04-21-2020, 09:44 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
Surprise paints across the boy’s face and, in turn, ignites greater amusement in Castile’s. His eyes gleam underneath his forelock. A warm grin still presents itself even as he rolls his muscular shoulders in a shrug. ”Just a little break from everything,” he confesses, perhaps too openly, before reeling back just enough, ”I was curious what it must be like to never fly anywhere. Tell you what – it’s exhausting.” But he already knew this; the faeries once stripped him of his draconic adornments, forcing him to walk everywhere. It was another humbling experience, but it also elicited a deep range inside him.
It has been a couple years since then, and the fire in his gut has reduced to a low kindle.
A deep chuckle rumbles from Castile’s chest as he watches the boy tangle himself and edge closer. The sheepish grin reminds him so much of himself from when he was young. A crooked, boyish grin – that’s what has always been notable of him. ”It’s so invigorating!” The russet stallion only half rears, flinging his head and peering up toward the sapphire sky. ”You will have so much fun, but it’s scary at first,” he remembers then, his childhood in Nerine, and stills himself except to slightly lower his muzzle toward his new companion. ”I was so frightened at first, but you seem like you’ll be much braver.” His voice is hardly above a whisper, quiet enough for only the boy to hear. What he says is, in fact, true. Castile reflects briefly on his attempts and how high the Nerinian cliffs were. While some of the other children floated down or teleported, he took the long trail down to the beach. He didn’t want to plummet to his death.
Blinking away the old memories, he focuses on others as the young male presents him with questions and ideas. The Isle – I burned it, he doesn’t say – and Ischia. With a thoughtful inclination of his chin, he sifts through his life and easily enough comes to an answer. ”I have, but it was many years ago and long before the nereids took control of the island. A friend of mine led it, although he was a kelpie and water dweller himself. It’s a warm, tropical place from what I remember. You can tell me what you think after you’ve visited and learned to fly.” Castile finds himself enjoying this, enjoying the boy and the carefree conversations at hand. Truthfully, he didn’t expect to find such peace and laughter in someone nearly two decades younger than himself.
Then again, maybe it’s what he needed – someone other than an adult, someone other than a woman.
Without realizing it, Nashua (whose name still remains unknown) is whisking Castile away into a mindset that he has been craving. The boy is an escape.
”Twins are great,” he pauses as a lump forms in his throat, but he forces himself to swallow past it, ”I do not have a twin, but I am the father of a couple pairs.” Except Valdis was killed – his first daughter, the girl in his first set of twin children. Refusing to shadow their conversation with sadness, Castile shakes his head as though to rid the gnats but actually suppresses the sight of his daughter’s maimed body. ”I have other siblings. Five, actually. One brother and four sisters.” He doesn’t confess that he has a favorite, that Isobell will always be his number one.
It has been a couple years since then, and the fire in his gut has reduced to a low kindle.
A deep chuckle rumbles from Castile’s chest as he watches the boy tangle himself and edge closer. The sheepish grin reminds him so much of himself from when he was young. A crooked, boyish grin – that’s what has always been notable of him. ”It’s so invigorating!” The russet stallion only half rears, flinging his head and peering up toward the sapphire sky. ”You will have so much fun, but it’s scary at first,” he remembers then, his childhood in Nerine, and stills himself except to slightly lower his muzzle toward his new companion. ”I was so frightened at first, but you seem like you’ll be much braver.” His voice is hardly above a whisper, quiet enough for only the boy to hear. What he says is, in fact, true. Castile reflects briefly on his attempts and how high the Nerinian cliffs were. While some of the other children floated down or teleported, he took the long trail down to the beach. He didn’t want to plummet to his death.
Blinking away the old memories, he focuses on others as the young male presents him with questions and ideas. The Isle – I burned it, he doesn’t say – and Ischia. With a thoughtful inclination of his chin, he sifts through his life and easily enough comes to an answer. ”I have, but it was many years ago and long before the nereids took control of the island. A friend of mine led it, although he was a kelpie and water dweller himself. It’s a warm, tropical place from what I remember. You can tell me what you think after you’ve visited and learned to fly.” Castile finds himself enjoying this, enjoying the boy and the carefree conversations at hand. Truthfully, he didn’t expect to find such peace and laughter in someone nearly two decades younger than himself.
Then again, maybe it’s what he needed – someone other than an adult, someone other than a woman.
Without realizing it, Nashua (whose name still remains unknown) is whisking Castile away into a mindset that he has been craving. The boy is an escape.
”Twins are great,” he pauses as a lump forms in his throat, but he forces himself to swallow past it, ”I do not have a twin, but I am the father of a couple pairs.” Except Valdis was killed – his first daughter, the girl in his first set of twin children. Refusing to shadow their conversation with sadness, Castile shakes his head as though to rid the gnats but actually suppresses the sight of his daughter’s maimed body. ”I have other siblings. Five, actually. One brother and four sisters.” He doesn’t confess that he has a favorite, that Isobell will always be his number one.
castile
@[Nashua]