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
Of all the faces, of all the memories, Ciri was the last he expected.
They were mere children when they first laid eyes on each other. Their lives intertwined so unexpectedly yet so passionately. Castile wanted her then, craved her, but his friendship with Amet barred his primal desires. Amet was the raging river Castile dared not cross.
Their paths crossed once, maybe twice, more but it was hardly more than aimless wandering. Love branched them in different directions. Apart, they found love and parenthood. Together, a loose friendship.
Yet that doesn't inhibit the way his heart leaps at the sound of her voice.
It's different. Wiser, perhaps, but still he almost immediately recognizes it as she utters his name.
His mismatched eyes blink slowly, thoughtfully, while his baroque head lifts to drink the sight of her. What meets his eyes isn't at all what he expected. The confidence he had falters. Seeing her now, with stars adorning her skin, fills his eyes with doubt. A deep breath and a furrowed brow. Is it her? Is it truly? This isn't the image that he remembers. She isn't the one that sank her claws into him decades ago.
… Right?
But the sweetness of her skin reaches him again and sheds away the layers of doubt. His childhood - when he was afraid of the creature inside him - trickles back, little by little, until he finds himself facing her full front, staring in awe at what she has become. He hadn't even realized he was moving at all.
Suddenly, his tongue feels thick in his dry mouth.
Castile hesitates before he finally nods his head, confirming her suspicions while delivering his own. "Ciri?" It shouldn't be a question and yet it is framed as one as he regards her more curiously now. "So much time has passed…" he trails off, unable to find the words as he inches closer, almost believing they are once again children.
castile