12-14-2018, 06:51 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
Castile cradles them gently in his claws, Sabra clutched by his front and the lavender child by his rear. Upon taking flight, he considered them dangling underneath and turned away from the blistering wind. It howls at their backs, whipping their manes wildly around their faces. Fortunately, their flight is brief as they soar from the rocky outcropping to the mainland of Nerine. The buffeting of his wings is nearly deafening as he banks and gingerly places the child down before following with Sabra. His own landing is heavy, shuddering the rocky ground underneath them. A fleeting idea to leave is dismissed when he slowly blinks and looks at Sabra. There is a reason he didn’t abandon her when she died, or when she even took her very first breath after the incident. A tenderness begins to leak back into his eyes until his attention sweeps across to the child. As innocent as she is, the filly is painted with regret, murder and hate. Even the coloring of her coat is enough to bristle him. With a curl of his lip – disgust, disapproval – he refocuses on Sabra just as she croons to him, finding in herself, too, to be gentle.
What they have – what they are – has been turbulent as of late. The fire churns in his gut as he reflects on recent events, on how they ended things before. He had deserted them with a cloud of dirt and debris in his wake. It had been tempting then to never turn back around because not only was there Sabra and her child, but also Ilma. The woman he confessed his embarrassment to, who knew what a monster he had been, has now witnessed him at an ultimate low point. Just as easily as he shifts, Castile could have left behind everything.
Yet something drew him back to her and insisted that he help her escape the prison he put her in.
Love and family are all he ever wanted as a child, and yet conflict has constantly loomed over him like a storm cloud. There is no avoiding it anymore. It doesn’t seem to be feasible. It’s a distant dream, always just out of reach. Yet he struggles to let go of anyone and anything that he holds dear. It will hurt them in the end, but Castile is stupid and selfish.
”You died,” he echoes from their previous conversations as his memory replays the sight of it, ”I lost you once…” but he cuts himself off from pledging to never lose her again, because his grip seems to be slipping. He has noticed the distant haze in her eyes, how she, too, is just as conflicted. ”What is it that you want, Sabra? What would make you happy?” The questions slip unbidden, and as much as he wants to reel them back, he simply cannot. Holding steady, with his body curled in a half-moon – still as a dragon – he waits for an answer, having only one request. ”Be honest.”
What they have – what they are – has been turbulent as of late. The fire churns in his gut as he reflects on recent events, on how they ended things before. He had deserted them with a cloud of dirt and debris in his wake. It had been tempting then to never turn back around because not only was there Sabra and her child, but also Ilma. The woman he confessed his embarrassment to, who knew what a monster he had been, has now witnessed him at an ultimate low point. Just as easily as he shifts, Castile could have left behind everything.
Yet something drew him back to her and insisted that he help her escape the prison he put her in.
Love and family are all he ever wanted as a child, and yet conflict has constantly loomed over him like a storm cloud. There is no avoiding it anymore. It doesn’t seem to be feasible. It’s a distant dream, always just out of reach. Yet he struggles to let go of anyone and anything that he holds dear. It will hurt them in the end, but Castile is stupid and selfish.
”You died,” he echoes from their previous conversations as his memory replays the sight of it, ”I lost you once…” but he cuts himself off from pledging to never lose her again, because his grip seems to be slipping. He has noticed the distant haze in her eyes, how she, too, is just as conflicted. ”What is it that you want, Sabra? What would make you happy?” The questions slip unbidden, and as much as he wants to reel them back, he simply cannot. Holding steady, with his body curled in a half-moon – still as a dragon – he waits for an answer, having only one request. ”Be honest.”
castile
@[Sabra]