What is it that causes this girl to be so confident? He cannot find any wavering in her gaze; no weakness that trembles or frailty that shakes the slender of her bones. She is unlike anything he has ever come across (though, perhaps Leijona would be his only comparison - even then, his sister has a softness behind the teeth and claws, behind the earth she moves and shapes to her every whim) and it infuriates him and yet, in the same breath, enchants him. Either she has never faced defeat or she hasn’t come face to face with a force that has brought her to her knees. Skandar cannot tell which and though his curiosity is roused, he considers the quiet notion that she is one of few words. He wonders why that is so for if the way her countenance is held so proudly, he thinks her mouth would do much more than smile so prettily at him.
But that is all she does - smile and smirk and give him electric blue gazes, blinding and sharp. Skandar snorts sharply, made even more curious by this enigma before him and finding himself unable to pull himself away from her magnetism. He is nearly certain she will reach out and touch him as the lava drips despairingly from his face, a suspended moment between the two of them that fizzles and cracks.
Another memory of her own suddenly enters his mind and with a gentle tilt of his head - questioningly, thoughtfully - his body quivers and ripples, peeling in slivers that flicker like the wrinkled skin of Tephra’s blue waves. It does this for a few moments, like it always does before it settles on her image.
His body is rough and dark, splintered and worn by cold and angry unceasing waves. It is an easy form to take, for many times he had become part of the earth just so Leijona could learn to manipulate it. The Nerinian stone is different than the earth of Tephra and the young colt tries hard to keep the shape that he has yet to see with his own eyes. Skandar’s gaze remains bold and brilliant against the grey stone that he has become, moving a few inches closer to her in unhurried steps. His movement makes the rock scrape against each other, grinding and groaning as his now-stone joints carry him forward.
“Anything,” he murmurs carefully, attempting to answer a question she hasn’t yet asked him. His voice is quiet and low, hushed as he inches closer - as if telling a secret that is only for them to share. “I can become anything.”
skandar
@[Aela]