12-12-2018, 11:53 AM
and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
Something rises inside him when she darkly chuckles – pride? Relief? – and he matches it with a wolfish grin of his own. The look in her silver eyes confirms that she has not only embraced it, but has undeniably merged with its prowess. It is as great a part of her as she is of it. Her demeanor conveys her precarious nature which livens his soul in a way it never has before. His entire being is alight, his mismatched eyes gleaming as they dance from mother to child, savoring this moment. ”I’m not like most men,” he confirms in a voice similar to a growl. It rumbles across the edges of his throat, a shadowed grin lifting the corners of his mouth. ”Both of her parents have blood on their hands,” the self-loathing he carried with the memory lifts from his shoulders, dissipating.
”She will one day be dangerous, too,” and while he debates whether he wants their offspring to swim in blood and gore, he concludes that no child of theirs could ever be meek.
The precious child – so innocent and pure – that curls at her mother’s feet today will have interesting shoes to fill tomorrow.
Castile’s own smile turns jagged in response to Sochi, his adrenaline coursing, his hunger roiling. ”I’ve only ever hunted alone,” because dragons do not need help, because he can so easily overpower deer and bear alike. He does not elaborate however, nor admit to what he can be – what he truly is. It’s too soon, he tells himself as his memories reflect on Sabra and Solace. Their eyes widened fearfully when his body cracked, groaned, and stretched. It wasn’t a display of awe and beauty. Blood dribbled along his skin as it ripped for scales to surface. Fortunately, the transition has become simpler and more fluid, but the danger still remains very much alive.
In front of Sochi, and in front of their daughter, he will tamper the primal monster until the time is right.
With a brief glance to Reia, he considers her for a moment. ”I’m sure she will need to learn hunting skills.” As a newborn, her teeth haven’t yet emerged, but Castile has an inkling that their child will be anything but fragile.
”She will one day be dangerous, too,” and while he debates whether he wants their offspring to swim in blood and gore, he concludes that no child of theirs could ever be meek.
The precious child – so innocent and pure – that curls at her mother’s feet today will have interesting shoes to fill tomorrow.
Castile’s own smile turns jagged in response to Sochi, his adrenaline coursing, his hunger roiling. ”I’ve only ever hunted alone,” because dragons do not need help, because he can so easily overpower deer and bear alike. He does not elaborate however, nor admit to what he can be – what he truly is. It’s too soon, he tells himself as his memories reflect on Sabra and Solace. Their eyes widened fearfully when his body cracked, groaned, and stretched. It wasn’t a display of awe and beauty. Blood dribbled along his skin as it ripped for scales to surface. Fortunately, the transition has become simpler and more fluid, but the danger still remains very much alive.
In front of Sochi, and in front of their daughter, he will tamper the primal monster until the time is right.
With a brief glance to Reia, he considers her for a moment. ”I’m sure she will need to learn hunting skills.” As a newborn, her teeth haven’t yet emerged, but Castile has an inkling that their child will be anything but fragile.
castile
@[Sochi]