[private] I think that I could die for this revelation; Elio

[Darkling]

Darkling

He had long since stopped caring where his fickle musings led him. As he’d grown into his careless youthfulness, consequence had seemed to become nothing more than a distant concern. Until it had ceased to concern him at all. Still those childish hesitations had served to hone his stealth. He may not have much regard for the arbitrary lines drawn by the blandness of political minds, but that does not mean he is ignorant of their existence.

Perhaps one day he would bear witness to the consequences his blatant disregard. But such future possibilities are meaningless to one who lives almost entirely in the moment. The future, after all, is not his concern.

At the moment however, he is decidedly bored. And boredom and Darkling do not mix well. Whether that is fortunate or unfortunate on this particular day remains to be determined.

However it happens, Darkling eventually finds himself nosing around the hardy, scrubby pines and low-lying ferns of Loess, eyes scanning his surroundings speculatively as he lips idly at the sharp edges of a long, green frond. He hadn’t come here with anything particular in mind, though when his wandering gaze finds a youth who might have matched his color were it not for the dark likeness of blood splashing him, his eyes narrow in curiosity.

Chewing slowly on the frond, he watches him for a moment, blending with surprising ease into the landscape. Of course, should the boy feel a prickle on the back of his neck and actually try to find him, no doubt he would. But then, it is not Darkling’s intention to remain unnoticed. At least, not for long. Where is the fun in that?

Slowly, the shadows around his feet begin the writhe, shifting in agitation until a shape forms. Until a snake, shadow dark with glowing yellow eyes, slithers swiftly forward. Darkling’s humor, for how dark it can be, is not truly dangerous. Not yet at least. But as the snake slithers soundlessly between the boys legs, it’s doubtful he would recognize it for the rather awful prank it is.

you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation

@[elio]

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

As the days wax and wane, Elio begins to feel the tears his father left on his heart begin to heal. He thinks of him less and less, instead enamored by flowering springtime cacti and the whispering voices of his companions. There are better things—more moral, right things—to dwell on, and even Elio himself is tired of his own suffering. Luckily for him, he is developing into the kind of creature that does not wallow in his own suffering.

Elio is lucky, because that suffering is bound to intensify with a cursed father like Wolfbane.

Loess is warm paired with a refreshing cool breeze and Elio thinks, what more can I ask for? The wind blows kisses into his tousled crimson mane. He smiles into the wind, the wings he usually keeps invisible tucked tight and blood-red against his sides.

The soft swishing of grass under pressure comes as no consequence to Elio, though he does cock an ear in the direction of the noise. He thinks nothing of it until it grows closer, swift and river-like in its approach. Elio’s eyes snap open and his head tilts down to study the hissing that now clearly sounds from between his hooves. A snake, black as night, winds around where he stands. Elio starts, half-rearing and squealing. He slams his hooves down to land on the serpent, misses, and then begins a prancing dance backward. His movements are partially coordinated in that he wants to crush the snake, but for the most part it is clear he is trying to escape while keeping an eye on his enemy.

Eventually, Elio snaps his head up to cast wild eyes around for help. The pale visage of a boy in the distance is all he needs to yelp, “Help!”

[Darkling]

Darkling

It’s amusing, watching the panicked dancing on the boy as he tries to escape and crush the snake in turn. Of course, he couldn’t know that killing the snake would prove impossible. Nor could he know the boy he is even now calling to for help is solely responsible for his predicament.

With a low, amused snicker, Darkling begins ambling forward at a decidedly leisurely pace. Meanwhile the snake, having slithered through spindly legs, is on the opposite side of the boy, rearing up as a menacing, shadowy hood flares behind glowing yellow eyes.

In short enough order, Darkling has closed the distance between them, tsking low in his throat as dancing black eyes shift from the boy to the snake, humor etching clear lines in his features. “Come now sir,” he says in a falsely chiding tone, eyes fixed on the snake. “You’re terrifying the poor boy.”

With a flicker of its shadowy tongue, the snake appears to hesitate before dropping back to the ground and slithering swiftly to twine between Darklings legs. It’s yellow gaze remains fixed on Elio as it curls itself up Darkling’s body and across his shoulder before melting into his golden skin, disappearing from sight.

With a decidedly wicked grin on his bright features, Darkling turns his attention to the unsuspecting recipient of his rather unkind joke. “A fear of snakes is good for you, don’t you know?”

you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

It’s a silly dance Elio does, this desperate attempt to escape his shadowed enemy. He gasps as he prances, first frowning then releasing his air in heavy, frightened exhales. The glittering panic in his stormy eyes catches Darkling strolling closer. The snake lifts an irritable, hooded head and Elio’s heart pumps with what he thinks might be his last moments—only to have the creature beckoned away from him. With hooded, confused eyes, he observes the snake slither lovingly over Darkling and then . . . disappear.

“Uh,” Elio says, abruptly lifting his head to peer suspiciously at Darkling. There’s something devilishly handsome about the palomino, something that keeps him from spitting a few vicious words into his charming face. He does allow his displeasure to fold creases into his face, a frown serious but adorably disgruntled clear on his face. Elio finally lifts himself to his full, straight height and peers down his nose at Darkling.

“Don’t you think conjuring fake snakes will instill the exact opposite?” Elio asks with a cock of his head to his left. He uses a stern tone he learned from Lepis, but swallows back a strange shifting in his stomach. Elio thinks that he wants this boy to argue with him, to push him to the side with his shoulder, tell him he’s an idiot for taking everything so seriously . . . because clearly this shadow-manipulating stranger takes nothing seriously—and Elio longs to draw closer to that chaos.

“Why’d you do it anyway?” Elio hopes desperately Darkling doesn’t say something like because I felt like it—he doesn’t think his heart can take it.

@[Darkling]

[Darkling]

Darkling

It is perhaps both his greatest curse and greatest asset in life, his inability to take anything too seriously. He has never been inclined to follow the arbitrary rulebook set out for them by generations past. It’s freeing in a way he has yet to realize. But dangerous too, from those disinclined to appreciate that freedom.

Of course, none of this is something he had ever taken into consideration before. Nor would today likely be the day he would.

Instead his darkly gleeful gaze remains on the other boy, dancing almost dangerously in his handsomely golden features. Perhaps he doesn’t pose any true threat as yet, but no doubt the day would come. He already tiptoes uncomfortably close to the edge.

“Hmmmm,” he hums in response to Elio’s disgruntled question, as though he were genuinely considering it. Of course, one glimpse of his openly amused face would dispel any such misinterpretation. “Who’s to say I want you to be afraid? I merely said it’s a good thing.”

As he speaks, a wicked grin curving his lips, a thin tendril of dark smoke curls around Elio’s neck, tightening briefly before falling away into shadowy ash. An unmistakable demonstration of Darkling’s meaning. Cruel, in a sense, but also a kindness. After all, he didn’t need to explain himself. One could hardly blame him if his actions had served to numb the boy to such a threat instead.

Shrugging, Darkling’s lid’s droop, shielding his impish gaze as he watches the other boy try to hide his inherent curiosity behind the question of why. Truthfully, he had no good reason. He never does. And his answer reflects that in every way that matters. “Why not?”

you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Elio is rigid in his belief in wrong and right. His moral compass doesn’t waver—has not wavered, even when he was a little boy—so when he is faced with someone so lackadaisical, he is entirely baffled. And maybe a little more than intrigued. Darkling’s black, shadowy eyes tell him things his mother hesitated to. They tell him of the kind of mischievousness that can turn a father away.

“Yeah, well—” the pegasus starts, shuffling uncomfortably. His crimson mouth sets as he peers determinedly at the handsome shadow-weaver. A muscle at the corner of his jaw jumps irritably. Elio tries to mask how well Darkling gets under his skin, but it is terribly futile, just as masking his feelings has always failed him. That agitation seeps from him little waves, mingling with the shadows the palomino boy controls. He knows what he is doing, and his brain spasms with an attempt to stop it, but it is very obviously too late.

Elio is projecting precisely how he feels and there is no reigning his magic in.

A shadow wraps its delicate arm around Elio’s neck. His heart hammers violently in his chest. He nearly gasps, though that physical sign of what he is thinking is the only part of his outburst he is capable of controlling. The surprise and excitement roll off his shoulders. Darkling should be able to taste every little sensation.

Elio sighs, closes his eyes and digs a single front hoof into the dirt. When he opens his eyes again, he is still unsure of what he wants to say and it shows in his gaze.

“Because you could hurt someone,” he concedes on an exhale, finally feeling his emotions return to his body. “Can you do anything good with your magic?”

@[Darkling]

[Darkling]

Darkling

Where Elio is rigid in his morality, Darkling bends like the boughs of a willow. Whether there is anything he would truly consider immoral is yet to be determined. After all, he had not yet found the limit. But, as is the nature of young colts, Darkling cannot help but to push boundaries. Especially if those boundaries belonged to another.

The red and gold boy is clearly discomfited by his rather obvious lack of compunction. And that, rather than instilling any sort of forbearance, serves only to provoke him further. Of course, Elio’s inability to control the wild flux of his influencing emotion does not help either. Darkling, for all his wiles, has yet to encounter such a power, and as a result, has no recognition of the external influence. Indeed, his own emotions are already unstable enough, those foreign impressions are just as easily mistaken as his own.

Agitation, frustration, surprise, excitement. Fleeting and unidentifiable to the young Darkling, who has never before had need to closely monitor his own emotions. Padding the edges of his own amusement and dark urges.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected a genuine response to his flippant and question, so when Elio offers one, he tilts his head curiously, examining his companion anew. “How so?” he counters casually, dark eyes glinting with an unnameable light. “I control them. They would only hurt someone if I wished them to.” A faint, speculative grin begins to curl his lips at that. “Would that make me terrible? If I chose to do nothing good with it?”

He doesn’t bother answering the second question. Instead he draws a thin tendril of darkness from his skin where the snake had disappeared. He does not use it to shape anything recognizable, instead allowing it to curl and twist abstractly in the air.

After all, power is neither good nor bad. It is all in the user. And Darkling rather had to wonder if Elio had the gumption to admit he questions the user’s goodness rather than the power’s. As if good and evil were two sides of a coin rather than a continuum of endless gray.

you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation