do you feel like a young god? castile

[Castile]

Castile knew it would only be a matter of time. He has been glancing often to the border, waiting until the gilded king crested a hill or broke through the treeline. He could have fled back to Loess or even to a reclusive lifestyle in the caves of Nerine, but yet he remained here. With the river babbling alongside him, Castile placidly bides his time and stands in the dappled sunlight to retain any warmth possible. Winter is his least favorite season, but both the river and Loess provide little shelter from the blistering winds. It brings his gaze drifting toward the northern shore where Nerine’s peninsula juts out. It croons gently to him, enticing him with the caves where he could find shelter and let himself become numb with the guilt and pain of his decisions.

But something roots him here. When his gut lurches to return home, his legs freeze in place. For a heartbeat, he wonders why, but then an inhalation of the frigid air confirms what he has been truthfully expecting but not hoping for.

There is a bitterness etched on Amet’s face, his jaws clenched together in frustration. Even from here, Castile can see the rope-like muscles contracting. There is a pain, but also a fire, burning in his friend’s eyes that he has never before seen. Knowing what looms, Castile pivots and continues to steadily breathe until the Hyaline King approaches. Their eyes hold for one, two, heartbeats, before he says, ”Hello, Amet,” in an amiable enough manner as to not betray the discomfort that is already leeching into him.