She turns from him and he snarls disappointedly. But it was then that his dark violet eyes draw themselves to the blaze that beckons on the horizon and his indigo ears no longer lay flat against his neck. The near-palomino girl takes off running from him and, for a moment, he watches her retreating form before allowing his gaze to fall to the inferno once again.
In a way that Skandar could not describe, it called to him.
Not even a minute had ticked by before he falls into a full-out run behind her. It is only when the fog begins to entangle them that he realizes she is slowing down - they must be nearing the epicenter. The land is not scorched as he had anticipated; a forest of pine trees surround them, thrumming wildly with magic that Skandar could not place to a source. He then realizes he had slowed down far too much - Aela’s figure is gone within the smoke and mist, somewhere within the shadows. His eyes burn bright red for a few solid moments, scouring the unfamiliar area with a tight-set jaw.
The sound of a crow catches his attention, lifting his burning gaze up into the tall pines. It squawks at him once, twice, and then flies deeper into the forest. The colt snorts sharply before pawing a deep divot into the soot and pine-needle ridden floor as his star-studded skin begins to ripple and peel. The burning red of his eyes diminishes into shining, beady black and when the rest of his body finally settles, his shape is a large crow flying upwards into the canopy.
From the sky, Skandar could easily find the knoll in which the activity thrums. He has half of a mind to perch on a branch and watch from the sidelines as a nameless stranger, but it seems Aela has other ideas. The memories and ideas that trickle into his mind aren’t his own and despite his complete disgust at the intrusion, he smiles inwardly (for can a crow’s obsidian beak smile?) at the chaos that trills excitedly.
The crow’s feathers start to ripple as it soars closer to the group - he spirals over them, inspecting each one that stands below him. He hears their words but does not care for most of them; he is drawn to the vibration of magic and power, hungry and lustful. The black feathers begin to peel back and flap most disturbingly, revealing the indigo and deep orange of his true color within the movement. The bird dives in a sweeping motion out and away, and just when it seems he is about to crash face-first into the ground, Skandar himself comes trotting towards them instead.
He halts a few lengths behind Aela, indifferent but staying close to the one who had led him here in the first place. His galaxy skin still vibrates with adrenaline, rippling excitedly as if in any moment he would become something else. Those around him are enticing - their spiraling horns, the dragons, the dead souls - he nearly fidgets with the thought of taking each of their physical attributes and wearing them. His face - when it falls to the boy with the strange mouth - peels back slightly in the same tri-fold way as if testing the feeling of it, committing it to memory.
Skandar says nothing, but if any of their gazes fall to him, he will not be able to help the burning red that will begin to glow threateningly in his own irises.
skandar