03-01-2019, 03:47 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,” he murmurs his name easily enough, quickly so that it can marinade in her mind and coat the inner workings of her thoughts. He lets it caress her ears tenderly, making her want to play with it on her tongue. A lopsided grin continues to lift the sharp edges of his face as he notices the ease of his lure. Kensa is close – so close – to his skin, breathing him in, observing him. The urge to lean into her prickles where her breath had fleetingly been, and he wonders if that curiosity is mutual. As arrogant as he’s become, Castile wonders if he is a forbidden fruit. Hyaline’s Primarch has curled into and coupled with a cat, but not a dragon. Not many can say they have.
(Arrogant. So arrogant)
He does not linger on the wonderment of her soft flesh against his own. Litotes crawls beneath his thoughts, hovering, pressing. What information he has provided was enough to draw the monster from his rocky precipice. The taste of knowledge is there, just barely outside of his reach but creeping slowly closer. His want for confirmation (for chaos) far outweighs the touch of another woman or the prospect of another child.
The name of an old memory reminds him and pulls him from his harrowing ideas. Recognition flashes across his expression, surprise stitching his brows. ”Amet?” Their history is closely tied. They were friends, childhood companions, but fate reeled them apart into different directions. Funny how everything comes full circle. First Loess, now Amet. ”Interesting how quickly your Queens changed their mind for Hyaline, all because of a steal.” It fascinates him probably more than it should, but what the Caretakers have gained as an enemy could help forge a path of friendship for Loess. Change the tides, Castile pushed. Make them regret their decision.
Litotes is ambitious, and Castile wants to feed that monster, to be the hand guiding the lion’s path at no charge.
His pleasure would simply be watching the East’s power teeter.
While she doesn’t offer an apology, she at least expresses a sliver of remorse and of knowing. Castile’s eyes glisten. He pieces things together and mapping this interesting puzzle. ”… and instead, you found disappointment.” His voice flattens as his gaze traces down her injured leg, noting the clotted blood in the punctures and dried rivulets reaching toward the grass. ”I can imagine the second Primarch wanting to check on her cohort,” he had spared them only a glance that day, uninterested in watching or listening, ”Or lover.” He shrugs then absentmindedly looks toward the mountains behind him – the alpine border between their homes – before returning his eyes to her. ”So confirm this for me. You, my dear, are Kensa, the Primarch that isn’t going anywhere.” He could touch her now, reward himself for guessing correctly, but he harbors his primal instincts. ”Would you, or the East, even take him back?”
(Arrogant. So arrogant)
He does not linger on the wonderment of her soft flesh against his own. Litotes crawls beneath his thoughts, hovering, pressing. What information he has provided was enough to draw the monster from his rocky precipice. The taste of knowledge is there, just barely outside of his reach but creeping slowly closer. His want for confirmation (for chaos) far outweighs the touch of another woman or the prospect of another child.
The name of an old memory reminds him and pulls him from his harrowing ideas. Recognition flashes across his expression, surprise stitching his brows. ”Amet?” Their history is closely tied. They were friends, childhood companions, but fate reeled them apart into different directions. Funny how everything comes full circle. First Loess, now Amet. ”Interesting how quickly your Queens changed their mind for Hyaline, all because of a steal.” It fascinates him probably more than it should, but what the Caretakers have gained as an enemy could help forge a path of friendship for Loess. Change the tides, Castile pushed. Make them regret their decision.
Litotes is ambitious, and Castile wants to feed that monster, to be the hand guiding the lion’s path at no charge.
His pleasure would simply be watching the East’s power teeter.
While she doesn’t offer an apology, she at least expresses a sliver of remorse and of knowing. Castile’s eyes glisten. He pieces things together and mapping this interesting puzzle. ”… and instead, you found disappointment.” His voice flattens as his gaze traces down her injured leg, noting the clotted blood in the punctures and dried rivulets reaching toward the grass. ”I can imagine the second Primarch wanting to check on her cohort,” he had spared them only a glance that day, uninterested in watching or listening, ”Or lover.” He shrugs then absentmindedly looks toward the mountains behind him – the alpine border between their homes – before returning his eyes to her. ”So confirm this for me. You, my dear, are Kensa, the Primarch that isn’t going anywhere.” He could touch her now, reward himself for guessing correctly, but he harbors his primal instincts. ”Would you, or the East, even take him back?”
castile
@[Kensa]