01-31-2019, 10:35 AM
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
He doesn’t hate her, nor can he fathom ever hating her, not when their history traces back to so many years ago when he did not have control over the creature inside him. Sabra witnessed his constant warring, and she reassured him that he – Castile – would prove superior to the underlying volatile dragon.
But he isn’t. He didn’t win. Instead, he compromised and allowed himself to succumb to a predatory way of life. It’s restrained to a degree, yes, but he remains fairly unpredictable with a heated temper and insatiable hunger. For her safety (and here, he glances at the scar he left her) it’s best to loosen his grip on her, even as much as he hates losing power.
Everything around him is disintegrating, but it’s because of his own doing. In solitude, Castile weighs his life’s decisions and how they’ve impacted him and stunted his ambitions. No one sees his disdain and regret. No one sees what other wars he endures internally. He won’t allow them to.
And so he doesn’t move as Sabra inches closer, hesitant in nature, and leans her cheek against his. Their eyes close to relive the memories they forged while their skins touch without anger for the first time in months. A weighted sigh escapes Castile in this moment before opening his eyes to watch Sabra peel away with defeat in her eyes. ”I know,” it’s the only thing he can muster to say, aware that their boys have grown and that she needs to take a step away from this as much as he does. Mirroring her, Castile backs away but his wings remain comfortably tucked against his sides. ”Safe travels,” he mutters, his voice low and his stare intense as he watches her turn and take flight. With a deep breath, he turns away and vanishes in the palm forest.
But he isn’t. He didn’t win. Instead, he compromised and allowed himself to succumb to a predatory way of life. It’s restrained to a degree, yes, but he remains fairly unpredictable with a heated temper and insatiable hunger. For her safety (and here, he glances at the scar he left her) it’s best to loosen his grip on her, even as much as he hates losing power.
Everything around him is disintegrating, but it’s because of his own doing. In solitude, Castile weighs his life’s decisions and how they’ve impacted him and stunted his ambitions. No one sees his disdain and regret. No one sees what other wars he endures internally. He won’t allow them to.
And so he doesn’t move as Sabra inches closer, hesitant in nature, and leans her cheek against his. Their eyes close to relive the memories they forged while their skins touch without anger for the first time in months. A weighted sigh escapes Castile in this moment before opening his eyes to watch Sabra peel away with defeat in her eyes. ”I know,” it’s the only thing he can muster to say, aware that their boys have grown and that she needs to take a step away from this as much as he does. Mirroring her, Castile backs away but his wings remain comfortably tucked against his sides. ”Safe travels,” he mutters, his voice low and his stare intense as he watches her turn and take flight. With a deep breath, he turns away and vanishes in the palm forest.
castile
@[Sabra]