11-03-2017, 03:46 PM
The truth of her statement somehow sinks further than Castile anticipated. When he looks up from the ground, drawn by the placidity of her voice, he searches her stormy eyes for either happiness or solemnity toward her inherited responsibilities. ”I thought she would’ve found someone by now,” it was a clan of warrior women, so surely there was someone deserving of the crown as mother’s successor, but his assumption is wrong. Perhaps. Isobell’s birth gave Nayl hope to continue a legacy. Certainly, she didn’t discuss it with her son who could offer nothing to Nerine. ”When the time comes, I’m sure you will be great.” There is a wisp of excitement in the baritone of his voice as he imagines his sibling stepping onto a throne and carrying a metaphorical crown on her head. A gentle nudge against her neck is the only form of physical reassurance.
However, Isobell is quick to alter their conversation and change the focus to him. With his muzzle still idly rest against her he weighs the situation and considers his next moves. Ivar wants him here in Loess, but Amet wants him in Hyaline. Isobell, most likely, wants him as close to her as possible. He smiles at her, a genuine brightness softening the sharp edges of his face. There are so many places that he could be and yet he’s yet to truly settle down and decide how to dictate his life’s path. He isn’t obligated to anyone or anything; the world is open and all a new adventure. A sigh hisses from between his teeth and he shrugs with uncertainty. ”To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” His thoughts race to her, to their family, to his friends, to Ciri. There are so many factors but nothing so great enough as to convince him – not yet, at least.
But he chuckles with a deviation to their conversation, an idea that he once contemplated as a boy. ”Can you imagine if you ruled Nerine, Ivar ruled Loess, and I eventually ruled another land? We would be one hell of a powerful group.” They once entertained the idea of taking over the world, but it was in jest. Castile has never been so power hungry as mother. He is rather content to stand at his friend’s or sister’s side rather than take on a leadership role. That lifestyle was never embedded into him as it has been for Isobell. ”No matter where I go, Issy, I will never be far from you. Who else can you truly trust to protect you than your older brother?” He playfully tugs on her mane even as his eyes stare distantly toward the hills.
However, Isobell is quick to alter their conversation and change the focus to him. With his muzzle still idly rest against her he weighs the situation and considers his next moves. Ivar wants him here in Loess, but Amet wants him in Hyaline. Isobell, most likely, wants him as close to her as possible. He smiles at her, a genuine brightness softening the sharp edges of his face. There are so many places that he could be and yet he’s yet to truly settle down and decide how to dictate his life’s path. He isn’t obligated to anyone or anything; the world is open and all a new adventure. A sigh hisses from between his teeth and he shrugs with uncertainty. ”To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” His thoughts race to her, to their family, to his friends, to Ciri. There are so many factors but nothing so great enough as to convince him – not yet, at least.
But he chuckles with a deviation to their conversation, an idea that he once contemplated as a boy. ”Can you imagine if you ruled Nerine, Ivar ruled Loess, and I eventually ruled another land? We would be one hell of a powerful group.” They once entertained the idea of taking over the world, but it was in jest. Castile has never been so power hungry as mother. He is rather content to stand at his friend’s or sister’s side rather than take on a leadership role. That lifestyle was never embedded into him as it has been for Isobell. ”No matter where I go, Issy, I will never be far from you. Who else can you truly trust to protect you than your older brother?” He playfully tugs on her mane even as his eyes stare distantly toward the hills.