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]