Her disappointment is not lost on him. That same scowl that nearly always finds his indigo lips placates it now - wrinkled and bitter, unpretty on his handsome face. Rage burns something fierce within his soul, perhaps outwardly shown by the brilliant red that seems to always glow in the violet of his eyes. Though he tells himself that it is beneath him to want the approval of a mere stranger (a silly girl, at that!), Skandar cannot deny the fact that there is a incessant need to prove himself that drives many of his decisions. The beam of light that leaves his irises is nearly uncontrollable; it travels through the air with an unearthly sound, burning into the tree directly behind her as he purposely misses. His gaze fixates there for awhile, ensuring that the tree itself has splintered and blackened, before a swift inhale brings his eyes back to their natural, violet color.
There is regret for the smallest amount of time on his face - not that he had displayed such a threatening display of his ability, but that he hadn’t the gall to pierce her in a single sweep of his gaze. All it would take is a mere look - a glance - and her head would separate from her neck as easily as a hot knife through butter. Skandar isn’t necessarily looking forward to the mess that would come after. It would be only so that the disappointed frown would disappear from her face forever.
She, however, then matches his intensity with her own mischievous grin. It does nothing to soothe the furrow of his brow or the fact that his ears have long since disappeared into his neck, but the thought of sending his lasers through her is not as poignant; calmed, in a way. She glows briefly and it is in such a way that Skandar wonders if the light she wields is anything like his own - but that is as far as his mind can get, for soon after, she sends a vision of something to him again.
Skandar snorts sharply, his mouth rippling into a snarl.
Though he does not adorn the dapples nor the buckskin color, the skin just behind his withers flicker and flutter, sprouting those dark wings she had envisioned. They fall out of his sides almost like water, splaying outward and to the ground once before Skandar pulls them up in one graceful sweep. The galaxy-studded colt uses the wings (for he won’t maintain them long, for he is only using a memory of a memory to conjure them) to bring himself face to face with her in one fierce swipe, landing solidly before her in a huff of hot breath and dust.
The moment his violet hooves make contact with the ground again, he ripples and his skin peels away to mimic whoever had been in her memory. “I am not a dog for you to command, girl,” he spits at her, snaking his head forward to snap at the bridge of her blazed nose. He calls her a girl because she is one, but in a way that makes him seem less of a boy. He brings his chin to his now-dappled chest with a scoff. “Do you lack imagination?”
Slowly, his skin begins to ripple once again, his dark legs the first part of him to slowly become the shadow that hides in the shade of the trees that surround them.
skandar
@[Aela]
idk what this is but it was fun to write