04-03-2019, 03:43 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
Few things of importance escape Castile’s vigilant notice. With his eyes hungrily roving across the reaches of Loess, with pupils slit like a dragon’s, he watches. His ears drunkenly gulp the sounds of voices and birds. Scent reaches him, carried on a summer gale, and scratches against the lining of his nostrils. Most have been familiarized and are drenched in Loess’ potency; however, one rises above the others and stirs his gut. Fire immediately boils through his veins and revives Castile from a restful watch.
It’s unmistakable – the palm trees, the sand, the tropics – and unforgettable. When he initially breathes her in, she is heavily cloaked in the Island Resort. She is part of a memory that he hasn’t entirely let go. Anger and frustration has festered within him despite the crown laid on his head.
He won’t forget. He will never forget.
Draconic wings rip through skin, appearing at his whim to immediately take flight. Someone originating from the Island demands his immediate attention. He doesn’t stall, doesn’t bide his time. Gusts of wind tousle his metallic locks as he pursues the scent, his predatory instincts electrifying through his body until the sight of her reaches him. It isn’t Wallace, that much he knows. Nor is she one of the incestual purple clansmen.
No, she is different, yet still plucked from a sour memory.
His descent is swift and silent until his hooves touch down. While he considers retracting his wings, a reconsidering glance observes her own. ”What is someone from the Resort doing in these parts?” His voice crawls forward, as precarious as his nature as his eyes become lit by an inner flame. She wasn’t in support of him – he would remember – and so he assumes her an enemy, a questionable presence in Loess. ”Why shouldn’t I hurt you for trespassing?” He edges closer, a foreboding entity as his stare pierces into her, his muscles quivering in anticipation.
It’s unmistakable – the palm trees, the sand, the tropics – and unforgettable. When he initially breathes her in, she is heavily cloaked in the Island Resort. She is part of a memory that he hasn’t entirely let go. Anger and frustration has festered within him despite the crown laid on his head.
He won’t forget. He will never forget.
Draconic wings rip through skin, appearing at his whim to immediately take flight. Someone originating from the Island demands his immediate attention. He doesn’t stall, doesn’t bide his time. Gusts of wind tousle his metallic locks as he pursues the scent, his predatory instincts electrifying through his body until the sight of her reaches him. It isn’t Wallace, that much he knows. Nor is she one of the incestual purple clansmen.
No, she is different, yet still plucked from a sour memory.
His descent is swift and silent until his hooves touch down. While he considers retracting his wings, a reconsidering glance observes her own. ”What is someone from the Resort doing in these parts?” His voice crawls forward, as precarious as his nature as his eyes become lit by an inner flame. She wasn’t in support of him – he would remember – and so he assumes her an enemy, a questionable presence in Loess. ”Why shouldn’t I hurt you for trespassing?” He edges closer, a foreboding entity as his stare pierces into her, his muscles quivering in anticipation.
castile
@[Roma]