07-18-2019, 09:14 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
Another pacifist, another voice having scolded him for his decisions.
What if he listened to them all and cowered in the corner to allow for the world to trample him? What if he refused to exploit his own strength in fear of upsetting or harming others? Life would have taken him down an entirely different path. It would have beaten him and trampled him repeatedly. It isn’t in his nature to drag himself away from opposition; his is a son of iron and fire. But he warns his foes. Castile tries to deter those around him from rattling his cage’s bars, but they never seem to listen. Instead, they are fueled by the potential. They want to see him at his worst and break him down with guilt and the repercussions of his actions. They don’t consider that he warned them, that everything could have been avoided if they only listened.
But there are many on the outside looking in, the pacifists, that reprimand and question him when they only see the havoc he causes. They do not consider what led to that, what pulled the trigger.
Castile cannot expect them to understand. He cannot force their thoughts to change.
It crosses his mind if Aziz has reconsidered seeing as he still remains and constructs a shelter with a force bubbling from his own veins and muscles. From a short ways away, Castile observes the production and completion of the home before approaching with a relaxed but amiable expression. ”Fascinating work you can do,” there is warmth in his voice, but not at all the vehemence of fire. It’s kind, his compliment, and it’s accompanied by a languid grin as his eyes trace the rocks and entryway before glancing to the smoke and steam billowing from beneath. ”You’re making yourself comfortable then,” and here he focuses on Aziz, ”so will you be staying in Loess?” The man was so adamant to return to Sylva, to latch onto a sense of loyalty to a monarchy that didn’t deserve it. Castile didn’t object, allowing Aziz to follow his own ideas and plans. He would learn on his own what a mistake it was.
”What goals do you have for yourself?” The question is abrupt, stemming from Castile’s curiosity.
What if he listened to them all and cowered in the corner to allow for the world to trample him? What if he refused to exploit his own strength in fear of upsetting or harming others? Life would have taken him down an entirely different path. It would have beaten him and trampled him repeatedly. It isn’t in his nature to drag himself away from opposition; his is a son of iron and fire. But he warns his foes. Castile tries to deter those around him from rattling his cage’s bars, but they never seem to listen. Instead, they are fueled by the potential. They want to see him at his worst and break him down with guilt and the repercussions of his actions. They don’t consider that he warned them, that everything could have been avoided if they only listened.
But there are many on the outside looking in, the pacifists, that reprimand and question him when they only see the havoc he causes. They do not consider what led to that, what pulled the trigger.
Castile cannot expect them to understand. He cannot force their thoughts to change.
It crosses his mind if Aziz has reconsidered seeing as he still remains and constructs a shelter with a force bubbling from his own veins and muscles. From a short ways away, Castile observes the production and completion of the home before approaching with a relaxed but amiable expression. ”Fascinating work you can do,” there is warmth in his voice, but not at all the vehemence of fire. It’s kind, his compliment, and it’s accompanied by a languid grin as his eyes trace the rocks and entryway before glancing to the smoke and steam billowing from beneath. ”You’re making yourself comfortable then,” and here he focuses on Aziz, ”so will you be staying in Loess?” The man was so adamant to return to Sylva, to latch onto a sense of loyalty to a monarchy that didn’t deserve it. Castile didn’t object, allowing Aziz to follow his own ideas and plans. He would learn on his own what a mistake it was.
”What goals do you have for yourself?” The question is abrupt, stemming from Castile’s curiosity.
castile
@[Aziz]