broken soul
Lost in the mire of her own transgressions, caged in the images swirling before her mind’s eye, Castalla did not notice tan and ivory mare until a voice permeated the winter night’s frigid breath. In that moment when the faces of her enemies haunted her visions she could not help but whirl around to face the other, alarm sending her adrenalin spiking as instinct took over. She half expected Adrian to behind her, his skull crushed and blood leaking from his head and throat- an unholy ghost. But upon spying an unfamiliar face Castalla caught herself, slowing her turn and letting her shoulders fall- in defeat or relief, she cannot say.
“My apologies.” She offers, uncharacteristically meek. Rarely did the assassin allow her nature to bely her conscience and control, but at times like these it was difficult to tell reality apart from the nightmares. It was thanks to her training that she could lash out and defend herself before she knew who from- and thanks to training that she could stop herself from doing so.
“Yeah.” The single word is accompanied by an empty laugh, her breath forming a cloud of pale mist in the air. She hadn’t been able to get a full night’s sleep in many years. “But I suppose this the best Court not to be able to sleep in.” A wry smile creeps along her lips, though it fails to reach her eyes. “I’m Castalla,” the wolf offered, giving the fireborne mare a side long glance. “I was heading for the training pavilion if you want to join?” Though Castalla wondered what kept this woman awake too, she gave her the privacy of not asking. Castalla longed for someone who understood the burdens she carried, even if she wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And yet she was always so reluctant to shine light on the skeletons in her closet and the spectres that haunted her every breath. The Wolf doubted there was anyone who had led a life like hers, but she was not conceited enough to think she was the only person in the world suffering beneath the weight of their past.
@Morrighan <3
