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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    Sochi;
    #11
    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
    He hates the silence between them, hates the way she finally looks at him. Each is a knife burying further and further into him as he lies himself down into the grave he dug. This is all his doing, all his poor and impulsive decision-making. All of this, he deserves, and yet experiencing it is a rollercoaster of storming emotions. Anger sits high on its throne, feeding into his every thought as he takes a step backward. Castile’s mismatched eyes cast down to the rocky ground as though it holds the answers, but still there is a silence that unnerves him more than any words could.

    Don’t ever give up on me, he said, on us, but Sochi does not reassure him in the manner he hoped. How could he blame her?

    And yet it doesn’t ease the turbulence firing inside him.

    Every word that falls from her lips claws into him, ripping him open. The wounds, agape and peeled back, burn in exposure to the elements but instead of shrinking away from it or learning, Castile fires back at her. ”Fine!” He barks, the word more resembling a roar. ”Then go,” a snarl stretches back his lips defensively, baring his jagged teeth at Sochi until she turns to leave, her body shifting seamlessly into her tigress form. Castile intensely watches her, all while his body grows, contorts, and changes. By the time Sochi has melted into the shadows, the Loessian King is in his draconic form. A ground-trembling roar rushes through him and stabs fiercely into the cool evening. Fire blazes past his elongated jaws, illuminating the rage across his reptilian face.

    Only a cactus falls victim before Castile launches himself into the darkening sky, leaving gouges in the dirt behind him.


    castile



    @[sochi]

    Just his official close that you of course need not reply to lol




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