02-05-2020, 03:13 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
Castile’s neck arches as he inches back, allotting her personal space now that he has lured her with schemes and plans to continue expanding their borders. There’s time for her to mull it over, to take the grand gesture and take a piece in this grand endeavor. It will benefit them all, he tells himself with eyes bright enough to reflect his ambitious and excited demeanor. Lepis doesn’t disagree nor does she offer an alternative to his plans. Accepting her as a willing participant, he grins. There are no words, just a nod of eager acknowledgement before casting his eyes toward the distant horizon. Their future lies ahead, but Castile understands that soon, his reign will end. He must leave a legacy, a pathway to continued greatness.
He must.
His dreamy, far-off stare concludes with an abrupt blink brought about by a question that rips him from his thoughts. A breath catches in his throat, but Castile waits an additional few seconds until the surprise wipes from his face before turning to look at Lepis.
She meets him with an eyebrow raise.
Castile’s lips purse tightly together before he finally exhales, his body slumping. ”Yeah. I fucked up,” the statement is simple, the confession bleak as he weighs the repercussions. ”Oceane will be a wonderful mother, I have no doubt, but the kid won’t have a dad after Sochi gets a hold of me.” A feeble attempt at humor, especially since his alter self is rather formidable. It was a realization that hit him immediately after, but it was too late by that point, and his actions were too far gone and committed. Swallowing, Castile attempts to reel back what inner strength he has to confront the situation, to speak of it. ”I just---“ but he cuts himself off, unable to offer an explanation. Nothing can make it sound better or less unfair to Sochi, his own wife.
He must.
His dreamy, far-off stare concludes with an abrupt blink brought about by a question that rips him from his thoughts. A breath catches in his throat, but Castile waits an additional few seconds until the surprise wipes from his face before turning to look at Lepis.
She meets him with an eyebrow raise.
Castile’s lips purse tightly together before he finally exhales, his body slumping. ”Yeah. I fucked up,” the statement is simple, the confession bleak as he weighs the repercussions. ”Oceane will be a wonderful mother, I have no doubt, but the kid won’t have a dad after Sochi gets a hold of me.” A feeble attempt at humor, especially since his alter self is rather formidable. It was a realization that hit him immediately after, but it was too late by that point, and his actions were too far gone and committed. Swallowing, Castile attempts to reel back what inner strength he has to confront the situation, to speak of it. ”I just---“ but he cuts himself off, unable to offer an explanation. Nothing can make it sound better or less unfair to Sochi, his own wife.
castile
@[Lepis]