02-17-2020, 06:49 AM
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
With narrowed, angry eyes, Castile continues to observe the rigidity of Sochi’s body. He cannot – will not – let her go. Not now, not ever. His heart, buried beneath his fiery pride and stubbornness, yells and reaches out for her, but she isn’t at all receptive. She locks him with a similar stare, one in which frightens him that this is very well the end of their life together.
”Don’t,” he mumbles as her eyes flash as bright as her pointed teeth. It would be unlike him to beg, but as he wars internally with himself, there is a sliver of hope that he will fold underneath her. It crosses his mind. Apologize, that inner voice yells, admit you were wrong.
(Revel in this)
(Solitary hunter)
(Freedom)
Castile’s head lowers to confront her, his snarl matching her own ferocity, but it rips into a bellowing roar as she pounces. Her claws swipe against his nostrils, down to his lip. Reactively, his head jerks away, shaking away the sudden sting.
(Kill her)
Without thought – his better judgment – he claps his jaws together near where he last saw her, but there is only cold air that rushes from between his teeth. No flesh, no blood.
She is gone.
He does not follow her trail; not even a glance is spared toward the direction from where she came. Pieces of his heart breaks, the pain rising in his throat as the feral voice recedes in smug victory. A slow breath of resignation, a sense of loss. A low growl reverberates through him in distressed finality before taking flight and ascending to his throne above the clouds.
”Don’t,” he mumbles as her eyes flash as bright as her pointed teeth. It would be unlike him to beg, but as he wars internally with himself, there is a sliver of hope that he will fold underneath her. It crosses his mind. Apologize, that inner voice yells, admit you were wrong.
(Revel in this)
(Solitary hunter)
(Freedom)
Castile’s head lowers to confront her, his snarl matching her own ferocity, but it rips into a bellowing roar as she pounces. Her claws swipe against his nostrils, down to his lip. Reactively, his head jerks away, shaking away the sudden sting.
(Kill her)
Without thought – his better judgment – he claps his jaws together near where he last saw her, but there is only cold air that rushes from between his teeth. No flesh, no blood.
She is gone.
He does not follow her trail; not even a glance is spared toward the direction from where she came. Pieces of his heart breaks, the pain rising in his throat as the feral voice recedes in smug victory. A slow breath of resignation, a sense of loss. A low growl reverberates through him in distressed finality before taking flight and ascending to his throne above the clouds.
castile