12-08-2017, 10:40 PM
”A dragon,” he answers rather quietly, but with a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It kindles thoughts and memories of father. He remembers being a boy and peering up at Lior for the first time, drinking in his immeasurable strength and size. The leathery wings held his attention longest as it awakened a child’s elaborate imagination. Of course, in his mind, father was above all others. He could never be defeated or replaced; he was a titan in the eyes of his young boy.
But Castile has since grown. His size almost mirrors his father’s, and while he understands that no one is invincible, pride still permeates his mind at the idea of sharing a trait with him. Just like father, he is dragonborn.
Castile notes Starlin’s bashfulness as her eyes dart back and forth in desperate search for a distraction. This time, he doesn’t lift her chin to search her eyes. He doesn’t press closer or dreamily blink his eyes, but he observes her with an occasional glance to the river to break his own stare. The lurking primal instincts in his gut intensify the ridges of his face often times without his realization. He would’ve continued to divert were it not for her admission of her future in Nerine. The answer stirs him and brightens the gaze of his mismatched eyes. ”A warrior,” like him, he muses but never says, ”you will fit in perfectly then.” He would offer to mock with her, but he reflects on his battle with Krigare, and how he could not control himself. Castile would never forgive himself for hurting Starlin.
”Ivar’s sister,” he adds thoughtfully as a lighthearted grin bears down on her, ”You’re practically family.”
But Castile has since grown. His size almost mirrors his father’s, and while he understands that no one is invincible, pride still permeates his mind at the idea of sharing a trait with him. Just like father, he is dragonborn.
Castile notes Starlin’s bashfulness as her eyes dart back and forth in desperate search for a distraction. This time, he doesn’t lift her chin to search her eyes. He doesn’t press closer or dreamily blink his eyes, but he observes her with an occasional glance to the river to break his own stare. The lurking primal instincts in his gut intensify the ridges of his face often times without his realization. He would’ve continued to divert were it not for her admission of her future in Nerine. The answer stirs him and brightens the gaze of his mismatched eyes. ”A warrior,” like him, he muses but never says, ”you will fit in perfectly then.” He would offer to mock with her, but he reflects on his battle with Krigare, and how he could not control himself. Castile would never forgive himself for hurting Starlin.
”Ivar’s sister,” he adds thoughtfully as a lighthearted grin bears down on her, ”You’re practically family.”