11-08-2019, 11:56 AM
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
Defeat is not in Lepis’ vocabulary, nor his own. There are hitches in their goals and dreams, small setbacks, but they always overcome and surpass them. They are strong; of this, he is well aware.
In her eyes, he can clearly see the frustration and the undeniable conflict that burrows deep into her heart. It rises in the tone of her voice and in the need for contact – reassurance – as she reaches to toy with his metallic locks. Their blood skews in different directions and yet he treasures her as a sister. Perhaps, once it was easy to regard her as a niece because she was a child handed a throne while he was a floundering adult with no place in the world. Seeing her now, however, as a woman grown and a fierce Queen – because she will always be a matriarch in his eyes – it’s increasingly difficult to remember her as an ignorant and confused weanling. Yet he cannot utter the word sister without Isobell coming to mind.
Drowning in his own thoughts, his own schemes, he at first does not hear her sharp ‘no.’ It passes over deaf ears, but when it softens the second time, it somehow trickles through him and lifts his eyes to her own. Suddenly, there is only them in the forest, only them against the world.
And she can almost see it, too.
She wants to come home, to be embraced by Loess’ familiarity. The thought – the offer – has been sitting on his tongue, impatiently waiting to seize the opportunity. It arises as if on cue, and Castile does not reel away in shock. He is steadfast and calm as a warm grin softens the harsh lines of his face. ”Then come home,” he croons, his neck handsomely arching to search her eyes. She openly expresses her concern, and it perfectly mirrors his own. Uncertainty furrows his brow. ”A poor heir,” he remarks coldly with a curl of his lip that immediately blacks out his previous grin. ”He is a fool to be the lamb of a—“ he stops himself because in truth, he has always respected Heartfire, even when their perceptions heavily oppose each other. ”He is a fool,” he reiterates, straightening himself with dignity, ”and I don’t want Taiga to fail as it had before you took it. It thrives with Loess backing it. It thrives with you.” It makes their situation precarious, her word to the heir teetering.
In order to protect Lepis’ trustworthiness and promises to Aten, Castile sacrifices his own image and reputation.
But she is worth it. Family is always worth it.
With a strained breath, his decision arises and freezes in the cool space between them. ”As Taiga’s King,” a pause because he has never been one to flaunt the title, especially to her, ”As your King, I refuse to allow your current heir to take Taiga. As a territory of Loess, it needs someone loyal to the crown…” He trails off, searching for the right words, for the ideal situation that will give them a greater edge against a world that wants them caged and tamed. A contemplative stare rides the height of the surrounding trees, toward the curtains of sunlight slashing through the leaves. In his chest, his heart drums.
Then he drops his gaze back to Lepis, a decision flirting with his curved, grinning lips.
”Lepis, rule Loess with me. Be its Queen again, and I its King. We will reign together,” he already knows how prosperous this will be, how the kingdom will continue to flourish with their combined efforts. ”Put your son on Taiga’s throne as a placeholder so that this land remains under Loess’ influence. Reia will live here with him to continue and build the alliance and to outnumber Aten,” he doesn’t realize how close their children already are, what acts they’ve performed within Taiga’s shadows. ”In due time, we will find a deserving Loessian to gift this territory to if Pteron no longer wants to rule.” It’s the best he can do for her, to preserve her efforts here while raise her to what she wants and needs.
”Come rule Loess with me.”
In her eyes, he can clearly see the frustration and the undeniable conflict that burrows deep into her heart. It rises in the tone of her voice and in the need for contact – reassurance – as she reaches to toy with his metallic locks. Their blood skews in different directions and yet he treasures her as a sister. Perhaps, once it was easy to regard her as a niece because she was a child handed a throne while he was a floundering adult with no place in the world. Seeing her now, however, as a woman grown and a fierce Queen – because she will always be a matriarch in his eyes – it’s increasingly difficult to remember her as an ignorant and confused weanling. Yet he cannot utter the word sister without Isobell coming to mind.
Drowning in his own thoughts, his own schemes, he at first does not hear her sharp ‘no.’ It passes over deaf ears, but when it softens the second time, it somehow trickles through him and lifts his eyes to her own. Suddenly, there is only them in the forest, only them against the world.
And she can almost see it, too.
She wants to come home, to be embraced by Loess’ familiarity. The thought – the offer – has been sitting on his tongue, impatiently waiting to seize the opportunity. It arises as if on cue, and Castile does not reel away in shock. He is steadfast and calm as a warm grin softens the harsh lines of his face. ”Then come home,” he croons, his neck handsomely arching to search her eyes. She openly expresses her concern, and it perfectly mirrors his own. Uncertainty furrows his brow. ”A poor heir,” he remarks coldly with a curl of his lip that immediately blacks out his previous grin. ”He is a fool to be the lamb of a—“ he stops himself because in truth, he has always respected Heartfire, even when their perceptions heavily oppose each other. ”He is a fool,” he reiterates, straightening himself with dignity, ”and I don’t want Taiga to fail as it had before you took it. It thrives with Loess backing it. It thrives with you.” It makes their situation precarious, her word to the heir teetering.
In order to protect Lepis’ trustworthiness and promises to Aten, Castile sacrifices his own image and reputation.
But she is worth it. Family is always worth it.
With a strained breath, his decision arises and freezes in the cool space between them. ”As Taiga’s King,” a pause because he has never been one to flaunt the title, especially to her, ”As your King, I refuse to allow your current heir to take Taiga. As a territory of Loess, it needs someone loyal to the crown…” He trails off, searching for the right words, for the ideal situation that will give them a greater edge against a world that wants them caged and tamed. A contemplative stare rides the height of the surrounding trees, toward the curtains of sunlight slashing through the leaves. In his chest, his heart drums.
Then he drops his gaze back to Lepis, a decision flirting with his curved, grinning lips.
”Lepis, rule Loess with me. Be its Queen again, and I its King. We will reign together,” he already knows how prosperous this will be, how the kingdom will continue to flourish with their combined efforts. ”Put your son on Taiga’s throne as a placeholder so that this land remains under Loess’ influence. Reia will live here with him to continue and build the alliance and to outnumber Aten,” he doesn’t realize how close their children already are, what acts they’ve performed within Taiga’s shadows. ”In due time, we will find a deserving Loessian to gift this territory to if Pteron no longer wants to rule.” It’s the best he can do for her, to preserve her efforts here while raise her to what she wants and needs.
”Come rule Loess with me.”
castile
@[Lepis]