anyone;

[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

A deep breath fills Castile’s lungs. It’s heavy with moisture from the melted snow having seeped into the leaf beds. He swallows, suppressing the hunger that rises in his stomach.
 
(Hunt. We must hunt)
Not yet.
 
In the darkness, far from prying eyes, Castile has released his grip on the sorrel skin so that he may rest his mind. It has happened only once here in Taiga, the few other times being in the other forests when he hid himself well enough. This weighs on his conscience; part of him regrets lying to the boy. It wasn’t meant to last more than that conversation, more than that single day, but he enjoyed the airy conversation with Nash enough to acquiesce to his invitation. So, here he is, living as a sorrel gelding in Taiga.
 
What started as an escape from politics ended with a riptide pulling him into a whirlpool of it. He couldn’t fight the undertow. Taiga will be quiet, he thought. It will grant him time away in solitude.
 
Why don’t we give Taiga to Rocky?
 
The question teases the edges of his thoughts, and Castile shakes his head. This isn’t what he wanted, but he is already too far in. Defend the leaders, his conscious says. Defy Lepis and her family’s ambitions (perhaps spiteful of him given recent circumstances, but…) and play the devil’s advocate to Elio’s claim. Watch how the chaos and disruption plays out. Part of him pities the boy, but only because Castile has experienced a similar predicament. He is familiar with the rejection and with the drive to attain what others stand in the way of. But oh, how fun it is to be on this side of the court.
 
Arriving to the southern river, Castile takes pause. He looks down into the water and observes the reflection of himself for the first time. This isn’t him – so bland, so boring – but he forces himself to embrace it for now, at least until the churning waters finally settle here in Taiga.

 

castile

a post because my in-laws are no longer here staying with us, and because i don't feel like working lol

[Leilan]

Oceane and Nashua - together they had reminded him of the important things of life. Perhaps the hunger that plagued both him and his residents, his clan, his family as he had dubbed them - perhaps hunger made him forget sometimes. Made him cranky and eager to lash out.

But was that a bad thing? Up until then, Icicle Isle had been a silent territory. After the initial debacle had settled, at least. It had been a territory for the brave, for the strong-willed northerners that could live with the cold. A collection of horses that frequently seemed to have a little magic about them that allowed them to step where others could not - now, it was similar, but more in the direction of actual survival. Not bad, perhaps, but not that good either.

What rises from the ashes?

Something stronger than before.

The ice dragon had watched Oceane take her leave, knowing she would honor her promise to come see the Isle tomorrow, and bring Alcinder as well. He had not asked her to come because politics couldn’t be discussed in Loess, or the riverlands which had been neutral enough - but because he needed them to see, to smell, and know what it was that she was bargaining about.

But today was not for politics, he’d said, and he’d meant it - today, apparently, became another day to guide a yearling colt home.

He had debated leaving the frozen carcass, but eventually decided to take it. It would be an odd sight, a dragon carrying half a deer around like it was a popsicle, but he wanted to bring it home for the other predatory shifters. So now, he’d carried it in his large, black-and-brown claws, and dumped it near the border in a bush with a thud. Anyone seeing it would understand that it wasn’t naturally frozen - and hopefully steer clear, long enough for Leilan to drop off Nashua.

He wasn’t actually surprised to find a kid of Lilliana wandering about. Just marvelled over the odds of him running into the boy.

It is only after dropping the frozen carcass that he shrinks back into his horse-shape (only registering just after that to Nashua, this is new). He keeps the silvery, ice-clad wings that seem to fit the roaning of his body, just as a precaution. He hasn’t kept up with Taiga for a while, and it seemed to him wings could be handy if he ran into someone who didn’t appreciate his presence here.

He turns to Nash, assuming the boy would be staring like he had throughout the whole of their earlier conversation. ”Stop gaping. Let’s go and find your mother.”

nothing burns like the cold

Leilan

@[Nashua] unaware that Lilli is stolen, or maybe she could be gone while Nash was out if that works for you?
@[Castile] hello Rocky ^^

[Nashua]

NASHUA

Nashua is beginning to understand some things about politics. The chestnut yearling can’t say he entirely cares for it - if it results in his mother going missing and unease settling into Taiga instead of family. He had wanted to spread his wings and take to the sky as soon as he could but his brother, Yanhua, keeps him grounded to the Redwood Forest and Celina helps bring the sky to him.

There had been some apprehension in the back of his mind when the opalescent mare, Oceane, took her leave. The winged boy wasn’t entirely sure of his companion yet and managed to keep a respectful distance between himself and Leilan.

It’s hard, though, for a child of Lilliana’s not to look at something and wonder about something as wild as the dragon stallion - untamed (icy) edges of dragon scales, uncultivated curves of dragon wing.

This world is full of lessons for Nash to learn and his eyes widen when the dragon shifts. The fact that he can trade one skin for another is nothing new to him. His sire is capable of the same trait, with an ability to change form for another before the boy can blink. (And how many times has Celina told him that Dad is the very best shifter?) Nash just didn’t expect that underneath all that wilderness, that Leilan could look so ... tame.

(If Nashua knew better, the realization might have scared him.)

He still shudders when Leilan stashes his kill in a bush on the Taigan border. The boy looks away and continues to walk into his home, searching through the empty spaces in between the trees for a familiar form. The crimson glean of Yan, the light iridescence of Celina, even the sweet gold of his Aunt Elaina.

The boy looks back to his companion again and at the mention of his mother, his ears flick back and his expression darkens. "She’s not here,” he admits, rather gruff for a yearling. "She went out one night and never came back.” The caretakers in his life assure him that everything will be alright; eventually she’ll be back (or maybe she won't). Those assurances do nothing, though, to comfort a child in the quiet hours of night when it is just him and his twin in their clearing. They do nothing to ease a sting of pain that makes him wonder if there was something he could have done, that he should have learned better from Elio on how to protect and be brave.

Nash wouldn’t admit such a thing to a nomad outside of Taiga, but at home, it feels safe to here.

Quickly, he looks away, eager for a distraction. The red sheen of a sorrel ahead - patrolling their borders - supplies it. The boy takes a step forward and grins, his tenor voice echoing carrying through the Redwoods. "Rocky!”

and for every king that died
they would crown another

html © castlegraphics

@[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

There’s a familiarity in the voices rising above the quiet. Castile takes pause, noting them and searching his memories. It takes only a moment, of course. The men have been prominent faces in his life, both years past and most recent. A breath catches in his throat, an uncertainty, because each one knows a separate entity.

Leilan knows Castile.
Nash knows Rocky.

It’s easy to run away, but Castile hardly humors the idea; he has never been one to flee. Even in as odd of a predicament as this, he cannot bear the thought to withdraw into the shadows as they approach him without realizing. Freezing, he waits for the inevitable moment of recognition. Suddenly, the crickets have stopped chirping and the birds have stopped singing. Around them, the air is stagnant with weighted anticipation until his false name claps like thunder and splits the solitude like lightning. With determined effort, Castile jerks his head in their direction in pseudo-surprise, widening his nutmeg eyes as they befall the pair.

”Nash!” He returns playfully as a jovial grin spreads like sunshine across his lips, warm and inviting as he moves to help close the space among them. His senses electrify to life and it takes every ounce of his energy to not shift after having seen Leilan in his alternate body. Last they met, it was a clash of titans as Castile’s mind fell peril to the games of faeries. They did not part on good terms, but that was to be expected after the destruction Castile wrought.

With a deep breath to maintain composure, he flashes his eyes from one to the other. ”How are you, Nash?” Still here, still safe, which is unfortunately not the fate of Lilliana. With a swallow of his pride, Castile lifts his chin and regards the frost-kissed male. ”And who’s your brawny – and hungry – friend here?” He smells the carcass but is disgruntled by the ice used on it instead of charring. Perhaps, that is one of the many differences between the two dragons.

castile

@[Leilan] @{nashua]

[Leilan]

The loss of birdsong whenever he takes a too-predatory shape is nothing new to Leilan; in fact, he'd gotten used to it when his pointy teeth were permanent, knowing he wouldn't be smelling like a normal horse whenever he'd eaten anything non-veggie. Still, after shifting back, critters usually crawl back out if nothing scary happens, though it is slowly - also not unusual.

It's the flash of red horseskin that catches his attention, as well as the heat signature accompanying it. At the same time, Nashua says his mother has disappeared, and he turns to the boy with a frown. "Any idea where to? How else am I to tell her of your little escapade?" He says, his tone more or less joking - perhaps he'll cheer the boy up a little. Though he truly doubts it will work presently, as he sees the worry in the green eyes of the yearling, a pain he cannot expect to lift until Lilliana makes it back to him.

It is indeed not the chestnut mare who greets them, but from the tone in both males' voices, it is easy to decipher they are comfortable enough around one another. Chocolate eyes study the two together for a while, wondering about the male's scent - smoke and ashes, and a hint of familiarity that's hidden by a thick Taigan redwood scent - and his name, which seems so simple for Beqannan standards. His eyes take an almost yellow-ish gleam to them when he is mentioned as looking hungry, but the colour diminishes slowly during the rest of the conversation. "Leilan. Guardian escort to yet another yearling. I should make it my trade," he offers, though the grimace he wears is more of a half-smile than anything else, "although for now I suppose making sure that some food arrives on the Isle should stay top priority." he adds - no, he isn't entirely sure about the identity of a man named Rocky, and he can only find out by jabbing with something only Castile would take a hint at. If it's not him, then it would be a perfect explanation of the frozen carcass waiting for him nearby. So Leilan grins cheerfully, not at all that bothered by the happy occurrence of finding Rocky. After all, he is certainly not one to break a good ruse. That'd take the largest part of the whole joke out of it, and for any kind of joke, he is all-in.

nothing burns like the cold

Leilan

@[Nashua] @[Castile]

[Nashua]

NASHUA

The woods fall quieter with each step that the pair take into Taiga and the curiosity that piques at the back of yearling’s mind is only visible by the way his ears move, back and forth, noting the absence of the sound. It makes him glance sidelong at Leilan again, as if the boy half-expected the sight of smoke winnowing from his dark nostrils.

Nashua gives a hard shake at Leilan's question, "No.” The word is said firmly - laced with the emotion of a missing parent - and the chestnut yearling huffs, "Not that anybody tells me anything.”

‘Rocky’, thankfully, distracts the adolescent.

The colt smiles and extends it to Leilan (almost apologetically) with another side glance to his chaperone. His expression becomes curious at the mention of yet another yearling and the boy tilts his head, "You’ve done this before?” It had been an accident to stumble across a dragon and he wonders if this is something that dragons normally do - returning "lost" things. Not having met one before, the question lingers behind his green eyes that brighten with the thought.

He falls quiet, turning his attention back to the sorrel stallion. "I’ve been practicing flying,” and the winged colt stretches them partially from his copper back, proud of the spotted coloration (all shades of auburn and brown) starting to emerge from his fledgling feathers. The smile transforms into a charming grin though Nashua doesn’t elaborate that most of his flying lessons come from the bay mare, Popinjay, or anything about her unusual … teaching methods.

"You still haven’t found yours?” he teases the older stallion, referencing to their first meeting in the Meadow about his ‘missing’ wings. "We could fly together.”

Focusing back on Leilan - the mention of the Isle (and how could it not when horses still muttered about the razing of it) makes him glance up at the dragon stallion. Nashua lacks the social grace of his dam (a practiced thing, anyways, a skill that Nash hasn’t yet learned) and so the boy thinks nothing of it when he asks: "Were you there when it burned?”

and for every king that died
they would crown another

html © castlegraphics

@[Castile]