09-09-2018, 07:33 PM
Castile stands placidly, drinking in the sight of Scorch as she does the same. He has grown so much since they met. He is no longer the gangly colt shadowing his mother’s every step, keeping his mouth pursed shut in observation. Back then, his conversations and relevance was minimal; what place did a young boy have in a matriarchal society?
He has since found his voice, but his place and purpose are still fickle things.
”Maybe just a couple,” he jests, knowing well that it has been almost a decade since he was born in the cave during a storm. It has been years since he last saw his own parents, or even his siblings. Isobell, he reminisces, and her sweet grin and curiosity. Admittedly, he misses them and wishes they were tucked away in the caves still, springing out to greet him. Alas, the days he has spent here has thus far brimmed with solitude. The family he had and loved has disappeared; they no longer exist except in his memories.
But Castile tries desperately to suppress what has only upset him lately, instead trying to focus on why, exactly, he is here.
A shrug ripples through his muscular shoulders as he gropes for answers to offer her. As mother mentioned, Scorch is blunt, but this is something he is well-accustomed to. It doesn’t deter him at all. Actually, she reminds him of where he has come from and what he has strayed from lately. She, like his mother and father, are strong-willed warriors. How has he become so weak? ”Well, I can’t seem to stay away.” It’s an initially vague answer as he reflects back on his accomplishments, or lack thereof. A sigh passes his lips, but then he half-heartedly chuckles. ”Hyaline and Loess never brought me joy like Nerine. Even being a Regent was lame in a place I didn’t care much for.”
And then, on impulse, he confesses, ”I’ve fucked up and this is an escape.”
He has since found his voice, but his place and purpose are still fickle things.
”Maybe just a couple,” he jests, knowing well that it has been almost a decade since he was born in the cave during a storm. It has been years since he last saw his own parents, or even his siblings. Isobell, he reminisces, and her sweet grin and curiosity. Admittedly, he misses them and wishes they were tucked away in the caves still, springing out to greet him. Alas, the days he has spent here has thus far brimmed with solitude. The family he had and loved has disappeared; they no longer exist except in his memories.
But Castile tries desperately to suppress what has only upset him lately, instead trying to focus on why, exactly, he is here.
A shrug ripples through his muscular shoulders as he gropes for answers to offer her. As mother mentioned, Scorch is blunt, but this is something he is well-accustomed to. It doesn’t deter him at all. Actually, she reminds him of where he has come from and what he has strayed from lately. She, like his mother and father, are strong-willed warriors. How has he become so weak? ”Well, I can’t seem to stay away.” It’s an initially vague answer as he reflects back on his accomplishments, or lack thereof. A sigh passes his lips, but then he half-heartedly chuckles. ”Hyaline and Loess never brought me joy like Nerine. Even being a Regent was lame in a place I didn’t care much for.”
And then, on impulse, he confesses, ”I’ve fucked up and this is an escape.”
@[Scorch]