10-08-2018, 02:18 PM
The solitude has settled the fire pouring through his veins. Every seething muscle has been soothed by the ebbing tide as he stands chest-deep in its current. With his eyes cast out thoughtfully, Castile reflects on Sabra, and on Santana and the girl. Emotions swirled in a turbulent storm. There was no coming back from it, the fire had ignited and exploded.
He didn’t want that, not for their first meeting.
Perhaps, he should have expected it. Santana has a monster lingering within him as Castile does. Mastering it was the trouble.
Easily enough, the minutes slipped seamlessly into an hour before Castile escaped the grasp of the ocean. With his mind slipping into tranquility, he is better able to address his son when he unexpectedly arrived. He would have been prepared and on the defensive prior to his self-induced mediation, but the lull of the waves tampers the heat in his blood. Blinking thoughtfully, Castile truly drinks in the sight of his son this time, no longer concerned with an emotionally-brimming shift. ”Yes,” he finally answers after a long enough consideration of the transpired events, ”you could have.” With a shake of his head, Castile pushes away the possibility of ever seeing Sabra crumpled, lifeless, on the beach.
For a few breaths, he concentrates on the sand underfoot as it dampens from the water dripping from his stomach and chest. This is the moment he has been looking forward to. Finally, he is speaking with his son – or, has the opportunity to – so why are words failing him?
When his voice does finally rise from the silence, it’s stern like that of a concerned father – a tone fitting for him, truly. ”We underestimate how dangerous we can be,” and although he warned Sabra and Solace he still couldn’t fathom what he was entirely. ”I almost killed someone, too.” A regret he has buried deep in his conscious, never wanting to revisit it. But her scars, he remembers, are puckered and remind him of his faults and failures.
He didn’t want that, not for their first meeting.
Perhaps, he should have expected it. Santana has a monster lingering within him as Castile does. Mastering it was the trouble.
Easily enough, the minutes slipped seamlessly into an hour before Castile escaped the grasp of the ocean. With his mind slipping into tranquility, he is better able to address his son when he unexpectedly arrived. He would have been prepared and on the defensive prior to his self-induced mediation, but the lull of the waves tampers the heat in his blood. Blinking thoughtfully, Castile truly drinks in the sight of his son this time, no longer concerned with an emotionally-brimming shift. ”Yes,” he finally answers after a long enough consideration of the transpired events, ”you could have.” With a shake of his head, Castile pushes away the possibility of ever seeing Sabra crumpled, lifeless, on the beach.
For a few breaths, he concentrates on the sand underfoot as it dampens from the water dripping from his stomach and chest. This is the moment he has been looking forward to. Finally, he is speaking with his son – or, has the opportunity to – so why are words failing him?
When his voice does finally rise from the silence, it’s stern like that of a concerned father – a tone fitting for him, truly. ”We underestimate how dangerous we can be,” and although he warned Sabra and Solace he still couldn’t fathom what he was entirely. ”I almost killed someone, too.” A regret he has buried deep in his conscious, never wanting to revisit it. But her scars, he remembers, are puckered and remind him of his faults and failures.