02-04-2019, 06:09 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
He had wanted so badly to be an active part in their lives, to watch them take their first breath and first steps. It had been Castile’s dream to be there and to press himself lovingly against the women that bore him his children.
To have that stripped from him still riddles his mind with regret and disappointment. The twins – both sets – were two by the time he returned and settled his eyes on them for the first time. His heart reaches out to them, wanting to embrace them, but the opportunities have been rare to come by. It’s with the plague’s arrival that Castile’s urgency to see them increases. Their welfare is what matters most to him, above all else. Knowing they are here, tucked in the safe embrace of the Cove, he rushed to see them and ease his troubled nerves.
It would break him immediately to know he doesn’t recognize his own son. Raul had not been on Ischia when he visited and when he first laid eyes on Santana. Only one boy, Sabra said, was around at the time. Raul, nomadic and diplomatic, was wandering on his own. Suspicion sinks into his thoughts when his eyes sweep sideways and glimpse the silver buckskin. Sabra. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. The male nearly mirrors his opalescent consort, but he doesn’t jump to an immediate conclusion. While his attention frequently darts back to the muted stallion, Castile cannot help to rest most of his focus on Velk when he arrives.
A broad smile stretches across Castile’s lips upon glimpsing the boy – no, he is a man grown now. ”Velk,” his son’s name is laced with a sense of joy and pride that surfaces and brightens across his face. His breaths are still labored, his muscles trembling from the exertion of his travels. ”Don’t worry about me,” he begins to mutter before silenced by the magic stemming from Velk’s muzzle. It threads through his skin, into his veins and lungs. A wave of relief washes across him, rewarding him with a clear, deep breath. The distress of his body eases and his exhaustion gradually subsides. ”Thank you,” he says, holding Velk in a matching embrace until they peel apart.
Idly, he glances to the buckskin, then back to Velk. ”I wanted to check on you and your sister. This plague is really… something.” He hates how quickly he contracted the infection and succumbed to its harrowing symptoms. Admittedly, he was too arrogant. ”How are you and Valdis? Okay, I hope? Staying safe?” Concern – paternal and loving in every way – gleams in his mismatched eyes as they scrutinize his son, searching him for lesions or blood. When nothing stands out, Castile inclines his head curiously. ”Do you know him?” Sabra, he still thinks. Is that his other son? The one child that has eluded him? With a trembling heart, Castile waits expectantly for answers.
To have that stripped from him still riddles his mind with regret and disappointment. The twins – both sets – were two by the time he returned and settled his eyes on them for the first time. His heart reaches out to them, wanting to embrace them, but the opportunities have been rare to come by. It’s with the plague’s arrival that Castile’s urgency to see them increases. Their welfare is what matters most to him, above all else. Knowing they are here, tucked in the safe embrace of the Cove, he rushed to see them and ease his troubled nerves.
It would break him immediately to know he doesn’t recognize his own son. Raul had not been on Ischia when he visited and when he first laid eyes on Santana. Only one boy, Sabra said, was around at the time. Raul, nomadic and diplomatic, was wandering on his own. Suspicion sinks into his thoughts when his eyes sweep sideways and glimpse the silver buckskin. Sabra. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. The male nearly mirrors his opalescent consort, but he doesn’t jump to an immediate conclusion. While his attention frequently darts back to the muted stallion, Castile cannot help to rest most of his focus on Velk when he arrives.
A broad smile stretches across Castile’s lips upon glimpsing the boy – no, he is a man grown now. ”Velk,” his son’s name is laced with a sense of joy and pride that surfaces and brightens across his face. His breaths are still labored, his muscles trembling from the exertion of his travels. ”Don’t worry about me,” he begins to mutter before silenced by the magic stemming from Velk’s muzzle. It threads through his skin, into his veins and lungs. A wave of relief washes across him, rewarding him with a clear, deep breath. The distress of his body eases and his exhaustion gradually subsides. ”Thank you,” he says, holding Velk in a matching embrace until they peel apart.
Idly, he glances to the buckskin, then back to Velk. ”I wanted to check on you and your sister. This plague is really… something.” He hates how quickly he contracted the infection and succumbed to its harrowing symptoms. Admittedly, he was too arrogant. ”How are you and Valdis? Okay, I hope? Staying safe?” Concern – paternal and loving in every way – gleams in his mismatched eyes as they scrutinize his son, searching him for lesions or blood. When nothing stands out, Castile inclines his head curiously. ”Do you know him?” Sabra, he still thinks. Is that his other son? The one child that has eluded him? With a trembling heart, Castile waits expectantly for answers.
castile
@[Velk] @[Raul]