Nyxa
Castile is very good at disguising his emotions. His smile seems to her like an affectionate, brotherly thing, with no eager laugh to back it up. His stare; less aggressive the second time around. “Sometimes, it’s good to run away from reality for a bit.” This less-affronting version tells her, and much as she always has, Nyxa nods without contemplating her own feelings on the matter. It was easier to agree than to explain.
Besides, no one cared for her opinions or thoughts. All her life she’s been a second-string player, Hod somewhere close on the sidelines. It would only shock her to find another man who actually listened to their female counterparts.
But she’s being bitter, now, and nobody likes a harpy. “It doesn’t have to be aimless,” She offers, inspiration painting her features in a bright glow and turning her ears directly forward, “Escort me to the mountain, Sir Castile?” She hums playfully, the tune of her high soprano falsely mocking a debonair accent. “I would be -” Nyxa says with her eyes closed, quick to sweep her neck into a fine bow, “- greatly indebted to you, m’lord.”
And then she pops upright again, as comfortable as she would be if she were home and surrounded by her family. Castile is eerily easy to get along with.
“Seriously, though, I could use a strong arm.” The seamare sighs, her dark green mane trembling softly with the action. It takes everything within her not to turn and flee when, at last, her gaze alights on his - seeking an answer before he speaks - and she sees the hollow loneliness there, carving him out from the inside. Instinct wars with kindness, but her better nature wins out. The Ischian native is too gentle for her own good.
“Am I asking for too much?” She whispers.
-I'm sailing right behind, like a bridge over troubled water-