01-24-2018, 04:18 PM
Nayl and Lior raised a coward.
As a boy, he looked up to father and wanted to mirror the sheer image of power, the herculean aura, that embodied the onyx stallion. It was a dream that edged toward fruition until he lost control of himself. Dragonborn, he remembers Lior muttering with a pleased smile smeared across his face. The word burned itself into Castile, a daily reminder of what he could be – what he is.
The others mastered their flight and their shifting so effortlessly. They embraced their abilities and soared to great heights, leaving the boy struggling on the ground near the river. It wasn’t until Castile was at the cusp of adulthood that the monster roiling in his gut surfaced. It went unnoticed at first when he fled to Sylva during the fires of Hyaline. Adrenaline blinded him to the changes of his body and he was never able to truly mimic it again. Parts of his body, sure, but never in whole.
Not until Karaugh.
She breathed life into the monster.
And Krigare, his opponent on the plains.
No, no, don’t think of them.
Their memories cause a deep stir in his gut, the sense of dread that consumed him before his body ripped and cracked to berth something far greater and unimaginable. As a distraction, he forces his mind to grope for Isobell and Solace – the only two that brought serenity in his dark times – until his entire body settles once more. He dares not to even think of the blood that dribbled on his tongue before his vision bled crimson and his memory skipped. Castile knows not of the complete damage of what he has done – if any – but he knows of the creature that shares his mind and soul. It frightened him into seclusion, but he is here again, suppressing the internal flame. The blood has since been rinsed and flaked away, leaving his body cleansed of his past sins.
As a boy, he looked up to father and wanted to mirror the sheer image of power, the herculean aura, that embodied the onyx stallion. It was a dream that edged toward fruition until he lost control of himself. Dragonborn, he remembers Lior muttering with a pleased smile smeared across his face. The word burned itself into Castile, a daily reminder of what he could be – what he is.
The others mastered their flight and their shifting so effortlessly. They embraced their abilities and soared to great heights, leaving the boy struggling on the ground near the river. It wasn’t until Castile was at the cusp of adulthood that the monster roiling in his gut surfaced. It went unnoticed at first when he fled to Sylva during the fires of Hyaline. Adrenaline blinded him to the changes of his body and he was never able to truly mimic it again. Parts of his body, sure, but never in whole.
Not until Karaugh.
She breathed life into the monster.
And Krigare, his opponent on the plains.
No, no, don’t think of them.
Their memories cause a deep stir in his gut, the sense of dread that consumed him before his body ripped and cracked to berth something far greater and unimaginable. As a distraction, he forces his mind to grope for Isobell and Solace – the only two that brought serenity in his dark times – until his entire body settles once more. He dares not to even think of the blood that dribbled on his tongue before his vision bled crimson and his memory skipped. Castile knows not of the complete damage of what he has done – if any – but he knows of the creature that shares his mind and soul. It frightened him into seclusion, but he is here again, suppressing the internal flame. The blood has since been rinsed and flaked away, leaving his body cleansed of his past sins.