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
The meadow is alive, humming with voices and brushing shoulders. Castile closely listens to it all, sparing a glance periodically. A summer heat blankets across all of them. A thin layer of sweat accumulates, darkening Castile’s russet coat in patches, but he does not seek shade. He thrives in the heat, finding comfort in its grasp even in these days of complete solitude and isolation. Sweeping his tail, he removes a couple flies from his flanks.
The boy that approaches doesn’t escape Castile’s notice. There are excitable footsteps and then a pause. Only then does the former king lift his head in acknowledgment. Grass peeks out from the sides of his mouth as he finishes chewing, a smile slowly lifting the solemnity of his face. Children are a weakness of his; their innocence and exuberance are to be envied in such a catastrophic world. ”Darn,” Castile replies after swallowing his food, ”I left them at home.” An airy chuckle tumbles freely forward and his gaze brightens like fire. It takes everything in him not to produce his draconic wings at his sides, or to exhale a plume of black smoke in his rising amusement.
The boy doesn’t know him, not yet at least, and so he suppresses everything inside him that is true to his nature – his draconic side and consciousness.
Don’t let him find out about us.
(Not yet)
Shaking to rid the dust from his coat, Castile adds, ”Mine aren’t quite as impressive as yours though!” He traces the feathered appendages with envy and fascination, genuinely missing his for the moment. Wings are freedom; there are no limits in the sky. ”You will see so many things and soar many miles. Endless adventures.” A lopsided, boyish grin finalizes and concretes his face. ”We could have pretended to be twins,” his laughter is infectious, light-hearted, ”but we look close enough to siblings.” Isobell comes to mind, burning him with longing, until he pushes her to the back of his mind.
The boy that approaches doesn’t escape Castile’s notice. There are excitable footsteps and then a pause. Only then does the former king lift his head in acknowledgment. Grass peeks out from the sides of his mouth as he finishes chewing, a smile slowly lifting the solemnity of his face. Children are a weakness of his; their innocence and exuberance are to be envied in such a catastrophic world. ”Darn,” Castile replies after swallowing his food, ”I left them at home.” An airy chuckle tumbles freely forward and his gaze brightens like fire. It takes everything in him not to produce his draconic wings at his sides, or to exhale a plume of black smoke in his rising amusement.
The boy doesn’t know him, not yet at least, and so he suppresses everything inside him that is true to his nature – his draconic side and consciousness.
Don’t let him find out about us.
(Not yet)
Shaking to rid the dust from his coat, Castile adds, ”Mine aren’t quite as impressive as yours though!” He traces the feathered appendages with envy and fascination, genuinely missing his for the moment. Wings are freedom; there are no limits in the sky. ”You will see so many things and soar many miles. Endless adventures.” A lopsided, boyish grin finalizes and concretes his face. ”We could have pretended to be twins,” his laughter is infectious, light-hearted, ”but we look close enough to siblings.” Isobell comes to mind, burning him with longing, until he pushes her to the back of his mind.
castile
@[Nashua]