Lost my faith in wrong and right; Castile

[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

In fact, yes, it is still him. There are predatory instincts threading through him as they speak, branching through him like veins as the shift makes itself permanent in his body. Everything draconic seeps into him, flushing away the remnants of his typical and equine self. Oblivious to the changes – it’s still so new, so invigorating! – Castile settles comfortably in front of Ilma, not even recognizing the way in which his subconscious twists and turns. At the forefront of his mind, he remains himself and capable of controlling himself.

(Time is ticking)

”I like it when you call me that,” he chuckles, his expression languid despite the rough edges of his scales and the horns racing back from his skull. Of course, he teases her. It has never been his nature to boast his title to others, never calling himself King even as the crown sits perched on his brow. He could continue with her jest, play along with her formalities as though they’ve not known each other the past decade. Alas, he does not fall prey to her game, rolling his shoulders casually as his mismatched eyes pierce her. ”Oh, is that so, Ilma?” For many years, they’ve seen the world from different angles. He couldn’t fault her; it was her nature to be kind and peaceful, to prefer a lull over chaos.

He, a monster by birth, finds solace in those peaceful days but also craves the adrenaline rush elicited by chaos and mayhem.

And like others before him, Ilma could have been harmed in it all, whether emotionally or physically. It’s unfair of him to push others away to protect them. After all, it is their own choice, but there is still good inside him, if even underneath many layers of scales, fire, and aggression.

Castile doesn’t regret what he said and did to her last they met; and he doesn’t breach the topic, but her statement brings a question of why. Why would she want to stay with him, in Loess, under the rule of a volatile beast? He has told her that taming him is not an option, that he will not be babysat, which leads him to believe that she is aware of so much more. Blinking slowly, thoughtfully, Castile regards her pointed question and debates which course to take. The rhythm of his heart is nearly felt in the soil beneath their feet, inviting Ilma’s to echo it and synchronize. Despite the turbulence he has created in his life recently, he remains at ease, unwilling to allow any others to dive into his sub consciousness and rip him apart from the inside. ”The truth always comes out,” he simply states, glancing away as he accepts what is to come. He is dangerous, not just physically, but he has always known this.

No one ever wants to listen.

castile