I'll settle for the ghost of you.
He had always been an observant creature and there is no missing the way her gaze lingers on his flames, even in the encroaching darkness. An expression he hadn’t seen since his time in the Den. Memories of whispers begin to infiltrate his head (Dangerous, abnormal, terrible) and he swallows hard as his nervous tic intensifies. Smoke and flame coil higher towards the sky and catch in his mahogany mane as his own shame and uncertainty spirals. Forcing himself to move his point of view from her face to the trail of light that shimmers from her sheer delicate wings, his smile flickering as it becomes more strained then natural.Before he can skirt around her and give her the wide berth he assumes she wants (head held high the way Aela had taught him), her voice draws his feral gaze reluctantly back to her own lavender one. No, she had only been looking. He gives a slight nod in response, once more uncertain of what to say. The same whispers in his head begin to turn into that familiar dark voice, the one that says if she’s going to be afraid of him then perhaps he should give her something to actually be afraid of. The nod turns into a violent shake of his pale golden skull, crimson enflamed tendrils flying in a disarray, and by the time he looks at her again she is focused back on the endless sea of wasteland that he now calls home.
The need to prove that he was in control of his own destiny and choices outweighs his embarrassment and unease, enough so that he only hesitates a little longer before slender pistons carry him a few steps closer to her, just enough to get a better look at the desert while still giving her some space between them. “That’s Pangea, you know… The land made by Carnage, the Dark God.” Anyone born in Beqanna would know that, bedtime stories told to sleepy foals from century to century and one his mother had loved telling him to the point where he knew it by heart.
“I can show you if you want, I live there.” He finally says, the fire curling along his spine still flickering with nerves. “I’m Fyr by the way.” He offers quietly, studying her features as he pronounces it in the way of what flares around him. Despite the white sheen of her coat that is somewhat smilier to Lillibet’s, he doubts this girl will find humor in the other delivery of his name as she had.
FYR
@Allaire