10-22-2018, 03:02 PM
This is so familiar, Castile thinks to himself underneath a stoic mask, except this time he isn’t the victim. He stands here as a teacher, composed and collected despite his initial meet with Santana. They are two titans. It would behoove them to cooperate and learn, to love as a family should and set aside the past. Despite the best route, their minds are both weighed heavily with uncertainty.
Santana is brimming with emotions, an inner storm rolling in then ebbing away. Castile takes careful notice, his eyes gleaming in scrutiny as though expecting another outburst, but it doesn’t come. His son steadies himself and strains his focus on a shrub.
”That’s improvement already,” he remarks, his gaze shifting away as he searches for advice. This day, he knew, loomed but still he finds himself unprepared and nearly at a loss for words. Seclusion had been his ally when it seemed impossible to think for himself or control his ferocity. Yet, he can’t bring himself to admit this because he refuses to shun Santana; he won’t miss more time with his son. So, he contemplates and gropes for an answer but his honesty outweighs anything he could sugarcoat. ”That’ll happen,” he begins with a shrug of his broad shoulders, ”and it’ll be difficult to turn down the opportunity. We are hunters.” But they are different from most; they are fiercer and larger than a jungle cat or wolf.
And perhaps that is what makes it more difficult to control.
A moment’s hesitation lifts Castile’s mismatched eyes back onto Santana’s. ”I hurt someone I cared about, and that’s what made me realize I needed to learn control. Battling made it worse, but I don’t even have full control with that either. The adrenaline…” that’s his Achilles Heel. The surge through his blood sets his world aflame. ”You need to keep your emotions low, and not get frantic or too excitable.” Here, he is at first stamped with a creased frown, but a memory slips into the forefront of his mind. What had been embarrassing then is at least funny now. The crisp edges of his face soften and a half-hearted chuckle melts the tension between them. ”When I liked a girl, a couple parts of my body would shift. I can only imagine how awkward I looked with a random claw or elongated snout while everything else was that of a horse.” He was younger when he first met Solace. Ciri, he was a mere boy awestruck by a woman who pressed against him. He always just wanted to love, and be loved.
Blinking back the memories, Castile straightens and inclines his heart. ”Shift one part of your body at a time.” A curt demand spoken from the tongue of a loving father.
Santana is brimming with emotions, an inner storm rolling in then ebbing away. Castile takes careful notice, his eyes gleaming in scrutiny as though expecting another outburst, but it doesn’t come. His son steadies himself and strains his focus on a shrub.
”That’s improvement already,” he remarks, his gaze shifting away as he searches for advice. This day, he knew, loomed but still he finds himself unprepared and nearly at a loss for words. Seclusion had been his ally when it seemed impossible to think for himself or control his ferocity. Yet, he can’t bring himself to admit this because he refuses to shun Santana; he won’t miss more time with his son. So, he contemplates and gropes for an answer but his honesty outweighs anything he could sugarcoat. ”That’ll happen,” he begins with a shrug of his broad shoulders, ”and it’ll be difficult to turn down the opportunity. We are hunters.” But they are different from most; they are fiercer and larger than a jungle cat or wolf.
And perhaps that is what makes it more difficult to control.
A moment’s hesitation lifts Castile’s mismatched eyes back onto Santana’s. ”I hurt someone I cared about, and that’s what made me realize I needed to learn control. Battling made it worse, but I don’t even have full control with that either. The adrenaline…” that’s his Achilles Heel. The surge through his blood sets his world aflame. ”You need to keep your emotions low, and not get frantic or too excitable.” Here, he is at first stamped with a creased frown, but a memory slips into the forefront of his mind. What had been embarrassing then is at least funny now. The crisp edges of his face soften and a half-hearted chuckle melts the tension between them. ”When I liked a girl, a couple parts of my body would shift. I can only imagine how awkward I looked with a random claw or elongated snout while everything else was that of a horse.” He was younger when he first met Solace. Ciri, he was a mere boy awestruck by a woman who pressed against him. He always just wanted to love, and be loved.
Blinking back the memories, Castile straightens and inclines his heart. ”Shift one part of your body at a time.” A curt demand spoken from the tongue of a loving father.