07-17-2019, 12:36 PM
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
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
”Good,” he snarls, relieved that Mary will not find solace in the arms of his kin. He has already expressed his disapproval of the precarious situation Velk placed himself in by coupling with the Sylvan. It was in poor taste, but that isn’t enough to hide or forget the children borne of mischief and deceit. Castile wants to see them, his grandchildren, but he doesn’t yet demand that. His mind is still wrapping around her, memorizing every inch that his eyes drink in of her body and proud expression. Even now, with her crown and home ripped from her grasp, she is smug.
Part of him wants to be the reason she never smiles again.
Fire burns through his veins and dances within his gut, ready to explode forward, but with a heavy blink and glance away, Castile suppresses the primal urge. It lingers, of course, but is controlled.
When he finally looks at her again – it was only a few seconds of absentmindedly observing the trees – his broad head inclines and his shoulders ripple in a languid shrug. ”It wasn’t my doing, but I’m happy she was forced out of there in time.” He wanted her safe, but there wasn’t enough time to request of his allies to steal away his daughter. What they did was their own agenda. One day, he hopes, he will find Valdis again. In the meantime, he is pulled in every direction. Loess and its influence spreads each day, and he wants to stand on the frontline and address each obstacle that comes there way. So, why then, did he find Mary? She is a figment of Sylva’s past, but he knows that she will not melt into the shadows and disappear. Much to his dismay, she is too stubborn to cower.
Much to his dismay, she still poses an arrogant problem.
When he sees her and thinks of her, Sinner comes to mind. His daughter and sons come to mind. His grandchildren. Sochi.
A hmph unconsciously escapes when she confesses to finding refuge in the Resort. ”That was once mine, too,” he drawls with a disgruntled curl of his lip. Nothing of that place was a fond memory. It was immediately catastrophic. It was a mistake, but it eventually pushed him back to Loess where he quickly became King. Funny how the world works. ”You won’t be able to escape me, Mary, not entirely.” His voice freezes, turning cold and bitter as he edges closer with Sochi burning into his mind, reminding him. ”I could take you now. Break you; do as I please with you. I could wipe the smile from your face,” and there’s a spurring desire to, but when he breathes – his breath is of fire and brimstone – there is a subtle melting of his tone. ”But I am not like your dog. I don’t rape women like he does, and I will never stoop to his level.” He could never do it, no matter how angry or destructive he can be.
So, in place of putting her down and forcing her beneath him, Castile lunges to bite her neck with his jagged teeth that suddenly poke out from underneath his lips. He wants to taste her blood, to puncture and rip an area of her crest. It will be her lesson, her souvenir for having stepped into his way like the others. Like Sinner, like Solace, Krigare, and Sabra. ”That will be your small reminder,” he hisses once he has retracted with his lips stained scarlet, ”and I suggest you do not betray my trust again.” It will one day scar, the punctures and abrasions, and she will wear it proudly because that is simply who she is.
Part of him wants to be the reason she never smiles again.
Fire burns through his veins and dances within his gut, ready to explode forward, but with a heavy blink and glance away, Castile suppresses the primal urge. It lingers, of course, but is controlled.
When he finally looks at her again – it was only a few seconds of absentmindedly observing the trees – his broad head inclines and his shoulders ripple in a languid shrug. ”It wasn’t my doing, but I’m happy she was forced out of there in time.” He wanted her safe, but there wasn’t enough time to request of his allies to steal away his daughter. What they did was their own agenda. One day, he hopes, he will find Valdis again. In the meantime, he is pulled in every direction. Loess and its influence spreads each day, and he wants to stand on the frontline and address each obstacle that comes there way. So, why then, did he find Mary? She is a figment of Sylva’s past, but he knows that she will not melt into the shadows and disappear. Much to his dismay, she is too stubborn to cower.
Much to his dismay, she still poses an arrogant problem.
When he sees her and thinks of her, Sinner comes to mind. His daughter and sons come to mind. His grandchildren. Sochi.
A hmph unconsciously escapes when she confesses to finding refuge in the Resort. ”That was once mine, too,” he drawls with a disgruntled curl of his lip. Nothing of that place was a fond memory. It was immediately catastrophic. It was a mistake, but it eventually pushed him back to Loess where he quickly became King. Funny how the world works. ”You won’t be able to escape me, Mary, not entirely.” His voice freezes, turning cold and bitter as he edges closer with Sochi burning into his mind, reminding him. ”I could take you now. Break you; do as I please with you. I could wipe the smile from your face,” and there’s a spurring desire to, but when he breathes – his breath is of fire and brimstone – there is a subtle melting of his tone. ”But I am not like your dog. I don’t rape women like he does, and I will never stoop to his level.” He could never do it, no matter how angry or destructive he can be.
So, in place of putting her down and forcing her beneath him, Castile lunges to bite her neck with his jagged teeth that suddenly poke out from underneath his lips. He wants to taste her blood, to puncture and rip an area of her crest. It will be her lesson, her souvenir for having stepped into his way like the others. Like Sinner, like Solace, Krigare, and Sabra. ”That will be your small reminder,” he hisses once he has retracted with his lips stained scarlet, ”and I suggest you do not betray my trust again.” It will one day scar, the punctures and abrasions, and she will wear it proudly because that is simply who she is.
castile
@[Mary]
Right back at you lo lb. A novel. If you don't want her bitten, you can just ignore that last little bit
