01-10-2019, 03:57 PM
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
There’s something exhilarating – intoxicating - in the way Sochi looks at him. Two hunters locking eyes; their senses tingle to life, electrifying them as they come together. Castile is invigorated by the thought – the knowledge – that if he ever harmed her that she would retaliate and attempt just as swiftly to open his throat. Sochi isn’t meek. Just like him, she is a fighter, a predator. They yearn for blood just the same, and he can detect that hunger gleaming in her eyes. He cannot help to wonder whether she has eaten since their last meeting.
Castile shrugs haphazardly. Without a secret to hide, he openly admits, ”I wanted my son to meet other kids his own age.” Reia would perhaps be a good playmate, but the girl has a similar wanderlust to him that has escaped underneath his radar. Much like Sochi, he is content letting his children roam and experience the world without hindrance. It’ll make them all stronger in the end. Inwardly, he knows their daughter is here on the island, but he bides his time finding her to enable Reia an opportunity to settle and occupy herself. He doesn’t shadow over her or watch her every step. Perhaps she will come across Gilt. If not, then maybe another time.
They’ve no concrete relationship – simply a mother and father – but there is a sense of possessiveness that trails across him when his gaze slowly traces her body, remembering the evening they had spent together. A low rumble reverberates throughout his chest, masculine and primal, as he, too, inches closer to meet her. It crosses his mind to reach for her, to breathe in the familiarity of her skin, but Sochi instead seizes the moment with a forwardness he respects. Black smoke coils from his nostrils as she grazes her teeth along the broad curve of his jaw, the sentiment tender enough to contrast the ferocity that survives within her. A smile peels back his lips, flickering as he contemplates her response. ”I want it to be,” he admits truthfully, no longer hiding his intentions while his eyes dance away from her and onto the beach and nearby palm trees. ”Warmer weather suits me better,” his gaze slyly returns to hers, ”suits us.”
In a mutual gesture, Castile nibbles along Sochi’s neck and glides down to her withers. He could just as easily mark her as his own, keep her to himself, but somehow what they have now – without the ball and chain – is so much better. With a confirming sigh of air, he trails his lips back along the crest of her neck before murmuring, ”I should take it.”
Castile shrugs haphazardly. Without a secret to hide, he openly admits, ”I wanted my son to meet other kids his own age.” Reia would perhaps be a good playmate, but the girl has a similar wanderlust to him that has escaped underneath his radar. Much like Sochi, he is content letting his children roam and experience the world without hindrance. It’ll make them all stronger in the end. Inwardly, he knows their daughter is here on the island, but he bides his time finding her to enable Reia an opportunity to settle and occupy herself. He doesn’t shadow over her or watch her every step. Perhaps she will come across Gilt. If not, then maybe another time.
They’ve no concrete relationship – simply a mother and father – but there is a sense of possessiveness that trails across him when his gaze slowly traces her body, remembering the evening they had spent together. A low rumble reverberates throughout his chest, masculine and primal, as he, too, inches closer to meet her. It crosses his mind to reach for her, to breathe in the familiarity of her skin, but Sochi instead seizes the moment with a forwardness he respects. Black smoke coils from his nostrils as she grazes her teeth along the broad curve of his jaw, the sentiment tender enough to contrast the ferocity that survives within her. A smile peels back his lips, flickering as he contemplates her response. ”I want it to be,” he admits truthfully, no longer hiding his intentions while his eyes dance away from her and onto the beach and nearby palm trees. ”Warmer weather suits me better,” his gaze slyly returns to hers, ”suits us.”
In a mutual gesture, Castile nibbles along Sochi’s neck and glides down to her withers. He could just as easily mark her as his own, keep her to himself, but somehow what they have now – without the ball and chain – is so much better. With a confirming sigh of air, he trails his lips back along the crest of her neck before murmuring, ”I should take it.”
castile
@[Sochi]