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  • Beqanna

    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


    do you feel like a young god? castile
    #1
    if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

    He had slept overnight on the shoreline of his crystalline lake in the same spot he had found Ciri last year, beaten and battered and fresh out of the Underneath. Too broken to cry anymore, the young stallion had lain there with his gilded head in the mud and his dull amber eyes gazing out, unseeing, over the moon-washed lake. Eventually he had found sleep, though even that reprieve from reality had been marred by a dream of his starry-eyed girl laughing in his face as she pressed her frame lovingly to Castile's side. A real dragon, unlike him.

    The dawn air is cold and fog drifts lazily over Hyaline's lake. He is no longer laying half in the water, awaiting demise, but is instead heading south, towards the River. Bile roils in his stomach at the thought of today's task ─ as much as he wants to find the mare who'd harmed Ciri, as much as he wants to avenge his love's injuries, the gilded stallion cannot shake the flashes of Castile nurturing her, touching her... loving her. Amet had seen the way they looked at each other the day Castile had returned to Hyaline, but he had trusted his akmar.

    And he had trusted his friend.

    With the betrayal on the forefront of his mind, Amet breaks over the border of his home and spots the River. His nostrils flare to test the scents, searching for Ciri's and any that may mingle with hers, fighting the acidic feeling that rises when he finds Castile's scent, as well.

    His teeth clench coldly, but he continues on with a dead stare in his eyes and defeat on his face.
    Amet


    @[Castile]
    Reply
    #2
    Castile knew it would only be a matter of time. He has been glancing often to the border, waiting until the gilded king crested a hill or broke through the treeline. He could have fled back to Loess or even to a reclusive lifestyle in the caves of Nerine, but yet he remained here. With the river babbling alongside him, Castile placidly bides his time and stands in the dappled sunlight to retain any warmth possible. Winter is his least favorite season, but both the river and Loess provide little shelter from the blistering winds. It brings his gaze drifting toward the northern shore where Nerine’s peninsula juts out. It croons gently to him, enticing him with the caves where he could find shelter and let himself become numb with the guilt and pain of his decisions.

    But something roots him here. When his gut lurches to return home, his legs freeze in place. For a heartbeat, he wonders why, but then an inhalation of the frigid air confirms what he has been truthfully expecting but not hoping for.

    There is a bitterness etched on Amet’s face, his jaws clenched together in frustration. Even from here, Castile can see the rope-like muscles contracting. There is a pain, but also a fire, burning in his friend’s eyes that he has never before seen. Knowing what looms, Castile pivots and continues to steadily breathe until the Hyaline King approaches. Their eyes hold for one, two, heartbeats, before he says, ”Hello, Amet,” in an amiable enough manner as to not betray the discomfort that is already leeching into him.


    Reply
    #3
    if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

    He's a man on a mission, determined to discover the identity of Ciri's attacker, and determined to do so quickly. He does not want to dwell on their conversation, their relationship, nor her relationship with Castile. He wants today to be done and over with, this task complete, so that he may return to Hyaline and to his solitude. There's a hard rock in his gut that refuses to leave, carrying all of his pain and suffering along with it. He represses it as best he can, though separating himself from his sorrow is much harder than he had expected.

    It drags him down when all he wants to do is leave it behind, to forget it. To run.

    The gilded stallion considers this option for a moment ─ he had fled from the Dunes and it had been easy to do, even as a yearling. It would be easier now with no family to worry about. He could not regret leaving when there is nothing to leave behind. But no, that option will not do, either. There is Hyaline to consider, and those who call it home. He is no longer a child. He is an adult. He is a king.

    His self-reminder pushes him further towards the River. Towards the scent of Ciri. Towards the familiar tobiano frame that has appeared just to the side of the riverbed. Amet's chest burns as he nears Castile, curious whether the winged stallion had waited here for Ciri to return after she had come to find him... to tell him of her feelings.

    He wonders if they had planned to run away together. Castile had dropped his casual hint to her, hadn't he? Conveniently mentioning the River, his own lack of home. The gilded stallion wants to yell at him ─ I'm not blind! I'm not stupid! He wants to plead ─ Can't you see that I love her? Can't you see that I just want to be happy?

    He does neither of those things, instead lets himself feel insulted by the casual greeting Nayl's son has gifted him with. Amet's jaw clenches and he forces himself to turn his amber eyes away from the other stallion, instead surveying their surroundings as an excuse not to look at Castile. "Hello," he responds tersely before swinging his golden eyes back to meet the mismatched ones of his... friend. "Who hurt her? Do you know?" he questions flatly, in no particular mood to spend time bonding with the dragon-shifter.
    Amet


    @[Castile]
    Reply
    #4
    Castile expected this, but to be living it is something entirely different. His gut and heart wrenches uncomfortably as Amet replies tersely before looking away. A hesitant glance finds a broken branch threatening to fall from the tree. It almost hover, trapped by the many fingers of its brethren. For a long, heated moment, Castile only stares at that and nothing more. Amet, too, acts distracted although their minds scream the same thing and squirm with the tension of the air between them.

    Amet breaks the silence, however, Castile isn’t quite certain if he finds it preferable to the quiet. As the rope-like muscles of his shoulders contract, he gropes for an answer. The gilded king’s eyes find him again just as the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

    One deep breath, then two.

    ”No,” he admits with a pained sigh, his eyes darkening, ”I wouldn’t be standing here if I did.” It hurts him – no, anger him – that he doesn’t yet know what happened, or why. He wants vengeance; he would want it if it happened to anyone he cared for, but he is at a loss. It seems, however, Amet plans to take it into his hands, to take control of the venture and bring safety to his precious Ciri. A low grumble reverberates through him as he inches backward, his gaze narrowing underneath his forelock. The truth is banging at the bars of its cage, and yet Castile hesitates to speak of it even as he sees the fire blazing in his friend’s – former friend? – expression.

    Another long breath as he musters the strength to confront the issue, unable to bring himself to hide or avoid it. He isn’t afraid nor is he weak.

    ”She loves you, you know,” he finally says with a shrug. He half-expects the stallion to scoff at him and turn away as though the words are sludge. ”I didn’t know—“ he begins, but pauses, and changes his direction, ”Nothing happened. I walked her halfway to Hyaline and left.”




    @[Amet]
    Reply
    #5
    if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

    The awkward, tense silence between them seems to stretch for an eternity. It would be easier not to have this conversation, to forget entirely that he had intended to find Castile. But the youth stallion is sick of thinking about running. He will not run. And he decides in that moment that he needs to remember exactly who and what he is.

    "Okay," he says with finality as the dragon-shifter answers his question. A dead end. His lips twitch into a frown, breaking the neutrality of his facade ─ of course it would not be that easy to find her attacker. Why would it be? The gilded king tightens his muscles and shifts his weight as if to pivot and leave when Castile's voice breaks the silence once more.

    She loves you, you know.

    Amet's ears twitch as he turns his gold-flecked eyes back to the painted stallion, locking him with a hard gaze. He doesn't offer response, biting his own tongue as he notices the look on Castile's face. As if he wants to add more.

    Castile starts and then stops, catching his words. The falsity goes unfinished and Amet raises a brow at the tobiano stallion with a curiosity that is twinged with a hint of respect. "Thank you," he says finally, his tone still cold but not as terse, "for making sure she made it back safely." For not insulting his intelligence by lying. For not pretending that there had been nothing to worry about.

    "Let me know if you hear any word of who could have done this," he requests as he turns, moving further south and effectively severing their conversation.
    Amet


    @[Castile] - So so so so sorry for the wait. It's been so busy lately. I'm going to have Amet drop by Loess to see Castile soon.
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