03-14-2018, 12:46 PM
A torrent of emotions washes across Castile. Regret, embarrassment, a sick thrill.
(There was blood)
He shoves aside the lingering thought – the hunger of the creature living in his soul – and presses onward. Initially, Castile wasn’t sure of his direction, or even a true purpose.
(Her scent)
A memory of breathing her in catches and he can recall the scent of deciduous trees and damp, fallen leaves. When he remembers the kingdom, he fleetingly sees Djinni and how her eyes glistened with curiosity when he sped from Hyaline to Sylva. He sees Ivar as they fumbled through the woods as careless children, laughing and smiling without a single care. That was years ago, however, and Djinni has since resigned from the throne.
When his eyes open from the replay of memories, Castile has veered his direction to trace the base of a mountain, walking until a wall of trees greets him. Never has he entered from the western border; somehow, it’s different and yet the same. Behind him lies the barren Plains and where their blood splattered across the red clay. A sparing glance over his shoulder elicits a shudder before craning his neck to look ahead again. He knows better than to push past the invisible gates. For a long while, he waits until she arrives, drawn by a foreign – or would he be familiar now? – scent. When Sabra arrives, he hesitates as emotion chokes him of words.
Breathe.
A slow lungful of air is drawn in and for a heartbeat his eyes are cast down before leveling to find her again. ”I… I feel like I should apologize.” As he always does because he isn’t a cold-hearted monster (but he is so capable of the title). Kagerus had been the first victim. Now Sabra. They’ve seen pieces of his puzzle, but only Karaugh has seen him for what he truly is; only she has seen the beast in full, but she is dead now. ”It’s a battle and I can’t entirely control what happens. I can stop myself from fully shifting sometimes… but the minor things, I can’t when my adrenaline runs high.” He is putting himself on a platter for her, but then he takes pause with a dragged step back. ”Perhaps, a more cordial introduction is in order? I’m Castile, of Loess.”
(There was blood)
He shoves aside the lingering thought – the hunger of the creature living in his soul – and presses onward. Initially, Castile wasn’t sure of his direction, or even a true purpose.
(Her scent)
A memory of breathing her in catches and he can recall the scent of deciduous trees and damp, fallen leaves. When he remembers the kingdom, he fleetingly sees Djinni and how her eyes glistened with curiosity when he sped from Hyaline to Sylva. He sees Ivar as they fumbled through the woods as careless children, laughing and smiling without a single care. That was years ago, however, and Djinni has since resigned from the throne.
When his eyes open from the replay of memories, Castile has veered his direction to trace the base of a mountain, walking until a wall of trees greets him. Never has he entered from the western border; somehow, it’s different and yet the same. Behind him lies the barren Plains and where their blood splattered across the red clay. A sparing glance over his shoulder elicits a shudder before craning his neck to look ahead again. He knows better than to push past the invisible gates. For a long while, he waits until she arrives, drawn by a foreign – or would he be familiar now? – scent. When Sabra arrives, he hesitates as emotion chokes him of words.
Breathe.
A slow lungful of air is drawn in and for a heartbeat his eyes are cast down before leveling to find her again. ”I… I feel like I should apologize.” As he always does because he isn’t a cold-hearted monster (but he is so capable of the title). Kagerus had been the first victim. Now Sabra. They’ve seen pieces of his puzzle, but only Karaugh has seen him for what he truly is; only she has seen the beast in full, but she is dead now. ”It’s a battle and I can’t entirely control what happens. I can stop myself from fully shifting sometimes… but the minor things, I can’t when my adrenaline runs high.” He is putting himself on a platter for her, but then he takes pause with a dragged step back. ”Perhaps, a more cordial introduction is in order? I’m Castile, of Loess.”
Not sure how this fits into a timeline, but oh well lmao