08-30-2019, 02:25 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 moves like a hunter – an arrogant swagger, silent fluidity, concentration – as he maneuvers toward the river. It seems like eons since he was last here. Memories reel through his mind, littered with both joy and sadness. Hearts were combined and broken here, children created, lives shared.
A low sigh passes from Castile’s lungs when he takes pause to scrutinize how much the landscape has changed. Trees have aged and grown, the river still courses strongly. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what led him here – not until a scent clutches onto his nostrils. It sinks into his mind and surfaces again as an explosion of images. Moods correlate with everything he suddenly sees – joy, anger, frustration, disappointment, admiration – and storm inside him for what feels like an eternity.
Then suddenly, it all stops.
It’s as though the reminders pulled him back and engulfed him. Everything felt real, but it was all reminiscent.
Castile’s eyes open – he doesn’t remember ever closing them – and he immediately notices Raul. The vibrant colors are a beacon that draws him like a moth to a flame. As leery as he is, Castile masks it behind a face of comfort and rising curiosity. ”Hello,” he gruffly begins, not entirely certain how his son will react. Most of his children exploit excitement and kindness, but Sabra’s twins always have him wondering what’s next.
But the opalescent male is not alone. Castile follows his son’s eyes down to the young boy. The right side of his face is puckered and scarred, almost even grotesque, but the Loessian King remains steady and not at all deterred. While there are minor similarities that he notes, he says and assumes nothing as a brief quiet envelopes the three of them.
A low sigh passes from Castile’s lungs when he takes pause to scrutinize how much the landscape has changed. Trees have aged and grown, the river still courses strongly. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what led him here – not until a scent clutches onto his nostrils. It sinks into his mind and surfaces again as an explosion of images. Moods correlate with everything he suddenly sees – joy, anger, frustration, disappointment, admiration – and storm inside him for what feels like an eternity.
Then suddenly, it all stops.
It’s as though the reminders pulled him back and engulfed him. Everything felt real, but it was all reminiscent.
Castile’s eyes open – he doesn’t remember ever closing them – and he immediately notices Raul. The vibrant colors are a beacon that draws him like a moth to a flame. As leery as he is, Castile masks it behind a face of comfort and rising curiosity. ”Hello,” he gruffly begins, not entirely certain how his son will react. Most of his children exploit excitement and kindness, but Sabra’s twins always have him wondering what’s next.
But the opalescent male is not alone. Castile follows his son’s eyes down to the young boy. The right side of his face is puckered and scarred, almost even grotesque, but the Loessian King remains steady and not at all deterred. While there are minor similarities that he notes, he says and assumes nothing as a brief quiet envelopes the three of them.
castile
@[Raul] @[Clegane]