08-27-2019, 10:27 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
Somehow, they found each other at the right time.
Neither of them were looking for love, not when they enjoyed freedom or just slipped from the hooked talons of a relationship. Their compatibility was magnetic, but never intentional. Their procreation was merely instinctual – passionate and dangerous, yes, but there were no strings to bind them – and he expected nothing in return for it all.
Yet, somehow, they stuck to each other like glue.
Hesitance kept them at arm’s length for what seemed like years, but the walls have slowly been chiseled away. Castile is unsure when it happened, when he decided to truly give himself to her, but when their eyes meet above the child, he cannot help to smile. It’s small, but as warm as the fire roiling in his gut. The circumstances suppress his jubilance at having her back in his arms. The rustling of the newborn shadows his eyes as he blinks away to regard it, but his mind continues to reel memories of his life since Sochi. He wants to shout it from the mountain peaks, the confession fluttering in his heart and mind, but then he reminds himself not now, not yet.
A sigh passes through him as she touches the curve of his jaw with her velvety lips. A slow blink closes the words behind a locked door. It’ll be for another day.
”Of course,” he whispers, his voice husky and deep as he moves to bury his face into her mane, wanting only to touch her every moment of every day. ”Let us go then,” with a lungful of her scent, he prepares to lead – and abandon – the child into the arms of a vicious world.
Neither of them were looking for love, not when they enjoyed freedom or just slipped from the hooked talons of a relationship. Their compatibility was magnetic, but never intentional. Their procreation was merely instinctual – passionate and dangerous, yes, but there were no strings to bind them – and he expected nothing in return for it all.
Yet, somehow, they stuck to each other like glue.
Hesitance kept them at arm’s length for what seemed like years, but the walls have slowly been chiseled away. Castile is unsure when it happened, when he decided to truly give himself to her, but when their eyes meet above the child, he cannot help to smile. It’s small, but as warm as the fire roiling in his gut. The circumstances suppress his jubilance at having her back in his arms. The rustling of the newborn shadows his eyes as he blinks away to regard it, but his mind continues to reel memories of his life since Sochi. He wants to shout it from the mountain peaks, the confession fluttering in his heart and mind, but then he reminds himself not now, not yet.
A sigh passes through him as she touches the curve of his jaw with her velvety lips. A slow blink closes the words behind a locked door. It’ll be for another day.
”Of course,” he whispers, his voice husky and deep as he moves to bury his face into her mane, wanting only to touch her every moment of every day. ”Let us go then,” with a lungful of her scent, he prepares to lead – and abandon – the child into the arms of a vicious world.
castile
@[sochi]