01-08-2019, 10:31 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
Even as he confesses to her – painfully admits all his sins – Isobell is still so tenderhearted. Her embrace around him, their closeness, doesn’t waver despite the peril that he described. He is a failure to the family, and yet his sister refuses to see him in such poor, dim lighting. ”How did I get so lucky to have a sister like you?” There are so many broken families, so many turbulent relationships among siblings and yet their love for one another remains unblemished and pure. Despite the way she flinched beneath his soft caress of her withers, Castile presses a sweet kiss to the puckered flesh. ”I wish I could have intervened,” his heart trembles unhappily at the thought even if it’s far in the past now. ”He tried killing you like you were irrelevant, unimportant…” his jaws clench together and sharpen. Canines sink down from his gums in a brief loss of control, but he regains it with a slow intake of salty air.
”I’m sorry,” he mutters with a slow shake of his head, his forelock swaying across the ridges of his face, ”You love him?” He doesn’t ask in spite or in anger, but in sincere curiosity. As confirmation, his gaze searches hers, wanting to somehow feel and drown himself in the warmth of her love and adoration. Is it different from her perspective from his own? They both have children, but at least hers are only with Ivar while his coupling extends beyond just one woman.
Father would be ashamed.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Castile whispers, ”I’m not sure I’m capable of love.” With a weighted sigh, he drags his wing back across Isobell and curls it again to his side. The level of his head droops, too, embarrassed almost to even tell her this. The intricacies of their relationships have often been unchartered territory between them and yet the words spill like water past his lips. ”Every attempt has fallen apart…” because, as implied, there have been multiple.
”I’m sorry,” he mutters with a slow shake of his head, his forelock swaying across the ridges of his face, ”You love him?” He doesn’t ask in spite or in anger, but in sincere curiosity. As confirmation, his gaze searches hers, wanting to somehow feel and drown himself in the warmth of her love and adoration. Is it different from her perspective from his own? They both have children, but at least hers are only with Ivar while his coupling extends beyond just one woman.
Father would be ashamed.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Castile whispers, ”I’m not sure I’m capable of love.” With a weighted sigh, he drags his wing back across Isobell and curls it again to his side. The level of his head droops, too, embarrassed almost to even tell her this. The intricacies of their relationships have often been unchartered territory between them and yet the words spill like water past his lips. ”Every attempt has fallen apart…” because, as implied, there have been multiple.
castile
@[Isobell]