In a way that he has yet to discover in the handful of others he has met in Beqanna, no excitement breaches his chest save for when he is beside Aela. He’d never admit it, of course, and though he feels as though the golden girl has some sort of insight into his mind (with her ability to shower him with her own memories), he still would not find it within him to remark on the thrilling chill that travels down his spine when they are both together. He is nearly vibrating, even though he is only shadow and darkness, wondering what sort of plans that she has for them in this endless night.
Skandar is not at all perturbed by the insidious ring that hangs heavily in the sky, nor the lack of stars and light. Why be afraid of something he can easily become? Perhaps a naive thought, but for one as young and powerful as he is, the reasoning is sound - he does not have room in his heart for fear, only for himself and the select few that he silently deems worthy, like the stunning girl beside him. She glances away from his shadowy-body and into the darkness; he turns as well, his orange eyes nearly glowing in the pitch of the night. Creatures are out there, rifling through Pangea (and all of Beqanna) without any hesitation, creeping in the darkness, crawling against the canyon walls with slick, black bodies that seem both fully shadow and fully real.
When Aela turns to face him again, Skandar does the same. He is expectant, patient. She has yet to disappoint.
In a moment, she feeds him her desires.
Fire dances before his eyes, red hot and burning. Light. Though there is no real shape of a mouth in this shadowy-form, Skandar smiles. The dark tendrils of shadow that float out beside him suddenly draw inwards, folding in on themselves. He vibrates and flutters, the sound of wings permeating the still of night as his skin becomes solid and the flayed pieces brush against each other.
The lava of Tephra breaks and cracks like fissures along the blackness of his body. He remembers the lava flows and how their light glows brilliantly against the dark nights, bold and steady and dangerous. His body remains black as onyx, save for the cracks that run like veins across his skin, the orange glow pulsing with the life he gives it. Then, almost unnoticeable with the brilliant magma that flows continuously about his body, his mane and tail burst into flames.
His light illuminates the near-gold of her skin and he looks to her eyes, silent and waiting. Would the creatures be drawn to his light, like moths to a flame? Or are they like roaches, set to scurry away from the brightness? His orange irises glow gently with a soft hum, preparing himself for whatever may come from the darkness, as well as whatever Aela had planned for them.
skandar
@[aela]