He wonders at the way her aura shifts as soon as she notices him, the way the yellow morphs into greens that swirl bright like emeralds, like jade, like entire forests come alive to dance across her skin, invisible to all but him in a way that satisfies his ego. Green means curiosity, it means that she is as taken with him as he is with her, and the knowledge only serves to deepen the smile at his mouth until it draws careful creases at the corners of his warm eyes. His aura would be green too, if she could see it.
Then she’s moving towards him and there is something in her eyes that feels entirely delicate, entirely fragile, and he notes the swirls of teal that dance beside the purer greens with a softening in his gaze. Attraction, he realizes, and his buckskin wings lift and flare with an inherent arrogance all their own that is still entirely new to him. He should be glad she likely knows as little of the language of wings as he does. There is no warning before that shade of murky gray washes over her, before it smothers everything around it like smoke through her forests of green and teal. Her discomfort is like a briar under his skin, and for the briefest moment he wonders if it is something in him that she objects too. His closeness, his wings still flared wide for her, the glowing golden feathers along his shoulders and tufting from behind his ears. He would not blame her for finding him strange, he still thinks the same of his own reflection some days.
But then her voice finds him, soft and breathy, and even though she steps away from him there is a new strand of orange that winds through her gray. So curious. Orange is extremes. Bold and brave, upset and regretful. Orange is hard to place with so little context.
Yet -
“Sure I can.” He disagrees, and there is a light in the warm honey of his eyes as his navy mouth twitches with a small, secret smile. “Pasts are always changing, evolving with the layers we add to them.” He steps closer to her again, closing distance he no longer thinks she wants based on the swirls of deepening red throughout her aura. It should feel like spying, to know without a doubt that she finds some kind of attraction for him - perhaps in his grin or in his eyes or the shameless way he reaches out to touch his mouth to the corner of hers for just a moment, breathing in the scent of sea and summer and her. “Spend the day with me.” He does not pose it like a question, and from the way those warm eyes shine with amusement, it likely sounds more like a dare.
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@[Persea]