04-19-2019, 10:38 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
To be unheard, to be unknown, is not necessarily a bad thing. As easily as Roma slipped his notice on the Island, so can she among a cluster of others. If she wanted, Roma could be a fly on the wall – a vessel of information.
Castile regards her in this sense, observing her while cursing himself for being oblivious to the watchful pairs of eyes that day when the angel’s blood touched his lips. Among the crowd, she watched the brutality unravel and the resignation pursue. The Island was his, albeit brief, before they overpowered the vote for himself. It would be suitable to watch them burn beneath his fire, scream and realize the mistake they made. The want for destruction – for revenge – is still there, thrumming in his steady heartbeats. Some mornings, Castile awakens wondering if too much time has passed, if the cluster of lavender fools still congest and pollute the sand.
Their time will come, just as it did for their lavender family member, Klaudius.
As angry as he wants to be, Castile cannot penalize her for defending family. His did the same, just as he would for his own kin.
Amusement flashes across his eyes when her rebuttal permeates the warm air between them. He humors her with a lopsided grin and bob of his head. ”I don’t ask for much in my own kingdom,” he demands, he takes, ”So, I suggest telling me your name otherwise you can see your way out.” Truthfully, she has captured his attention and it would be a pity to see her dismissed from Loess. As a guttural rumble resonates through him, Castile inches closer, his chest nearly brushing against her shoulder. ”Or,” he offers as he remembers Starsin’s capabilities to retrieve answers, ”perhaps, we will just keep you here to ourselves.” But she is willing – her smile, her chuckle, her statement, says it all.
Castile regards her in this sense, observing her while cursing himself for being oblivious to the watchful pairs of eyes that day when the angel’s blood touched his lips. Among the crowd, she watched the brutality unravel and the resignation pursue. The Island was his, albeit brief, before they overpowered the vote for himself. It would be suitable to watch them burn beneath his fire, scream and realize the mistake they made. The want for destruction – for revenge – is still there, thrumming in his steady heartbeats. Some mornings, Castile awakens wondering if too much time has passed, if the cluster of lavender fools still congest and pollute the sand.
Their time will come, just as it did for their lavender family member, Klaudius.
As angry as he wants to be, Castile cannot penalize her for defending family. His did the same, just as he would for his own kin.
Amusement flashes across his eyes when her rebuttal permeates the warm air between them. He humors her with a lopsided grin and bob of his head. ”I don’t ask for much in my own kingdom,” he demands, he takes, ”So, I suggest telling me your name otherwise you can see your way out.” Truthfully, she has captured his attention and it would be a pity to see her dismissed from Loess. As a guttural rumble resonates through him, Castile inches closer, his chest nearly brushing against her shoulder. ”Or,” he offers as he remembers Starsin’s capabilities to retrieve answers, ”perhaps, we will just keep you here to ourselves.” But she is willing – her smile, her chuckle, her statement, says it all.
castile
@[Roma]