amused but pleased simper, her dark blue eyes glinting as she watches the change in colors flash across his skin. He was certainly proving to be interesting, this newly appointed dragon king. The sudden changing in crowns had been worrisome at first – anything that caught her by surprise she was not fond of – but there was nothing she loved more than a challenge. He had the potential to be one; perhaps not in the usual sense of what she typically took on, but adapting is what she was best at. He wouldn’t necessarily be something to control, but instead perhaps taking that energy that simmered beneath his skin and directing it towards something would be a worthwhile endeavor.
She wasn’t entirely sure what, yet, but she is sure it will come to her soon.
He is thinking of his family, though his thoughts are tangled and racing, difficult to follow because he doesn’t have a tangible grasp on them. But there is enough; his family is predatory, like him. The kinds you wanted on your side, rather than to be facing against. She toys with the beginnings of an idea, though she is distracted away from it when he offers his name. “Castile,” She echoes with her silvery tongue and cloying smile. “I always have ideas. But I need to get to know you a little better first.” Her star-studded body slides closer to him, her gaze sweeping appreciatively along the arch of his neck and the muscled slope of his shoulder. “What can you do, Castile? You are not entirely normal, I can feel that.” She reaches almost as if to touch her satin muzzle to the nape of his neck, close enough for the warmth of her breath to fan across his skin, but she withdraws, tilting her head to look up at him with an insidious simper, “I can read minds. That’s my little secret.”
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
Her smirk is a reassuring – rather, delighting – thing to see when he considers her the mastermind. In fact, Starsin appears to have been the puppeteer while Vulgaris the puppet. Loess was steering into the direction she wanted, but change hurled her off course. How much does it irritate her to see another man – one outside of her control – with the crown placed upon his brow? Surely, she doesn’t want the power and title thrusted onto her, but she wants influence – she still wants her name carved into the history books.
A shadowed grin upturns the edges of his mouth when she echoes his name, tasting it like it’s made of the finest wine. It tickles her lips. It lures her closer and he can nearly feel her fingers thumbing through his thoughts (it had happened once before, but the intrusion was violent, untamed). She is a far more delicate presence, but by no means faint. There is power and strength in the glittering of her eyes when they meet his. It isn’t the same as what he has – what he is. Starsin is the mind, Castile the brawn.
What can he do, she asks, and his muscles quiver with anticipation. There is so much that he can do, that he has done, but silence envelopes him as he creeps another step closer, willing her to touch him as she so nearly does. Her warm breath glides across his skin and stirs the creature that curls in his gut. His eyes narrow slightly, fleetingly, when she recoils and confesses her secret. An attribute, is what he considers her, but then wonders how many blocked minds she has encountered. His mother would be one. Are there other leaders – other chess pieces – in their world that can stump her? An amused rumble resonates through his body – somehow predatory even in its purr – as he remains unmoving from where she left him. ”Have you not yet read my mind to see what I am?” His head inclines, his gaze intensifies. ”Would it frighten you?” He doubts it. Castile has never striven to cast a shadow of fear, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t accepted what he is.
He has since learned to embrace his nature.
”What can I do?” He recalls while blinking and looking away toward the mountain range. Answers churn and he almost admits, point blank, what he can do, but then he takes pause and reconsiders. Looking at her again, he replies with a languid, nonchalant tone that complements his confession. ”I can kill without remorse,” he remembers Klaudius, ”I can bring life and havoc at once,” the Island Resort, ”and I can be a King and guardian.” Loess. Fatherhood.
lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
Ever since her encounter with the magician at the river, she has been cautious when encroaching into another’s mind. It had been the first time she was met with such a solidly closed door, and naively, she had realized it had never occurred to her before that moment that there would be those that could shut her out. It was all part of the learning process; she was still too young, with not enough worldly experience, but perhaps it was a good thing. It required a little more work, but she realised perhaps she didn’t always need to know all their secrets to pull their strings. Words and promises and lust would work just as well.
When she had peered into Castile’s mind, she had been pleased to see she did not encounter any sort of defenses. She had been even more pleased to witnesses the more predatory side of him, but there was something satisfying in feigning ignorance and inquiring about it out loud. When he calls her out, she can’t help but to laugh. “Yes, I did see, actually. I just thought I would be polite and ask you about it.” Did the idea of him being a dragon frighten her? Perhaps slightly. Not of him, per se, but just the notion of what he was capable of.
She would just have to be careful and stay on his good side, she supposes. Not always her strong suit.
She is quiet and attentive when he speaks of his qualities, and her dark blue eyes shimmer as they watch him. She liked that he was ruthless, but still had the finesse to be approachable and hold a conversation. “My, my, my. You’re really just a jack of all trades, aren’t you?” Something else simmers in the smile that still rests on her lips, a thoughtful shadow falling over her face for just a moment. “Loess is lucky to have you.” And for all her games and silvery words, there is something genuine that rings in that statement. He was a worthy King, at the very least.
“Your family. They must be dragons, too. Will they be joining us?” A kingdom of dragons, and healers? She couldn’t possibly resist that.
