04-05-2019, 09:21 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
Loess continues to thrive and entice many from the outside, surrounding lands. They arrive at the borders, itching to learn what secrets are embedded in the rocky hills. Few, in contrast, have abandoned what first Wolfbane then Vulgaris built.
Nonetheless, Loess is brimming with life.
There are fewer restful days as their borders entice newcomers from different directions. Castile, his senses piqued defensively, feeds himself with scents and voices and sights. There’s a scattered mix of familiar and unknown, those being foreign only temporary as he stores them away to find later. What grabs his attention, from his perch on a knoll, is the sand-colored male edging toward the invisible margins of Loess. An odd one, Castile considers with a tilt of his head when his eyes trace the dual horns and forked tail. Although not of dragon blood, he is something interestingly unique that spurs and incites action.
The trek is brief. While the stranger descends, Castile is upon him from the ground, meeting him at the border with curiosity settling across his face. Another lungful of air is swallowed to confirm the unfamiliarity of the male except for the faint taste of Nerine on his skin. Although the northern kingdom will forever hold a piece of Castile’s heart, it is no longer home nor the place he remembers. Mother’s reign ended a decade ago, setting the platform for her successors just as Naga did prior. ”Hello,” he offers, softened merely by the male’s origination, ”What brings you to Loess?” His gaze cannot help to still trace along the oddities while he, himself, shows nothing of his true nature. Even his wings – once a constant thing – have disappeared in this natural body.
He almost appears harmless except for the steely and unyielding look in his mismatched eyes. ”I’m Castile.”
Nonetheless, Loess is brimming with life.
There are fewer restful days as their borders entice newcomers from different directions. Castile, his senses piqued defensively, feeds himself with scents and voices and sights. There’s a scattered mix of familiar and unknown, those being foreign only temporary as he stores them away to find later. What grabs his attention, from his perch on a knoll, is the sand-colored male edging toward the invisible margins of Loess. An odd one, Castile considers with a tilt of his head when his eyes trace the dual horns and forked tail. Although not of dragon blood, he is something interestingly unique that spurs and incites action.
The trek is brief. While the stranger descends, Castile is upon him from the ground, meeting him at the border with curiosity settling across his face. Another lungful of air is swallowed to confirm the unfamiliarity of the male except for the faint taste of Nerine on his skin. Although the northern kingdom will forever hold a piece of Castile’s heart, it is no longer home nor the place he remembers. Mother’s reign ended a decade ago, setting the platform for her successors just as Naga did prior. ”Hello,” he offers, softened merely by the male’s origination, ”What brings you to Loess?” His gaze cannot help to still trace along the oddities while he, himself, shows nothing of his true nature. Even his wings – once a constant thing – have disappeared in this natural body.
He almost appears harmless except for the steely and unyielding look in his mismatched eyes. ”I’m Castile.”
castile