"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
05-24-2019, 11:31 AM (This post was last modified: 05-24-2019, 11:32 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 cannot resist the temptation to see her again, to pull the cords of her conscious and steer her from Solace and Kagerus’ vision. Her appearance in Tephra said a lot. It surprised him to draw in a breath and notice the undertones of her scent amid the smoke and mayhem. He could have found her, addressed her, but he only saw her in passing when he scooped Litotes into his embrace and sprinted toward the magician’s barrier. Leliana’s portals abducted each of them and hurled them into different places in order to conclude the madness that destroyed her home. Castile eluded the portals to grab his youngest sister and carry her home.
There has been minimal time to recover, but it doesn’t prevent Castile from making the short trip to Hyaline. Only his wings are draconic as he soars above the mountain peaks that separate their homes. Hyaline, as ever, brims with life especially with the return of their Queen from Tephra’s war.
Battered, bruised, and tired, Castile descends sluggishly close to the heart of the territory where the lake glistens diamond-like in the sunlight. Memories flash across the backs of his eyelids each time he blinks until he forces their suppression. Kensa, not far – perhaps soon concluding her loud announcement to the people – will have sighted him by now (not that he made an effort to conceal himself). Taking a sip from the lake, he waits patiently for her arrival while retracting his wings, exposing the lacerations across his sides and the dried blood and dirt accompanying them.
i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
She is not a woman who stands on ceremony. When she returned from the battlefield and told her people and those who would now remain with them what she expected for Hyaline she had done so on even ground. Eye to eye with those who would stand beside her keeping Beqanna awake and attentive.
Her borders are also open, though there is something to be said for being polite enough not to barge into someone’s house. Castile makes no effort to conceal his arrival and when she is finished speaking to the others, and after making sure her three children are soothed and unafraid she turns her attention to the dragon king.
Kensa has no visible wounds now, though she is stained by rusty blood and the mire of the battlefield. The last time she had met with Castile she had been lean and ill, a beautiful consumptive with her delicate rib cage showing under her pearls and lace. Now she is herself once more, soft and strong, dimensions expertly crafted to draw the eye. A sculpted aphrodite veined in gold with sharp gemstone eyes.
“Castile. Do tell me that I should see the other guy.” The Primarch says clearly, though all this talking has put an ache in her ribs. She doesn’t scold him for dropping in, he will have to expect her to do the same to him in the future. She reaches out to brush a chaste greeting over the king’s lips and then takes a drink herself. It is strange to be thirsty after traveling through these waters only a short time ago. Kensa breathes ripples across the clear surface, watching their reflections. “My daughter is in Loess, do you know if she is well?”
Lifting her head again to briefly regard the wounds that ooze along his sides, dirt ground into the angry flesh, he should be home resting or seeking healing. “What brings you here so quickly?” She cannot guess his motives but there is gentleness in the question all the same.
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
There is something to be said about Kensa. She is sultry with a tongue coated in honey, but her eyes are windows into a fierce soul that easily lures Castile into her company. Her light-hearted humor, despite the aches in his body, give life to a lopsided grin that softens the harsh lines of his face. It tugs gently against the lacerations, but the discomfort does little to prevent him from responding lightheartedly. ”The other one doesn’t live anymore,” he confesses, but it wasn’t because of the draconic battle. There was another power, another burst of anger nearby, that shattered the opposing dragon and stripped her from existence.
Her touch is electric. There’s a fleeting moment to which his heart tumbles with the unexpected gesture before she drinks her own fill of the chilled water. Castile’s eyes follow her, blinking slowly while she gulps, before she levels on him again. ”No one has admitted relation to you,” he admits with a roll of his broad shoulders, ”Who is your daughter?” Their previous encounters would warrant great care for the girl, but the tides can easily shift.
The world is changing. The years of peaceful silence are ending as Loess lifts the sleeping kingdoms from their beds. Friends and enemies are pushing and pulling each other all while Loess bristles in excited anticipation. First, it was Tephra. Half the kingdom is still trying to recover after being torched, destroyed, then flooded by rolling lava. Much to Leliana’s dismay, however, Loess doesn’t plan to stop there. With a curious inclination of his head, Castile regards Kensa with curiosity. ”Because things are happening,” he begins, ”and I’m curious where Hyaline will stand in it all. I’m curious where and how you plan to lead it.” There’s no sense ending on a cliffhanger, to force her hand into begging for more information.
Like a silver platter, he offers it. Unashamed, unafraid.
”Sylva is next. They will pay for their betrayal.” Everyone involved in the war openly saw the leaders stand against their kingdom and take the side of Tephra. It was only a matter of time, really, but Castile has conflicted feelings about the matter. Amused versus angry. With a mischievous smile, he resumes. ”Word of mouth is that no one truly lives there except Sinner and Mary. It has become more of a waste of space and an easy target.” More facts, more information to feed Kensa’s curious mind as to why this will happen, why it must happen. ”All I want to know is where Hyaline will stand. If you are not with us, then I ask you to turn a blind eye. Sinner and I will be fighting very soon… Win or lose, Sylva will be dealt with accordingly.”
07-05-2019, 05:34 PM (This post was last modified: 07-05-2019, 05:34 PM by Kensa.)
i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
His smile is rakish even if pained and she cannot help the fondness that softens her calm expression into amusement. Even when he answers her jest, her ears only flick slightly at hearing that his opponent is dead. She should perhaps express disgust at the waste she saw upon that bloody field of battle, but she is not a girl anymore. Instead she quiets her mind to focus on the effortless connection she feels with the tobiano stallion, a carefully concealed cord of tension that she is tempted to tug on as water rolls off her lower lip.
“No, she would not.” The Primarch rejoins after Castile states he is not aware of a child of hers dwelling within his borders. “My eldest, Brunhilde. She is the color of flame. She leaves off the butterflies or the tongues of fire the girl can summon because her appearance itself is memorable enough. It is no wound on a mother’s pride that Castile would not be aware of their relation, the girl still harbors her anger and most of them don’t go around naming who their parents are as if attempting to skate on the accomplishments of fore-bearers.
They move on to the business of the visit and the gilded mustang wears a calm and open face as Castile watches her for the micro-expressions that might give away her leanings. “I would like to see us friends, Castile. Yet you think I would stand against you as you deal with traitors?” This she says gently, inclining her head just so and then laughing in mockery of herself. The punishment of traitors being exactly what she had intervened on between Dawn and Litotes. “No I will not involve myself. Not in this.” The Sylvan rebellion, if it can be called that at all, seems more about opportunity than aiding Leliana. She sees no need to turn her small power toward that situation. Kensa shifts a bit closer, to make it clear she does not oppose his actions even as she rebuffs his request that she ignore his moving against Sinner. “I will not be turning a blind eye to anything, Hyaline does not look away any more.” In this the gold veined woman is firm. Castile and others may have hoped to see the Sanctuary crumble and it has but what grows up in its place belongs only to the woman who now holds these mountains between her teeth. “I do not lead a sanctuary. That is a word I hear abused too often. I do not know how to describe what I plan...other than to say that a little spider crawling amongst the bedding will not harm much but keeps even the laziest from an easy sleep.” A smile, dark lashes drifting down over her topaz eyes as if to demure. Looking back at the dragon her words are weighted by their honesty, following the conversation back to Castile’s own plans. There is not another way, these two men will come to blows and there will be suffering to follow it. “I understand that you need to act.” Kensa reaches out to press her muzzle to the overly warm skin of his neck, the lingering of her touch easy to blame on weariness. ”Don’t lose, 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 could take her now, hold her. There would be minimal resistance, if any at all, based on the way she looks up at him. Blanketed by the sunlight, her eyes are alive and vibrant as they level on one another, their bodies melting comfortably closer as the seconds leak into minutes. ”I’ll keep an eye on her,” he murmurs while registering to memory her daughter’s name and appearance. It won’t be difficult to find her, especially if her personality mirrors her mother’s.
But Castile hardly dwells on the topic of children. There are more pressing, more interesting, matters that harbor his curiosity. A head tilt, a lifted brow, and a synopsis of what is to come. Sylva will fall, he assures her while making no assumption as to where she and Hyaline will be. As much as he anticipates Kensa’s neutrality, he patiently waits until she confesses her stance. ”Good,” in truth, he doesn’t need extra resources or support to bring down Sinner. It should, hopefully, be an easy win over the dog.
But friends can always be beneficial.
”You have poor taste in friends if that’s your goal with me,” he smiles then, a short laughter gruffly escaping him, ”Haven’t you heard what a monster I am?” Reputations bleed through the community and poison the minds of strangers. They’ve confessed judgment based on the woeful cries of victims. At first, it bothered him. It ate away Castile’s conscious until he was a shell of his former self. He can recall his confessions and agony and regret to Ilma. He can still see the scars on Sabra and Solace. He can still see Klaudius’ corpse lying at his feet, mauled and burned.
It took years, but Castile has rebuilt himself and has helped forge an empire. They are not beneath him. The power behind Loess is a bridging connection of friends. Their effort has lifted him from the abysmal labyrinth of his mind, and so he tries to embrace the possibility of another friendship. It can benefit Loess, but it’s also a connection that lustfully allures him. Castile doesn’t turn away the prospect, but instead inches closer until his warm breath can reach the arch of her neck. ”I feel like you’d prefer to be more than friends,” his husky voice permeates the air between them as he hover his lips above her skin for a heartbeat before slowly retracting, ”especially with the direction you are leading Hyaline.” Somehow, perhaps indirectly, Castile succeeded in disrupting the monumental Sanctuary. The small empire that Solace and Kagerus built has successfully crumbled.
They gravitate to one another, her lips pressing into his own hot skin as she gives him one request, one order. Don’t lose, Castile. A mischievous gleam finds his mismatched eyes when he hears her voice caress his ears and how his name easily rolls from her tongue. ”I don’t plan to,” he whispers in return, their conversation steering down a path he never intended, not when Sochi is so precious to him. ”I will simply have to find use for a dark, uninhabited forest.” And then he leans against her, unable to resist any longer. Electricity pours through his veins, but he does nothing more, simply keeping himself longingly pressed to her, wondering all the reasons Litotes chose her.
i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
“I tend to enjoy the company of monsters. It’s one of the few failings of my character.” There is just enough seriousness in this reply to acknowledge the truth that it happens to be. Still she lets a smile flicker across her mouth, willing to jest in the face of another truth. Kensa has heard of his atrocities, but she knows only this man this dragon-king and will judge him according to how he treats her family, her people, and herself.
Of course she is still cautious. Especially because her opinion could easily be altered by the delicious tension that has flared to life between them. His words land warm over the crest of her neck. She does enjoy the particular heat that radiates off the Loessian king, wonders how it might amplify if she should she entice him into an even more pleasant visit. Of all the mistakes she might be making with Castile though, that would likely be the most fraught. She has not yet considered the complications she might create by making lovers out of leaders that she should treat with only diplomacy and the occasional bit of pestering. Now the subject seems unavoidable, and she wonders if her considerable will can be turned toward resisting indulging herself (she rarely bothers to deny herself any diversion). “Perhaps.” The Primarch chirps pleasantly, keeping to politics even while indulging the suggestion. “If you don’t mind the occasional bit of entertainment at your own expense. Even my more-than-friends will occasionally be called upon to amuse Hyaline.” A flash of topaz eyes, merry. “I’m sure you would understand.” Flirtation sweetens her words all the more. She again makes no threats, she is not in the business of war, only a few games, only a little disruption.
Kensa takes liberties that others would not have in moving close and murmuring Castile’s name in a voice she should perhaps not use with him. Not when the air between them seems to thin so rapidly. Her heart thunders when Castile leans into her, and though they only press close there is a danger so alive that Kensa’s stomach sinks and the breath disappears from her lungs and she should stop letting him touch her but she cannot. “I might have some suggestions once you secure said dark, empty forest.” She ought to shut up, and does, but only after exhaling in a shuddering way. When she breathes in again, slow and careful, it is a breath full of the scent of him and a smile steadies itself onto her lips. She cannot resist looking up at Castile through her dark lashes.“There are some things best left undone. Some pleasures that exist only in the space between things.” A whisper, if anyone were looking they would perhaps see only two leaders keeping a close confidence. Kensa does not reject the attraction, but she too maintains only the press of his skin against her own, savoring muscle and bone fit neatly against supple gold etched curves.
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
”Then you’re in luck,” he croons with a lopsided, boyish grin. He is a monster above all else, but his fiery temper can now be harnessed when deemed appropriate. At one point in time, years ago, the creature lurking within him reigned. It took control more often than not and oftentimes, Castile would drown beneath thoughts that didn’t belong to him. Fortunately, Kensa did not see him so vulnerable. She was spared from his ravenous hunger and deplorable attitude. Others, like Solace and Sabra, weren’t quite so lucky.
But while others tried to steer him from the darkness – and he cannot blame them for doing so – there were others that advised to embrace it, to accept what he was. Blinking, Castile makes a quiet assumption that Kensa would have been one of them. She would have poked and prodded to see what he could be, to watch him reach his potential. Almost like Sochi.
Perhaps in another time, in another life, he would have taken Kensa underneath him and created a dangerous legacy. Fire and gasoline combined together would create something explosive. It, truthfully, crosses his mind as she peers up at him with tender, playful eyes. It would be an indulgence, a tempting delicacy, but Castile forces himself to look away even as he drinks another lungful of her scent. Their coupling would be dangerous, a tumultuous and regrettable decision led by sinful lust. Kensa must realize this, too, as they find comfort in merely touching. Their muscles and skin glide together like silk, but neither push for more. He cannot help to think of Litotes, whose scent still readily mingles with her own. To betray him would be against Castile’s own conscience. Licking his lips thoughtfully, he nods in agreement before leaning his mouth against her neck. ”I do not know Hyaline’s other ties, but if it isn’t too stretched thin, a friendship could certainly be in order,” his voice is husky as he trails up toward her poll, ”I would hate to make you feel so conflicted.”
Reluctantly, Castile pulls away. Air slips between them again and it feels like ice where Kensa’s heat was originally. His head inclines and his eyes gleam playfully at her. ”Feel free to visit Loess with your decision,” because as the heat increases between them, he wants to only let her cool and consider the options. As he slips away, Castile’s wings fan out. A final glance over his shoulder locks his mismatched eyes with hers. ”I hope to see you soon, Kensa,” and with a downbeat of his wings, he is airborne and returning to Loess, his scent riddled teasingly with her own.
