01-28-2019, 02:38 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
Their core is heat, volatility. Castile has nearly forgotten tenderness when he searches her eyes, trying desperately to remember what they once were. But there was always a fiery buildup and a following explosion – there was always something to rock them on a turbulent sea.
Their emotions are escalating, burning dangerously beneath their skins. Sabra wants to ignite him, to resurface the emotions that he suppressed upon seeing her. And he’s feeding into it like the eruptive dragon he is. Adrenaline courses through him and his body ripples colorfully, the vibrancy startling. Castile has questioned for years if he is even capable of loving, of forging a family like the one his parents had. Desperation has soured him, destroyed him. From afar, he has watched his own friends thrive with their own land, their own women and children. And him? The one who was raised as a prince? He let it all slip through his fingers. Every opportunity he had, he ruined. At a distance, he observed how his childhood friends possessed the live he imagined – he wanted – for himself.
But jealousy is such an ugly monster, far more hideous than he could ever be.
It has been eating away at him, breaking him down and building him into an unleashed, rampaging beast.
Mother and father didn’t raise him to be like this. He is everything they weren’t.
He succumbed to his mistakes. He mistakenly let this happen.
Sabra doesn’t respond to him. She didn’t need to. Enough has been said, their voices increasingly venomous as their eyes intensely stab into each other. An offer has been made for her – and their children – to remain here, but even as the words slip past his lips, Castile knows the explosiveness of their lives and how it would burn down the island. Have they fallen so far? He snarls, his mind still trying to grasp what is happening – to him, to them, to the Resort – that he is too caught off guard by Sabra’s actions to immediately react. Every muscle freezes, iced over by the unexpected. In union, their bodies go rigid as the lightning flashes and courses through their veins. It holds them in place until the electricity passes into the sand away from them.
When the grip releases, Castile stumbles back. His wings flare to the sides, draconic, and fire ejects from his mouth into the foreboding, gray sky. It both energizes and weakens him, the lightning. A shaking breath trembles from his lungs and his body droops. A silent glance finds Sabra, but he says and does nothing, suddenly tamed by Mother Nature.
Their emotions are escalating, burning dangerously beneath their skins. Sabra wants to ignite him, to resurface the emotions that he suppressed upon seeing her. And he’s feeding into it like the eruptive dragon he is. Adrenaline courses through him and his body ripples colorfully, the vibrancy startling. Castile has questioned for years if he is even capable of loving, of forging a family like the one his parents had. Desperation has soured him, destroyed him. From afar, he has watched his own friends thrive with their own land, their own women and children. And him? The one who was raised as a prince? He let it all slip through his fingers. Every opportunity he had, he ruined. At a distance, he observed how his childhood friends possessed the live he imagined – he wanted – for himself.
But jealousy is such an ugly monster, far more hideous than he could ever be.
It has been eating away at him, breaking him down and building him into an unleashed, rampaging beast.
Mother and father didn’t raise him to be like this. He is everything they weren’t.
He succumbed to his mistakes. He mistakenly let this happen.
Sabra doesn’t respond to him. She didn’t need to. Enough has been said, their voices increasingly venomous as their eyes intensely stab into each other. An offer has been made for her – and their children – to remain here, but even as the words slip past his lips, Castile knows the explosiveness of their lives and how it would burn down the island. Have they fallen so far? He snarls, his mind still trying to grasp what is happening – to him, to them, to the Resort – that he is too caught off guard by Sabra’s actions to immediately react. Every muscle freezes, iced over by the unexpected. In union, their bodies go rigid as the lightning flashes and courses through their veins. It holds them in place until the electricity passes into the sand away from them.
When the grip releases, Castile stumbles back. His wings flare to the sides, draconic, and fire ejects from his mouth into the foreboding, gray sky. It both energizes and weakens him, the lightning. A shaking breath trembles from his lungs and his body droops. A silent glance finds Sabra, but he says and does nothing, suddenly tamed by Mother Nature.
castile
@[Sabra]