11-18-2019, 02:27 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
They feed off each other, their coy bantering and enthralling conversations. It’s strange to have connected so quickly and for electricity to have united them so strongly. A need to be near her blossoms in his chest, but it does not compare to the love in his heart for Sochi. Possessiveness; the stake he claims on her fills him to the brim with excitement, as though she is another treasure for him to horde away. Different from Sochi, he reminds himself again as their eyes meet in light-hearted jest. ”Both,” he quickly reacts, having mulled his reasons before she could ask. ”The Resort has never posed much of a threat. The tradition continues,” a rumbling chuckle punctuates the thought as Castile’s eyes roam toward the western horizon where he recalls his time on the small stretch of land. Briefly, he wonders if it would make for a decent retirement home.
A strong gale rises and shuffles Castile’s forelock to frame his face as he returns to look at Oceane. ”Also happy to have you back,” he refuses to lie to her, to dodge around the fact that Loess is another face stronger with her here. She will become something here; somehow, some way, Castile will be the hand to help in her rise. ”You’re an asset I can appreciate,” a sincere grin tips the corners of his mouth as his thoughts stare ahead into a flourishing future.
Amusement glitters in his eyes when he realizes that much of the power here lies in the hands of women.
They are a fierce group.
It would be unwise to turn any of them away or turn down a small enough request as granting wishes.
There is mild hesitation, one in which she envelopes with a coy tease to lure his interest into her grasp. He is there, taking the bait, with his eyes roving across her curiously until the question draws his search to an abrupt halt. Slowly, enticingly, he lifts his chin with a smug grin painted across. ”Wouldn’t you like to know,” he croons deeply, his voice resonating through him and reaching tantalizingly toward her. It would be too easy, too boring, to entirely detail the reasoning of why they looked at him that way.
His body weight shifts and it’s tempting to flash her a jagged smile or rippling scales, but Castile resists with firm control.
Vaguely, he offers her an answer that will lead her into a rabbit hole of questions and curiosity. ”I could probably do it, if I wanted,” eat them, he means. A shrug ripples through his muscular shoulders while searching for one last statement to grant her. ”I’m not entirely as I appear.” Another broad response, a hook drifting in the waves in front of her. Oceane, after all, asked only why they looked at him that way; she never wondered what he is or what he could do. With a lopsided, boyish grin, he adds. ”Next wish?”
A strong gale rises and shuffles Castile’s forelock to frame his face as he returns to look at Oceane. ”Also happy to have you back,” he refuses to lie to her, to dodge around the fact that Loess is another face stronger with her here. She will become something here; somehow, some way, Castile will be the hand to help in her rise. ”You’re an asset I can appreciate,” a sincere grin tips the corners of his mouth as his thoughts stare ahead into a flourishing future.
Amusement glitters in his eyes when he realizes that much of the power here lies in the hands of women.
They are a fierce group.
It would be unwise to turn any of them away or turn down a small enough request as granting wishes.
There is mild hesitation, one in which she envelopes with a coy tease to lure his interest into her grasp. He is there, taking the bait, with his eyes roving across her curiously until the question draws his search to an abrupt halt. Slowly, enticingly, he lifts his chin with a smug grin painted across. ”Wouldn’t you like to know,” he croons deeply, his voice resonating through him and reaching tantalizingly toward her. It would be too easy, too boring, to entirely detail the reasoning of why they looked at him that way.
His body weight shifts and it’s tempting to flash her a jagged smile or rippling scales, but Castile resists with firm control.
Vaguely, he offers her an answer that will lead her into a rabbit hole of questions and curiosity. ”I could probably do it, if I wanted,” eat them, he means. A shrug ripples through his muscular shoulders while searching for one last statement to grant her. ”I’m not entirely as I appear.” Another broad response, a hook drifting in the waves in front of her. Oceane, after all, asked only why they looked at him that way; she never wondered what he is or what he could do. With a lopsided, boyish grin, he adds. ”Next wish?”
castile
@[Oceane]