"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Time. Castile provided them both time to process before pursuing Mary, his curiosity guiding his steps toward her instead of Sinner. There is nothing more to be addressed between the two males. But the fallen Queen? There is more to her than meets the eye and her scent has coated his family like a weighted blanket. Every corner of his family seem to have crossed her path. But why?
While he anticipates her departure to be graceful and elegant, Castile heavily lumbers through the forests. Trees force his path to wind and twist, their branches groping blindly for his hot, summer-like skin. Fire burns in his veins, boiling his blood, and crackles in his mismatched eyes as they dart among the web of forest to finally find her.
The coniferous trees tower overhead to great heights that he spares a single glance toward before sharpening his attention on her. What boisterous footsteps led him here have since quieted as he takes the briefest of pauses to scrutinize every curve and every lock of hair. Their last meeting – in Loess, if he excludes their fleeting moments in the war – had been facetious. There was little to look at when she hugged Sinner so tightly and spat diplomacies down like it was soured food. In that time, Castile noted only her unscarred stature. She isn’t a fighter. Now, however, he tediously observes her until closing the space between them. They aren’t within reach; no, he dare not meddle with an enemy like that. He wants only to understand her, to understand her motives and plans.
Castile’s mouth opens to comment on her quick departure from Sylva, but he reconsiders and instead simply asks, ”Where will you go now?” Surely, there is a backup plan that she considered if the tide went against her wishes. ”I know you have connections,” his rumbling voice reverberates through his own bones as the words roll from his chest. Stepping around her, stalking, he searches for what he wants – confirmation – then draws to another halt. ”It won’t be with my sons, I hope, and I imagine you’ve run Valdis off already.” He doesn’t elaborate, knowing that his coat still desperately clings to remnants of Velk. Raul’s and Santana’s have long since faded with the seasons.
She had thought of all the ways to run away from beqanna. She could have followed Sinner, wherever it was he chose to go. Though her initial reaction was to flee beqanna, safely leaving Aries with Bane, she couldn't find herself to do it.
The once dapple queen had so much left to prove and running away wouldn't solve anything, something her father lacked. She had recently settled into the island resort with Ruinam, which was perfectly quiet for her.
Still she longed to see her autumn forest, it was dangerous to lurk to close in the moment. She had to settle for the nomad forest, though not as beautiful as Sylva its scenery was much more familiar than the resort.
She trailed peacefully, but not long until the stench of Castile run through her nares. A look of disgust appears on her maw but she quickly relaxes as she looks for the smug dragon. She knew she couldn't have avoided him forever, and perhaps this was the best scenery to run into him.
Surely he would have caught her scent as well, and she was not going to run from him. Instead she lingers closer to the scent until he is within view, the pair stopping a safe distance from one another. He looked different from the last time they met, older and more tired, but again creating a war and ruling will do that to you.
The dapple queen had freshly given birth, her last Sinner baby safely tucked in the resort. Her body still showing some baby weight which would normally be a thin slender frame. Her own gaze scanned over the stag, who seemed to have aged yet he is still as defined as the initial meeting.
Her gaze flutters to his as he speaks, he inquires an obvious question. It was always great to know where your enemy was hiding, but Tephra lands should have been the most obvious answer. Then again, she could have fleed to Bane who most likely would have taken her into his protection.
He begins to circle her, perhaps deciding his next move. Though she does not flinch even though her spine tingles with the preparation of an attack. She simply stands tall, allowing him to scan her. He continues to talk as he comes to a halt, this time he mentions his children which just brought back the disturbing memory that her children share his blood. Perhaps that is why he didn't try to kill her upon sight.
No, she responds to him. Raul has been long gone, barely knowing his child Daine. And dear Velk, the sweetest boy that was interested in her, of course she just couldn't accept his love and turned him away too much to run to in a time of need. And Valdis, the name brings a grin to her maw, the wench that she actually missed, it was fun having a little playmate.
She turns her head to match the black and white stags gaze, ahh Valdis, isn't her captor your friend? I simply thought you planned on her captivity to protect her from the war. She cocked an eye at him, though truly she didn't care, and thankfully her absence left Sinner open for Mary. I am staying in the resort for now, who have you chosen to fill my shoes? She snorts, curious to who will be living in her home now.
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
”Good,” he snarls, relieved that Mary will not find solace in the arms of his kin. He has already expressed his disapproval of the precarious situation Velk placed himself in by coupling with the Sylvan. It was in poor taste, but that isn’t enough to hide or forget the children borne of mischief and deceit. Castile wants to see them, his grandchildren, but he doesn’t yet demand that. His mind is still wrapping around her, memorizing every inch that his eyes drink in of her body and proud expression. Even now, with her crown and home ripped from her grasp, she is smug.
Part of him wants to be the reason she never smiles again.
Fire burns through his veins and dances within his gut, ready to explode forward, but with a heavy blink and glance away, Castile suppresses the primal urge. It lingers, of course, but is controlled.
When he finally looks at her again – it was only a few seconds of absentmindedly observing the trees – his broad head inclines and his shoulders ripple in a languid shrug. ”It wasn’t my doing, but I’m happy she was forced out of there in time.” He wanted her safe, but there wasn’t enough time to request of his allies to steal away his daughter. What they did was their own agenda. One day, he hopes, he will find Valdis again. In the meantime, he is pulled in every direction. Loess and its influence spreads each day, and he wants to stand on the frontline and address each obstacle that comes there way. So, why then, did he find Mary? She is a figment of Sylva’s past, but he knows that she will not melt into the shadows and disappear. Much to his dismay, she is too stubborn to cower.
Much to his dismay, she still poses an arrogant problem.
When he sees her and thinks of her, Sinner comes to mind. His daughter and sons come to mind. His grandchildren. Sochi.
A hmph unconsciously escapes when she confesses to finding refuge in the Resort. ”That was once mine, too,” he drawls with a disgruntled curl of his lip. Nothing of that place was a fond memory. It was immediately catastrophic. It was a mistake, but it eventually pushed him back to Loess where he quickly became King. Funny how the world works. ”You won’t be able to escape me, Mary, not entirely.” His voice freezes, turning cold and bitter as he edges closer with Sochi burning into his mind, reminding him. ”I could take you now. Break you; do as I please with you. I could wipe the smile from your face,” and there’s a spurring desire to, but when he breathes – his breath is of fire and brimstone – there is a subtle melting of his tone. ”But I am not like your dog. I don’t rape women like he does, and I will never stoop to his level.” He could never do it, no matter how angry or destructive he can be.
So, in place of putting her down and forcing her beneath him, Castile lunges to bite her neck with his jagged teeth that suddenly poke out from underneath his lips. He wants to taste her blood, to puncture and rip an area of her crest. It will be her lesson, her souvenir for having stepped into his way like the others. Like Sinner, like Solace, Krigare, and Sabra. ”That will be your small reminder,” he hisses once he has retracted with his lips stained scarlet, ”and I suggest you do not betray my trust again.” It will one day scar, the punctures and abrasions, and she will wear it proudly because that is simply who she is.
castile
@[Mary]
Right back at you lo lb. A novel. If you don't want her bitten, you can just ignore that last little bit
The tension was building in the stag, and she could feel it. She could almost feel the fire that grew within him, every word he spewed filled with hatred.
He claims to not be responsible for Valdis' steal, but she isn't sure she believes him. It just seemed to good of a timing to accept his story. Instead she cocks an eye at him, yes, at least she was salvaged. The words spit from her mouth, dear Valdis was the last of her worries so at least daddy stepped in to save her from the despair he created.
When she mentions the resort he notes that it was once his home and she couldn't help the laugh that escapes her maw. Is that the one you were ran from? She snorts as she attempts to throw verbal daggers at him. He may have won the battle with Loess, but Mary would not be so easily ran from the home she was born into.
The next words the king spews leaves her rather shocked, a threat followed by an assumption. A rape with Sinner? She snorts but does not put it past him, he was a man who did what he needed to get what he wanted. Emotions will always be your downfall, she thinks to herself, but remains silent.
The pair stood close enough that they're breath could could be felt on one another. Before she could respond the stag lunged and pierced her neck with his sharp teeth. She remains silent, not allowing the satisfaction of a whimper escape her maw. She closed her eyes accepting this could be the moment that she meets her father again. The images of each of her children flash before her, finally settling on Sinner, the father of her children and the man who stole her heart no matter how hard she fought it. The same one who left her when everything fell around them.
Before she could gather her thoughts he releases his grip on her neck, she gasps for the air that she lost and her cold gaze finds his as he reminds her not to betray him. How can I betray your trust again when you've stripped me from my home. She spats at him, her own body finally fueled with anger.
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
(Break her)
(Teach her)
That voice – the one he has learned to control over the years – slithers into his head. It hisses vehemently, wanting more of her blood spilt across the forest floor. As anger rises in his chest – the fire that threatens to burst – the primal instinct to kill begins to shout. It grows louder and sinks deeper into his core, clawing his body in attempt to take control.
(Break her)
It would be so easy, so satisfying, but Castile freezes. His jaws clench and his eyes forebodingly flash as they bore into her. A solitary step inches him closer. There is hardly any space between his broad chest and her shoulder.
But then he stops. It isn’t worth it, not this time.
Her blood is already on his lips, her neck harmed by his jagged teeth that now recede. Scales vibrantly ripple across his body, but he turns abruptly away from her, catching his breath and suppressing the monster that’s rattling its cage inside his brain. The injury is enough. He has done enough. Out of aggravation, Castile’s jaws clap together and a brief pause tampers the fire in his soul until he is able to face Mary again, strangely composed. ”Don’t tempt me,” he growls as he stalks toward her, returning to his place near her as he considers the barbed question she asks.
(Rip… her…)
The voice is quieting in his mind, crawling into the catacombs of his thoughts. ”You did it to yourself, Mary, when you and Sinner openly defied your kingdom.” He doesn’t say that they defied him, that they challenged him, because it was an act against the crown, not the one holding it. ”You both are traitors and were dealt with appropriately,” the underlying ferocity of his voice strengthens, but he does not act against her, not yet. Mary is throwing rocks at him, daring him, but he refrains while he still has the energy to. ”I dare you to tell me that if the tables were turned, that you would not have evicted me from my own home, that you would not make my life an eternal hell.” Is it wrong for him to assume that she would? That she would be so smug and cold-hearted that she would happily try to rid the world of Castile’s influence? ”Sylva could have still been yours had you not betrayed Loess. Learn from your mistakes and stop pointing the damn finger when this was greatly your own fault.” His eyes narrow as frustration seethes and hisses past his lips.
Warm blood trickles down her neck, she can feel it and her neck stings in pain but she refuses to show it. When she gets the chance to retreat back to the island, she will have a chance to whimper about her pain, but not now, not in front of him.
As he releases he turns away, she catches his body quickly shifting from being covered in scales back to his soft fur coat. She narrows her gaze on him, but says nothing, she simply watches him as he finds a spot beside her once again. She very well could have met her death today, but it seems her life has been spared today.
She listens to him as he spews words again, an attempt to make her feel bad? Defying my kingdom? she snorts as she listens to him ramble, Wolfbane was the only kingdom she intended on obeying, each crowned king after him more crazy. Mary did not mind a little fun and pain, but creating a war for no damn reason was not one she could get behind. She knew that Castile was trouble from the moment they met, loyalty had never lied with him.
He brings up a good point, she certainly would have evicted any traitors, but Mary had no traitors. All the Sylva residents respected her and Sinner, a family combined as one. She knows that one by one her home had been picked apart, stolen by Loess and its allies, leaving it barren when the raid happened....he can fill Sylva with more of Loess members, but those loyal to Sylva will never obey him.
She finally turns her head to find Castile's gaze, What reason did you give me to obey you? You never cared about Sylva, you planned to replace us the moment you met us. She snorts, her tone was harsh as she recalls there first meeting. Threatened by the pair perhaps, the strong relationship that they held, a territory that bloomed better than its own kingdom. You can come up with whatever reason that makes sense in your mind Castile, but I won't forget how you threw me and my children out of my own home. Her body shifts in front of him now I am not an enemy you wanted, and when I return with my own Kingdom Castile, a new war will be warranted. She snorts as she spits the truth, a threat perhaps, but she didn't have anything else to lose.
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
He wants her to acknowledge the pain, to writhe beneath the blood rivulets and seethe at the touch of air against muscle. It would offer him satisfaction, but Mary is keen to remain stoic. She, like the stubborn woman she is, refuses to buckle beneath him and give him an ounce of glory.
But he’s never really found glory in harming others, not when it can be avoided – especially toward women.
There’s a fleeting moment of regret when Castile’s intense stare climbs to the punctures on Mary’s neck. They hold his attention for a heartbeat before his gaze slips to her face just as she snorts in opposition. A short, indignant laugh slips unbidden past his lips. Silence wraps around him just before the woman turns her head to regard him, remaining somewhat poised even with a barbed tongue. He listens when it would be easier to scoff and dismiss her. A brow lifts at first but settles as he mulls over everything that is roughly spilled between them. No sense crying over spilt milk, but there is also blood.
It takes so much of his energy to remain motionless, to not crumble at the whim of his predatory nature.
(Break her)
The voice tries to speak up again, to poison Castile’s mind, but somehow he remains steadfast within Mary’s spotlight. An indication of his distaste is the snarl that lifts his lips and the cold stare that meets hers. ”Did I now?” Suddenly, the malicious expression is replaced by borderline amusement. ”News to me.” She is so convinced, so blinded, by her fallen hellhound. Castile nearly chuckles, but swallows it down due to the seriousness of the conversation. ”Hell no, I didn’t trust you and Sinner. Why would I based on how you acted during our first meeting? You never gave me a reason to believe or trust you, but as long as you stayed in your lane, I wasn’t going to take your little throne. I was fine to let you have it and do as you will, but the second you stood against us in Tephra, I regretted not following my gut. I regretted giving you two the benefit of the doubt.” He edges closer. The unnatural heat of his skin flares against her as fire roils in his gut. ”You did this to your own damned self,” he pauses as he straightens himself and subtly inclines his head, ”I’m surprised someone of your stature would follow the idiocy of a mutt. Shame. Look where it put you.” He looks around the forest blandly.
Castile threatens to leave her here in the forest, stripped of everything she has ever known. His mismatched eyes find the trail he emerged from and he takes a step in the direction before hesitating and looking at her. ”I’ve taken your home from you once, Mary, don’t make me do it again,” a slow, gradual scrutiny traces along her body, ”or anything worse.” No, he would never rape her – that is an act far beneath him that he would never venture toward. No child deserves to be thrusted into a world under such conditions (he abruptly thinks of Sochi and the life growing within her).
Weary from her stubbornness, Castile’s voice lowers but never softens. It remains sharply edged. ”I don’t think you’d recognize mercy and kindness from me even if it smacked you in the face, Mary. I will treat you as a reflection of how you treat me. Got it?” His tongue glides contemplatively across his lips. ”I’ve shown you a small peek at how I can ruin you as your enemy. I suggest you reconsider your standings with me.”
The relationship these two shared had never been an easy one. Perhaps it would have been a different story had she met him prior to him taking the Loess throne, or when she was a child, maybe even before meeting all of his children. But she didn't and now she stands before him with blood trickling down her neck because of him.
She spewed the truth to him (her truth), and he was quick to respond. He is smug, daring to laugh, if she had teeth of her own this would be the moment they seeped into his neck. But she didn't and so she stands before him gazing with little emotion as he defends his actions.
He goes on to scold her, to admit his true feelings on her and Sinner. He had never trusted them but gave them a chance, still she doesn't believe him. He plotted there replacement long before it actually happened.
This time it was Mary who laughs, Yanno Castile, I think we could have been friends in another lifetime. The words painfully slip past her lips. Her and Sinner made a great team, each making up where the other lacked. And of course her own emotions got involved which perhaps blocked her mind from certain decisions, but hating Castile wasn't one.
It wasn't necessarily Castile that she hated all along, but the betrayal and disappearance of Bane that drove her anger. A stallion she trusted her whole life, and one who left faster than she could process. Castile just happened to be the one that her anger landed on, an easy escape to the situation, and ultimately the reason of her demise.
He moves on to her comment of a war, one that could be molded based on any future interactions together. She grins at his comment, smug as usual, I guess time will only tell Castile. She cocks her eye towards him, the anger she once felt slowly dissipating.
He finishes there conversation with a peace offering? Noting he would treat her how she treated him, and her eyes questionably gazed at him. Is that so? she ponders his statement, and what can you do for me in turn of these peaceful interactions? She asks out of true curiosity.
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
As she laughs – it’s scoffing, dismissive – Castile joins her with a coy grin that stretches across his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes or soften the harsh edges of his face. Any attempt of niceties was dragged through the dirt and spat on. Patience, a fleeting virtue of his, dwindles away with every heartbeat and every slow, steady breath. Even as she offers a consolation of friendship in another life, there remains a tension building like blocks between them. It further cements their fate, confirms how far on opposite ends they are. Humorously, it reminds him of his relationship with Ilma. Tense but respectable, distant yet close. Castile questions his ability to maintain another qualm that shadows his every move. A half laugh gruffly falls. ”Another life,” he reiterates with a languid roll of his shoulders, ”Not this one, it seems.” They are both ambitious, both stubborn. Perhaps, together, they are too much of a good thing to ever work, to ever work cohesively.
A deep breath sighs through him as he calculates everything. Every meticulous thought undergoes inspection and consideration, but it leaves him quiet for a long few moments. His metallic eyes shift from one tree to the sky, to the sod underfoot to Mary’s glimmering eyes.
”One thing I can do is not eat you,” his teeth elongate again as he smirks, but in a blink of an eye they are blunt again. The tension throughout his body eases, relaxing beneath the dappled sunlight as he hesitantly comes to a decision, an offer, really. ”Your children – my grandchildren – may live in Loess so they aren’t homeless. Admittedly, kids are my soft spot,” he once tried to distance himself from families and love due to how easily they could all be leveraged, but he isn’t so cold. Like anyone else, Castile has his weaknesses. Fortunately, his family has proven capable even in tough times.
But that does not address her, the fallen Queen of Sylva. She looks at him in distrust, but also expectation. It almost reminds him of Litotes. ”As for you,” he begins slowly, his weight shifting to cock and rest a hind leg. ”I can find you a place – a position – to gain my trust. I want you to swear loyalty to me, Mary. If you exceed my, admittedly low, expectations of trust then I will raise you to something greater.” There are options that come to mind, racing through his thoughts relentlessly. Greater than what she is now – a former, a has-been, a fallen monarch. He doesn’t tell her them. That would be too easy, too simple for her to take and run with. ”But, there are a lot of if’s involved, and they’re dependent on your trustworthiness. I know you are capable and you have potential, now prove it to me – prove it to someone worth your time, not a shaggy dog.” A brow lifts expectantly, waiting to see which direction their conversation will suddenly turn, as though this wasn’t enough of a shock.
