"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
10-31-2018, 10:16 PM (This post was last modified: 10-31-2018, 11:59 PM by Camomila.)
She walked. Legs had been weakened from her journeys since she had lost her immortality and magic. No, lost didn’t quite fit what had happened. The word was too simple, lacked meaning. The accurate word was stolen. It perfectly described not only the circumstances that had transpired, but it explained her own resulting feelings. Betrayal left her confused, fear left her shameful of her decisions. She did what she thought was best for those in her Kingdom; she was poorly mistaken. Her brother had been corrupted with evil beyond comprehension, his dark mind had driven him to seek out magic unknown to the sea mistress.
But Mistress of the Seas, that title was stolen from her along with her magic, home, and everything that she ever cared about. As a result of his malice and her foolishness, she was left powerless. Only now could she truly understand the daily struggles of the normal horse. There was new appreciation for all those without magic and immortality; they were far stronger than she had realized. It took great physical, mental and emotional strength to live without such luxuries, strength that Camomila learned she didn’t have. Because she had it easy, her life was as simple as walking because of the magic she had been born with. Without that, she was nothing special. And part of her didn’t want any of it back, because now she could work for the luxuries she once had.
Being born with everything had no meaning, it was nothing to be proud of, she learned. Hard work, dedication, devotion. Nothing was worth having, nor feeling pride for, without those things. Ambition was a powerful thing. It was a new feeling, one that made her willing to do anything necessary to regain power. She wasn’t sure if she could ever take back her Kingdom and overthrow her brother, but while she was in Beqanna, she wanted what she once had. A home, with subordinates that are like family to her, and power to protect them. She wanted to have another Kingdom, or at least a land of her own, and she would build it from the ground up. This way she could be more proud of it, and have more reason to protect it.
Her hoof stomped on the snow covered ground one last time as she stopped walking, the cold air blowing even colder as it sweeps past and blows her mane and tail to the side. This place was cold, very cold. But it didn’t bother her. She was used to the freezing depths of the sea; this was no different in her eyes, other than the fact that it was on land.
She looked to her left then right, eyes blinking slowly as she admired the white isle. Her lips slowly curved upwards into a smile of pleasure; this place would be perfect.
Attempting to claim the land, but I’m not sure if I should tag anyone since I’m not the only one wanting to claim it :/
These upheavals always bring faces, new and old, crawling from the crevices to claim bits and pieces of the land and history for themselves in the chaos. She has seen it hundreds of times before, an old song and dance. And she is not naive and foolish enough to believe they would be entirely safe here.
But she would watch this land, protect it, because it is hers now. Just as Nerine is hers.
And so when the woman crawls from the sea onto the icy spit of land, Heartfire watches. The stranger says nothing as she settles onto the beach, but the craving in her eye speaks for itself. She comes alone however, and there is no power in loneliness, no matter how much magic she might retain. But Heartfire, for all her faults, has always been very good at reading the larger picture. At finding where such things fit into the grand scheme of life and survival.
So, no matter this strangers intentions, perhaps she could be useful.
Settling her charge into a small nook she had created in the earth for safekeeping, she turns to make her way along the shores. To confront the stranger invading her realm’s newest shores. Her breath rasps in her lungs as she walks, but she ignores it. Just as she had ignored the blood that would occasionally drip from her nostrils, just as she had ignore the fever that wracks her body in sporadic waves. There is no time for weakness here, and she would not succumb. But the toll shows in her body. She had always been a slim mare, narrow-framed and leanly muscled. But now she borders upon sickly, her ribs pressing against her skin, withers and hip-bones sharpening beneath the thickness of her winter coat. The loss of weight emphasizes the subtle rounding of her stomach, the only part of her that had gained anything.
And she ignores that too, just as she does everything else that had gone wrong with her body. She hadn’t the time, not now, to consider the ramifications of her thoughtless actions that stormy night.
No, in this moment, she can only think of the protection of her kingdom and her young charge. And so she approaches the stranger, her blue eyes steely as she fixes them upon the woman, expression still and unreadable. She studies her for a long moment before finally offering her greeting, such as it is. “Do you know where you have come?”
11-02-2018, 09:41 AM (This post was last modified: 11-02-2018, 09:55 AM by Castile.)
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
The cacophonous shouting rings through Castile’s ears even as he takes to the sky. His wings feverishly claw at the air with every stride. Exhaustion looms like a cloud, but he doesn’t stop. Even has his lungs scream, he sprints from one location to the other in attempt to take count of his family. Naturally, he wants his children huddled against his side, but the likelihood is feeble as they confusedly dance between borders. In the sky, his voice bellows for Raul and Santana, wanting desperately to see them safely harbored in a refuge. @[Sabra] he kept delicately placed on a towering outcropping of rock off Nerine’s shores where hopefully the disease will not reach. He will check on her, he tells himself, but his attention now shifts from Solace and the twins to Nerine.
His body seamlessly shifts, preferring the additional speed that his counterpart offers. In just a few heartbeats, his entire body has elongated, the beats of his wings less frantic and choppy since dragons can more effortlessly soar and accelerate with the wind cuddled against the thin membrane of his titanic wings. It still takes a long while – too long in his eyes – to reach Nerine, then Icicle Island not far from the shore. A potential sanctuary borne of the land’s magic. With it just outside of Nerine’s reach, he can only expect this to be their safe haven.
Adrenaline uncontrollably pours through Castile’s veins, maintaining the shift until he lands not far from Heartfire and the foreigner. His massive body trembles the ground, his ominous talons cutting and crumbling rocks underfoot. Another seamless and quick shift normalizes him as he walks forward, his mismatched eyes darting between the two women. The edge of his tone is sharp and frigid, much like the land they’ve found themselves in. ”Do you?” He questions Heartfire, his confession of confusion going unspoken but known between them.
(It’s too cold)
Tough shit.
A fire brews inside his core, surfacing to his skin and radiating a wave of heat that softly kisses the mares. His gaze is not kind; it smolders with curiosity and ill-contempt. ”Our own Queen has yet to call to anyone or lay claim to a refuge unlike the other leaders.” His eyes find Heartfire from underneath his unruly forelock. ”Everyone has called their kingdoms to arms and guided them elsewhere. Nerine remains in disarray. I’m disappointed in Breckin right now.” A rolling hiss is borne between his lips as a lip curls in mild distaste. It is only the two of them here, but with a long inhalation, Castile notes another among their ranks here on the spit of land. ”It’s only you and I, Heartfire,,that have a sense of urgency.” He assumes Breckin and Leilan will arrive not much farther into the conversation with their rebuttals and excuses.
Shooting his attention to the foreigner, he quips, ”And what do you plan to do with the island? Can you heal those that are suffering? Do you have followers? Do you command anything?” The storming of his emotions are bullets drumming out of a machine gun, relentless and unstoppable. It’s making him ravenous, his eyes flashing wildly before he pulls himself away and anxiously paces, his thoughts dancing among his family, home, and kingdom-mates.
The child that wriggles within her is the deciding factor after she hears what Breckin has to say.
Always a capricious creature, the genie has grown too still of late. Happiness alone is not enough to satisfy the rose-hued woman it seems, and so with happiness still clutched right (she carries Walter’s son within her womb, after all) she appears in an instant on the northernmost island of Beqanna.
She is not alone - a colorful woman has been accosted by a pair of strangers a few hundred meters ahead. Djinni breathes in the bitter air, and exhales a gold-tinted breath. When it fades she is far better suited for this northern world. The pony now wears a plush coat of pink and white fur, so plentiful that she might be stocky fjord under it rather than a desert horse. Warmer, she steps through the snow until she reaches the other horses.
She had decided, but the decision was simply to do as she pleased. The ties she had to the iron grey kingdom are ties to the residents only, and two in particular. Well, three, she supposed, if she is to count her son.
There are dragon prints in the snow behind the black stallion, and Djinni narrows her yellow eyes as she approaches. Not Lior, she thinks, but Castile. He had been absent for some time, and most of his memories are shuttered away with those of her eldest son. It is nice to see him back, even if he doesn’t seem aware of what is happening. Then again, there is a plague. Who could be entirely aware.
”Nerine doesn’t need a subkingom.” She says, making the assumption that the mare who has accosted the claimant must be the Heartfire that Breckin has mentioned. ”They need safety. Probably warmth, too.” At this a distant tree is suddenly aflame, spewing black smoke into the air as the branches and evergreen needles burn.
Castile asks the same questions she might have - and does so a bit more aggressively, as dragons are prone to do. Djinni does not move off to pace as he does, though. Instead she watches the green and purple mare, her yellow eyes glittering but not hard.
”Were you to uphold your claim on this land, would you welcome refugees?” Is all that she adds, teetering on the precipice of neutrality rather than diving directly into mischief. Djinni is inclined to punish Nerine for stripping her of her titles and rank, but she is not without a sense of (skewed) fairness.
11-02-2018, 02:55 PM (This post was last modified: 11-02-2018, 03:09 PM by Leilan.)
Leilan
Glaciers melting in the dead of night and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
Busy, busy busy. More busy.
Not him, mind you. He's very much pretending not to hear all the fusses, Carnage yelling in their heads and sending images, then fairies yelling and suddenly the ground shook and everything was changed.
Shit.
That's the only appropriate thought he's had so far. The rest - where are the kids, what are they doing, what is Breckin thinking, why is Brennen here, where the fuck is everybody gone to - that's just rambling through his head so very unappropriately.
But he remembered. Like he told Sarkis. Icicle Isle is safe. So, even though he knows that Breckin is already doing all she can to make sure Nerine is a safe place, he still goes to check it out. Heartfire is already there - sneaky little niece; okay, maybe not so little any more. In fact he's quite sure she's older than he, though he can't be sure because Shah hadn't exactly informed him of his life, when Leilan was still pretty much a baby - either way, she is already there, and when he arrives, several others do, too.
He doesn't have wings, he doesn't have magic. He's here now, though, and joins the group with an icy stare to Castile. "Perhaps it's escaped your notice in the disarray, but your queen is very much working towards an inhabitable safe place. We can't all be in the same place, like you weren't at the gathering, Castile, so you wouldn't be able to know that, would you." He huffs with an irritated slash of the golden hairs to his hocks. Really. She turned her head once to address Brennen's sudden visit and at that same time she was supposed to lay claim to a land she had already sent Heartfire to? Perhaps Castile shouldn't have so much time living under on a rock. Off coast. Without further interactions with the kingdom he was supposed to protect.
And now threatened to leave, or at least, that's what he heard in it.
But Castile's minor concerns are not something he wants to address at the moment. "If you want to waste your time bickering over a plain of ice, be my guest. You," he says to the algae-coloured mare, "are someone we can't entirely trust. So you better come up with a plan to make this claim of yours work, because right now, you're facing Nerine, and Nerine doesn't need a threatening neighbour at the moment. It needs a safe place for their children. Though..." he looks around. "without subjects I wouldn't dare call you a kingdom. More like queen of the tiny snowflake." A smirk. A raised brow to Heartfire and Djinni - refugees? Pah. If Nerine doesn't claim this land as a subkingdom, he sure as hell still wouldn't want to bow before a mare he doesn't know to be let in. Might as well run straight into Pangea then.
you set my soul alight
HTML by Vanilla Custard
@[Castile] Avion is away and due to return this saturday/sunday. :|
I see you're not in the Nerine Discord chat which made you unaware of the plans and the discussion about this, so, this is what I could think of to make it work IC (:.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Surprise and curiosity took hold of her when she was suddenly approached by another horse. She turned to get a closer look at the mare, eyes narrowing and head tilting at her appearance. The mare was in a bad way for reasons unknown to the sea woman. Her ribs were showing, body looked weak and fragile. But there was one terrifying detail that caught Camomila’s attention the most. The mare was with foal.
It was concerning to see an ill expecting mare, but her eyes...they were so strong as she fixed them onto Camomila. Her body was frail, but her spirit burned like a brilliant flame. She had something to fight for, something that made her stronger than whatever illness it was that she has. This made the minty mare smile. Not challengingly, but proudly. It did her heart good to see such spirit in one so young. But the sickly mare wasn’t the only one. Camomila had something to fight for as well. “I’m in Beqanna, am I not?” She replied smoothly to the sickly mare. She could’ve been asking about the isle specifically, but that question Camomila couldn’t quite answer.
Camomila looked over when a stallion appeared, cocking her head slightly as he questioned the mare. His tone said that he’s angry, but his words suggest that his anger isn’t directed towards the sickly mare. Either way, Camomila wasn’t too keen on him acting in such a way with her. Her eyes narrowed at him, her soft smile unfaltering as she listened. She didn’t understand what was going on exactly, but she heard enough to get the picture. Something was going on, something which caused alarm across the land that brings Kingdoms to move, or so she assumed.
He turns his questions at her. He makes his anger -assuming it’s anger- very clear to her, and her head tilts a little more, eyes of icy blue walking up and down him with quick examination, silently trying to understand the roots of his current emotional state. Until he started pacing.
Pacing was something someone did when they had reason to worry. The pieces suddenly all came together. His anger wasn’t anger, it just appeared that way because he was worried. Whatever was happening with the Kingdoms had to be the cause, surely. She briefly looked back at the mare then at the stallion, before she finally began to answer. “I plan to claim the island,” her tone was calm and soothing as she tried to give him reason to calm himself. She was no threat to them, and she was going to show that they had no reason to worry more than they already are, despite her intentions to take the land.
“I command nothing from anyone,” she added, but then another horse appeared. And from quick observance, it was yet another expecting mare. Her tone was softer than the stallion’s, but just as serious.
Her eyes softened.
Every time one of them speaks, she listens carefully, taking in every little detail from movement, careful wording and use of certain tones. Every little detail gave her more information, more pieces to a puzzle that helped her figure out what was going on. As she suspected, the Kingdoms were in some kind of trouble, including Nerine, which she assumed these very horses are residents of. The fact that the stallion asked whether she could heal the sick struck her as odd. He could’ve simply asked if she could help those who are injured, or are just in need of help. But healing sicknesses was specific, and there was a reason for that.
She glanced back at the ill mare, thinking over what she had just learned. A mare is ill, a stallion asked if she could heal sick ones, as well as mentioned that their Kingdom and other Kingdoms are alarmed and are moving to other areas, and now this mare mentions that those in their Kingdom need safety. All of these pieces could only fit to make one picture; there was something going around that’s making horses sick, and it’s causing the Kingdoms to move to areas that haven’t been infected by this illness yet. Or so she assumed. Observation can’t tell the whole story.
She looked over at the second stallion as he approached, remaining quiet as he scolds the other stallion. And as he turns his attention on her, she replies with an unwavering tone. “Unfortunately I cannot heal the sick, but I can offer the safety you need,” she began, giving the four a reassuring smile. “I understand how you may all be one edge, and my sudden appearance may cause even more alarm. But I am no threat, I assure you. Clearly you want this land just as well, and I am willing to find an answer that will make us all happy.”
He smirks, questioning whether she’s truly a Queen or not, but she only sighs lightly. “I never said that I am a Queen of anything, and I never said that I have any subordinates. I was Queen, once. But that was stolen from me along with my magic, immortality and home. I want all of that back, only this time, I want to work for it instead of having it all handed to me on a silver platter because of my royal blood.” Her tone hardened a little as she began showing just how serious she was, but her kindness still remained just as strong as before.
“I am willing to make an alliance with your Kingdom if that’s what it takes. I will offer my help whenever the needs arises, I offer my loyalty as well. All that I want is the island, and even that I am willing to share.” She pauses to let her words settle, watching the others closely.
This isn’t really good Dx I was really distracted and had a hard time trying to word things right. And...I’m sorry if it seems she knows too much for someone new. I wanted her to be really observant so she’d be able to figure things out quicker and easier, but she may have done it too well there...I’m a nervous wreck >.>
The red man who arrives is quick to pick at the dragon, and Djinni’s yellow eyes flick to him without a change of expression.
He is not familiar, but she recognizes the smell of him on Breckin, and assumes he is her mate. The spotted mare and Djinni do not share a taste in men, it seems. Djinni looks away from him quickly, content to let the men destroy any attempt at showing a united Nerenian front.
There is a reason men were not allowed in the Amazons, after all.
Perhaps it’s time they’re reminded of their place, the genie thinks. She has watched them devolve, from the first steps of the old Amazons into new Nerine, and she is less than pleased. Still, she is not yet invested (or interested) enough to intervene, and instead continues to observe. The scaled stallion does nothing to rise in her esteem – telling them to stop bickering in one breath and insulting the next – though her estimation of Breckin’s patience certainly rises. Djinni can only assume the bay is gifted in less obvious ways.
When the colorful mare replies, the genie’s attention returns to her. One rose gold brow raises slightly; Djinni is rarely impressed by others. She sees a similar iron strength in this mare as in her first Nerinenian friend, though Camomila is far less abrasive than Castile’s mother had been.
“I like her idea.” Djinni says. That’s not especially surprising, given her capricious nature (she watches the flames spread from the single burning tree to a larger spruce beside it), but it is perhaps in contradiction to her residence in (and thus presumed loyalty to) Nerine for the past decade.
“If Nerinenians are able to shelter safely here, what does it matter who leads the land?” She gives Leilan a pointed moment of unblinking scrutiny, but her tone and expression remains otherwise neutral. “Camomila –“ She doesn’t pause to explain her knowledge of the mare’s name or the wish to know it. “- has experience leading. She’s willing to share her island with Nerine. Unless Queen Breckin desires conquest and expansion more than she does safety for those under her protection, I see no reason to not accept Camomila’s offer.”
She is unsurprised to find their group growing so rapidly, appreciative to know she would not stand this ground alone. She is hardly in a condition to fight. As luck would have it, the first to arrive is Castile. His might could certainly come in handy in such a situation. He is angry, however, and she can hardly blame him. The initial response to this upheaval had been lackluster at best. Had she not acted so quickly, they might so easily have lost this land to an enemy. Though she had acted quickly, without prompting, she had, at least, sent warning to Breckin.
Belated it might be, she is still glad to know the woman would send reinforcements. Perhaps their queen would, in time, rally to the challenge. Perhaps not. Only time would tell, and Heartfire would be ready when it did. So she offers a nod to Castile, one of understanding to his frustrations. Still, this is hardly the place to air such disputes.
The stranger responds to her question then, and Heartfire tilts her head in faint opposition. “You are correct in that,” she responds easily, her voice calm, authoritative. “But Nerine has lain claim to this land already.”
She is distracted briefly by the pink mare when she arrives. She recognizes her, of course. An old face, but one she cannot entirely trust. The woman is fickle at best, and she holds little faith that Djinni is here to support her claim. Her words are ambiguous, inspiring no change in her opinion. If the woman held her neutrality, Heartfire would also hold her tongue. But she would keep an eye on her regardless.
But then Leilan is there, saying all things she might have chosen to leave unsaid. She narrows her eyes briefly upon him, but does not try to interrupt. Brash and overly honest he might be, but perhaps in this situation, it could be useful. A balance for the strange mare that had so comfortably arrived, claiming leadership with benevolence.
Heartfire is rarely inclined to trust strangers. And though this one seems honest enough, given what Heartfire can see of her, it is difficult to abandon old prejudices. And when the safety of her kingdom is at stake, doubly so. She says very little while they each snap their demands, while the seafoam mare offers her steadfast responses, though that is hardly unusual for her. She has always been very good at listening, at hearing, at reading between the lines and finding a thread to pull so that the situation might unravel just so. Just as she would wish. And despite the confusion and rage and sly comments bandied about, still she plucks the string that might play the best.
“We will consider an alliance, but you must know that in times such as these trust is difficult. We will uphold your claim on this land, but you must keep a Nerinian resident in a seat of power beside you. As a co-ruler. You will provide us aid and we will provide for you as well, as we would any in allegiance with us.” She glances briefly at Leilan then, her icy gaze calculating. “Leilan, I think, would be an ideal candidate for that role.”
If she knew her uncle at all, she did not think her would turn down such an opportunity. Not when it would so benefit Breckin. And if there was anyone’s loyalty she could be assured of, it would be his.
Glaciers melting in the dead of night and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
Brutally honest he may be, not everybody seems to like it; the rose-gold mare lets the flames spread and looks to him like he doesn’t belong - what a wonderful great-great (great?) aunt she turns out to be. Heartfire’s look is also scrutinizing, but that is something he can ignore. Under similar circumstances she might have reacted just the same (or worse), so he feels no need for an apology there.
Most of what happens, he chooses to ignore. Let the mage’s magic burn some trees - an ear turns in the direction of the fire, but is then again focused on the green mare. She looks soft; kind, and though under other circumstances he would have let her have it and be glad she would be a good neighbour, in these times she needed a harsher attitude, because others would come and some might not be friendly. Maybe she had it and maybe she didn’t.
He didn’t know her, so he could not tell.
Djinni skips over that fact so very gladly, it looks to him. He ignores her look, instead shaking his head a little in answer to her question. ”It doesn’t. Except that anyone of ours who flees here, will have this mare as a leader, whom we don’t know. I know,” he starts quickly before either Camomila would again assure him she is not a threat, or Djinni would say something again to bring him down, ”you say you’re genuine. You look genuine, I’ll give you that. But I’ve known you for a good two minutes, and first impressions aren’t everything.” Though, he must say that she did withstand his honesty-plus-bad-joke really well. Which told him something - in the end, they’ll probably get along well.
Then Heartfire has an even more idiotic idea than he himself could ever come up with, and he stares at the sabino for a good two heartbeats. Why would she propose this? Doesn’t she want to stay herself, perhaps. Maybe she doesn’t want her children to be born in such a freezing place. Maybe she just wants to pester him with the idea of helping Cam get acquainted with Nerine; he’d be stuck here for a while.
But ultimately it dawns on him that she knows him just about enough. That he would want to keep an eye on things here but never ever betray Breckin in any way possible; never go rogue or would allow Camomila to do so. And so he’s silent a bit more, turning back to the green mare instead, a calculating look to his eyes. Would she accept that? She said she was willing to share, but sharing a land’s safety and taking in refugees from the neighbour kingdom, was a bit different from co-ruling. Though, if she’s any bit smart he figures that they both know that would put him there more as a general and her as a head of diplomacy.
”I’ll probably guard this place from whatever danger or ill-willed creature I find as much as I do Nerine, because part of my family will be here instead of there; whether you’re it’s queen, princess - whatever you want to call yourself as a leader - or not. Up to you if you want to be of any influence on how I’m supposed to do that, I think.” Ah, he’d be on the back and forth anyway, though he always makes sure to show up wherever something of interest is going on. Not unlike Heartfire - but her pregnancy and subsequent baby, would slow her down, he thinks. Plus, it’s icy out here. She might be better off hiding out in some place a bit warmer, or at least, sheltered. Like in the pine forest the former Mage of Nerine seems to like to be burning.
He wonders if she reads minds, then. But nevertheless he thinks burning the trees won’t help the also-pregnant rose-coloured mare either.
you set my soul alight
HTML by Vanilla Custard
Sorry! I thought we were waiting on Castile but the post order is somewhat scrambled already so I guess let’s bring this negotiation to an end.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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
Leilan’s arrival does little to pacify the fire roiling in Castile’s gut. He snaps instinctually at the air near the stallion’s face, a silent opposition toward the aggressor. ”I would like to see how you’d react if that was Breckin and not Sabra,” a venomous hiss slithers past his clenched teeth, but then his attention snaps back onto the foreigner as she addresses the predicament with a logical and languid approach. He listens closely, but what truly piques his interest is the appearance of Djinni – his aunt in some way. The genie’s arrival is punctuated with the combustion of trees. Admittedly, the flames entice Castile; he wants to bathe in them, to let its fingers curl against his scales, but he remains steadfast among the group. ”Does this place even warrant a leader?” He can’t help but ask as he takes the briefest of moments to scrutinize the frost-kissed trees and shoreline. It was pulled from the ocean on the faeries’ whims as a safeguard from disease, but do they really want a King or Queen or Council here?
It was meant as an escape, not a conquest.
Peeking over his shoulder, Castile contemplates Sabra’s safety as she lies exhaustedly on the rocky outcropping just outside of Nerine. He wants her here, to be with her, but the agitating situation provides no room for a healing woman. His conscious refuses to bring her into a place of upheaval and tension. Let her rest on his rocky tower; at least she is out of harm’s way for the time being.
Reverting his flashing eyes to the congregation, irritation still a burying thorn in his side, he regards them all. ”Bossy, bossy,” he quips before an ear flicks back at the sound of footsteps and trouble. ”Figure it out. I’m going to investigate who our new friends are,” sarcasm drips from his tongue as Castile hastily takes flight to investigate the intruders.
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