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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    amet, anyone;
    #11

    Ciri

    They are all walking a fine line, playing a strange game as they try to hide their thoughts and fail miserably. Castile’s light comment about Tang makes her smile faintly, relaxing through tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding. He ruffles his leathery wings in a cloud of dust, something softening the hard ridges of his face when he looks to her. A gaze she doesn't miss. Just as she doesn’t miss the way the warmth fades from Amet’s eyes and the way his jaw tightens.

    Her throat constricts with the rush of guilt that stirs within her smokey breast. Her own smile wavers slightly, hesitation in the silver swirls of her eyes. Disappointment that she may not know more of Castile or see him again. It’s there in the depths of silver when she looks to the dragon shifter but gone when she looks to her scaled consort, pushing it down and trying to retain the lightness of the conversation. Trying to keep them all from souring.

    ”A dragon?” She asks curiously, wondering if Amet could do the same. For a moment she allows herself a brief respite from the tension as she laughs lightly, flicking her tail briefly against her hocks. ”What a sight that would be to see two dragons roam Hyaline.” Teasing gently but her laughter dies away as Amet turns his head to the lake. They speak of Castile’s sister, of him visiting the river. She doesn’t miss they way his gaze lingers on her, on the unspoken invitation that makes butterflies flutter lightly in her stomach.

    ”Well hopefully you will come visit us soon again. I'm not quite up for long trips yet or I would love to go with you both.” She starts slowly, gesturing to her ravaged body with an apologetic grin. Tucking  away the information he had offered to her but not knowing exactly what she would do with it. Her strength had returned enough that she longed to explore again but she did not want to jeopardize her King's feelings. There’s a light tremor beneath the surface of Amet’s scaled shoulder as his muscles clench. Subtle enough to her metallic eye as he speaks of the river and looks in it’s direction.

    Quietly she moves closer to him, to press her muzzle to his throat in a soft gesture of peace. ”You two should catch up.” She murmurs softly against his skin, pulling away only when he is focused back on her. ”You can tell me everything when you get back.” A soft cue that she would stay here for him. Reminding him that she said she would. While her mind is a whirlwind, her affection for the gilded stallion is real and raw. She would never do anything intentionally to hurt him.

    all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was



    @[Castile] @[Amet]
    #12
    Castile notes the subtle change in their breaths, their eyes raking one another more hesitantly now. They’re treading on eggshells now, but he fumbles over the reasons why. Ciri had joined him, welcomed him, and she started at the way Amet had pressed his lips to her skin as though it was unfamiliar and surprising. What originally appeared as mere toy ownership of a king has fogged into something more complex. A look back over his shoulder allows Castile to hide the uncertainty etching across his face; it’s replaced by amiable agreement upon hearing his sibling’s name. ”Yes, Isobell,” the taste of his sister’s name is honey on his tongue, a blanket wrapped around him during the coldest nights.

    To combat the tension rising among them and to mask the churning of his stomach, Castile focuses his energy on Isobell and lets her name drown his every thought. It helps to muster the ability to smile warmly despite the hardening of Amet’s gaze. It softens his handsome, chiseled face. ”Absolutely,” he responds, not questioning how or when Amet has seen his sibling. Mostly the Nerinians have set their eyes on the princess; mother has been far too protective to let the girl stray far. Perhaps, during the period of their alliance, Isobell saw the gilded stallion while he visited the shoreline of Nerine, her body still fastened to mother’s side.

    Castile is still looking at Amet when Ciri declines joining them, admitting to a weakness and fatigue that eventually draws his mismatched eyes to her stormy silver. His head bobs and he forces himself to pleasantly watch as she exchanges tenderness with Amet, his boyish grin still present though wavering as he shrugs. ”A shame you can’t join us,” but he is piecing everything together to understand why, ”I think the two of you would get along well.” Truthfully, he wonders if Isobell has friends of the same gender. Surely she has Ivar – she is familiar with her brother’s friends – but he hasn’t questioned if there is anyone else that she has opened herself to. The thought distracts him momentarily before he steps slowly away from Ciri and Amet. ”She’s a beautiful girl,” the comment is ambiguous at first – is he referring to Isobell or Ciri? – but he clarifies with a cool humor in his voice, ”So don’t get any ideas otherwise I will have to hurt you.” An airy chuckle slips from his lips and he nods his head before turning to leave Hyaline.





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