07-17-2019, 01:36 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
Ilma is almost a shadow of herself. Almost. She still smiles up at him and her eyes are bright until his question causes them to flicker and dim. It’s a difficult thing to answer, just as it is to ask, but he wants – no, needs – to know where she has been and why. Truthfully, it was strange to not see her amid the chaos, standing tall and bright in defiance of his actions. Oddly enough, she is the one to keep him fairly grounded no matter how much he loathes it some days. He tested her patience and loyalty as he toyed with his own, but while anger brewed within her, Castile only laughed. She is the peace to his war, the calm to his anger. It never occurred to him how pinnacle she is in his life, how important she was until she was gone.
It hurt, but he doesn’t admit this to her just yet. Instead, he just watches her with curious eyes and expressed concern. To see someone so devoted, so kind, to break down and feel that she has nothing carves deeply into his heart.
Without realizing, Castile’s breath catches in his throat. His muscles freeze. His eyes search her face to see what lies underneath the question. Is it sorrow? Regret? Pain? Mistrust? Mentally, he gropes for an answer but the only consolation comes to mind is one that doesn’t entirely answer. ”You were too kind for a world too angry,” his breath hisses through his teeth as they clench together, his shoulders uncertainly shrugging. ”You took a crown during a period of unrest,” but she wasn’t his target – she never was. It was poor timing. It was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. ”I could have sheltered you, protected you, but you’re stubborn.” He smiles at her, but it is feeble knowing there is still a chance to be scoffed and reprimanded. Like Solace, she is set in her ways. The idealistic world that she imagines is likely different from his own vision, and that is where they clash.
It’s where they will always clash.
”I missed you,” he confesses softly, speaking intimately into the small space between them before finally reaching forward and touching the soft curve of her jaw. ”I will always treasure you, but we will always be on opposite sides.” He would bring her to Loess and allow her to immerse herself in a new culture, but she would oppose their every whim and decision. She would refuse to take part in their ventures and ambitions. Yet he still wants to protect her and keep her close.
Sighing, Castile sluggishly pulls himself from the soft brush of contact. ”I know you will not live in the meadow forever. You are too hard a worker to sit idle.”
It hurt, but he doesn’t admit this to her just yet. Instead, he just watches her with curious eyes and expressed concern. To see someone so devoted, so kind, to break down and feel that she has nothing carves deeply into his heart.
Without realizing, Castile’s breath catches in his throat. His muscles freeze. His eyes search her face to see what lies underneath the question. Is it sorrow? Regret? Pain? Mistrust? Mentally, he gropes for an answer but the only consolation comes to mind is one that doesn’t entirely answer. ”You were too kind for a world too angry,” his breath hisses through his teeth as they clench together, his shoulders uncertainly shrugging. ”You took a crown during a period of unrest,” but she wasn’t his target – she never was. It was poor timing. It was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. ”I could have sheltered you, protected you, but you’re stubborn.” He smiles at her, but it is feeble knowing there is still a chance to be scoffed and reprimanded. Like Solace, she is set in her ways. The idealistic world that she imagines is likely different from his own vision, and that is where they clash.
It’s where they will always clash.
”I missed you,” he confesses softly, speaking intimately into the small space between them before finally reaching forward and touching the soft curve of her jaw. ”I will always treasure you, but we will always be on opposite sides.” He would bring her to Loess and allow her to immerse herself in a new culture, but she would oppose their every whim and decision. She would refuse to take part in their ventures and ambitions. Yet he still wants to protect her and keep her close.
Sighing, Castile sluggishly pulls himself from the soft brush of contact. ”I know you will not live in the meadow forever. You are too hard a worker to sit idle.”
castile
@[Ilma]