05-04-2020, 09:10 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
This will bite him in the end. It won’t be in the future, but down the road, he can already see repercussions rising from his poor decisions. Then again, when has that stopped him?
No one will be hurt this time at least, or so he hopes, as he follows Nashua from a distance toward Taiga. Castile knows some of the trails, but he feigns shock and surprise as he drinks in the sight of the towering redwoods and pines. This is all so familiar. Another territory, another chapter of his life. Exhausted from his internal wars and of politics, Castile receded into the shadows to breathe for the first time in years, but here he is – thrusted back into the happenings of different lands.
True, he could have said no, but he finds himself enjoying Nash’s company. The young boy’s curiosity and vigor hooked the fallen King. Their conversation was light and skewed far from kingdom life. For the time, that’s what Castile wanted – needed – but he didn’t want it to end so soon, thus agreeing to follow him to Taiga.
Curiosity mounts as they weave through the grove toward a resounding voice that demands attention, though not unkindly. Blinking, Castile takes a place adjacent to Nash, observing him with nutmeg eyes before flickering them across the gathered faces. No one here would recognize his scent. Veiled in the coat of a chestnut, no one would recognize his face either. No wings, no draconic features, not even the telltale gold band across his muzzle is visible. To them all, he is a plain sorrel. To them, he is Rocky.
He dutifully listens and somehow manages to maintain a neutrality in his face even as his own name is dragged through mud (he expected this; they remember only from when he lost his mind, not of his greater deeds prior). Inching closer to Nashua, he reads the reactions across the group, but there is more defiance than support standing behind Elio. ”Taiga is already tied to Loess, so you would just be maintaining what was already established by prior to your mother’s rule,” he pauses to swallow, reminding himself to tread carefully. ”I’ve heard rumors that this new leader of Loess wants to unite other lands to her terms, like she wants to have control over everything. You admitting that she is your mother would just confirm her hold over Taiga, no? We would be her pawns?” Castile – Rocky? – tilts his head inquisitively and although his brash personality urges him to step forward, he decides to instead step unsurely back, his shoulder just barely brushing Nashua’s side.
A pause. A swallow. A sigh.
”I’m the new kid on the block. I don’t have a vote, but it’s food for thought for everyone here. It just sounds like some family-type dictatorship.” A shrug ripples through his shoulders, settling into his role and smiling sheepishly.
No one will be hurt this time at least, or so he hopes, as he follows Nashua from a distance toward Taiga. Castile knows some of the trails, but he feigns shock and surprise as he drinks in the sight of the towering redwoods and pines. This is all so familiar. Another territory, another chapter of his life. Exhausted from his internal wars and of politics, Castile receded into the shadows to breathe for the first time in years, but here he is – thrusted back into the happenings of different lands.
True, he could have said no, but he finds himself enjoying Nash’s company. The young boy’s curiosity and vigor hooked the fallen King. Their conversation was light and skewed far from kingdom life. For the time, that’s what Castile wanted – needed – but he didn’t want it to end so soon, thus agreeing to follow him to Taiga.
Curiosity mounts as they weave through the grove toward a resounding voice that demands attention, though not unkindly. Blinking, Castile takes a place adjacent to Nash, observing him with nutmeg eyes before flickering them across the gathered faces. No one here would recognize his scent. Veiled in the coat of a chestnut, no one would recognize his face either. No wings, no draconic features, not even the telltale gold band across his muzzle is visible. To them all, he is a plain sorrel. To them, he is Rocky.
He dutifully listens and somehow manages to maintain a neutrality in his face even as his own name is dragged through mud (he expected this; they remember only from when he lost his mind, not of his greater deeds prior). Inching closer to Nashua, he reads the reactions across the group, but there is more defiance than support standing behind Elio. ”Taiga is already tied to Loess, so you would just be maintaining what was already established by prior to your mother’s rule,” he pauses to swallow, reminding himself to tread carefully. ”I’ve heard rumors that this new leader of Loess wants to unite other lands to her terms, like she wants to have control over everything. You admitting that she is your mother would just confirm her hold over Taiga, no? We would be her pawns?” Castile – Rocky? – tilts his head inquisitively and although his brash personality urges him to step forward, he decides to instead step unsurely back, his shoulder just barely brushing Nashua’s side.
A pause. A swallow. A sigh.
”I’m the new kid on the block. I don’t have a vote, but it’s food for thought for everyone here. It just sounds like some family-type dictatorship.” A shrug ripples through his shoulders, settling into his role and smiling sheepishly.
castile
Current appearance: Sorrel chestnut with 4 stockings and a blaze. Plain and simple xD Nash knows him as Rocky.