12-30-2018, 07:43 PM
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
Castile doesn’t want to let her go now that she has returned. Isobell folds so sweetly into his side and brings to life the memories he had long since suppressed. For the moment – in this beautiful moment – he forgets the world and all the stress that has consumed him. Suddenly, his mind entirely clears except for the dreaminess that Isobell elicits when he draws in the familiarity of her scent. From an outsider’s perspective, they could look like lovers with their bodies so tightly intertwined and their lips brushing against each other in adoring kisses.
It’s enough to make even Ivar jealous.
But when Castile peers down at his sister, he sees her as a child romping through the shallows with the brightest of smiles stretched across her face. He sees her just barely behind him as they raced across Loess with sweat lathering their coats.
When he looks at Isobell, he sees happiness and love.
”Please don’t leave again,” in front of his peers Castile is fierce and stubborn, but he melts in front of his sister, ”I won’t be able to handle it.” His confession is spoken in a hushed tone, only for her to hear. ”I’ve been nothing more than a failure, but it all goes away when you’re with me. You’re my baby sister – you’re my strength. Our family is my inspiration.” He has only wanted to build what their parents had, but every opportunity has slipped through his fingers by his own doing. ”I need to just step back and get myself together. I need a touch of familial help.” Castile smiles then, gently, as Isobell glides her muzzle across his neck. Her touch is honeyed – so sweet, leaving him wanting more – and it pulls him close, unable to peel away from her even as his thoughts reel.
Live. Where does he live, she asks, and he takes pause to consider an answer. It isn’t an easy response. There have been twists and turns in his path, highs and lows, and numerous uncertainties. ”I’m not really sure,” he finally admits with a rippling shrug of his shoulders. ”I went back to Nerine, but then the plague hit and everything is disheveled. Nerine seems to be struggling with its grasp, like it’s slipping in this disarray. And anyways, a stallion cannot get very far in a, still, mostly matriarchal society.” A resigning sigh slips from him, lost on the wind. ”I’ll figure something out.” Over the months, he has been restless. There is more to be had. More to gain.
But what?
Castile’s mismatched eyes blink slowly before leveling again on Isobell, a lopsided grin slowly stretching across his lips. ”Maybe I can get you out of here and away from Ivar for a bit. He told me he killed you which resulted in your… change.” Isobell was always a beautiful girl so he didn’t think it possible for her to become more so. And while he had been okay with her transition, he admittedly bristled when Ivar confessed to first drowning her. ”And now you swim with whale and fish poop instead of flying the sky as a dragon.”
It’s enough to make even Ivar jealous.
But when Castile peers down at his sister, he sees her as a child romping through the shallows with the brightest of smiles stretched across her face. He sees her just barely behind him as they raced across Loess with sweat lathering their coats.
When he looks at Isobell, he sees happiness and love.
”Please don’t leave again,” in front of his peers Castile is fierce and stubborn, but he melts in front of his sister, ”I won’t be able to handle it.” His confession is spoken in a hushed tone, only for her to hear. ”I’ve been nothing more than a failure, but it all goes away when you’re with me. You’re my baby sister – you’re my strength. Our family is my inspiration.” He has only wanted to build what their parents had, but every opportunity has slipped through his fingers by his own doing. ”I need to just step back and get myself together. I need a touch of familial help.” Castile smiles then, gently, as Isobell glides her muzzle across his neck. Her touch is honeyed – so sweet, leaving him wanting more – and it pulls him close, unable to peel away from her even as his thoughts reel.
Live. Where does he live, she asks, and he takes pause to consider an answer. It isn’t an easy response. There have been twists and turns in his path, highs and lows, and numerous uncertainties. ”I’m not really sure,” he finally admits with a rippling shrug of his shoulders. ”I went back to Nerine, but then the plague hit and everything is disheveled. Nerine seems to be struggling with its grasp, like it’s slipping in this disarray. And anyways, a stallion cannot get very far in a, still, mostly matriarchal society.” A resigning sigh slips from him, lost on the wind. ”I’ll figure something out.” Over the months, he has been restless. There is more to be had. More to gain.
But what?
Castile’s mismatched eyes blink slowly before leveling again on Isobell, a lopsided grin slowly stretching across his lips. ”Maybe I can get you out of here and away from Ivar for a bit. He told me he killed you which resulted in your… change.” Isobell was always a beautiful girl so he didn’t think it possible for her to become more so. And while he had been okay with her transition, he admittedly bristled when Ivar confessed to first drowning her. ”And now you swim with whale and fish poop instead of flying the sky as a dragon.”
castile
@[Isobell]