The sound of her cry does not stir anything within him; nothing that can be seen outwardly, nor even recognized inwardly. He is nearly emotionless as his burning gaze sears into her skin, unphased by the smell of singed flesh and hair, mesmerized by the shimmering blood that now trembles down the slender gold and ivory of her foreleg. The dark violet of his lip twitches as the light in his eyes returns to a brilliant orange, fixating on the open wound a moment more before aligning his eyesight with hers.
There is nothing in him that does not suspect Aela to meet his bold action with that of her own - he fully expects retaliation and does not move from her when she comes closer. The air is thick between them once again, the scent of blood and burnt skin amongst the palpitating electricity that shatters between them. She is quite literally a breath away from him, her pale muzzle hovering at his jawline, where his throat pulses with an insidious heartbeat. Can she hear it?
Skandar fails to notice how Aela’s blood has fallen on the stone (as had been the plan all along, right?), far too enraptured with her silent and brooding eyes and the way her breath makes him nearly frozen.
The young stallion’s ears fall to his neck as the heat between them rises, becoming uncomfortable but he did not have the strength (nor the will) to move from her. There is a sharp snort from the violet of his nostrils - a warning, maybe - but it does nothing to stop her from alighting fire at his throat, seemingly to slice the precious artery that thrums there.
The moment is beautiful, Skandar will think to himself when he looks back on it later.
He screams in a way that she had, his skin flickering and peeling uncontrollably as the white-hot pain sears the deep swirls of orange and purple of his neck. Blood flows easily from the wound, bright red and dripping. Skandar nearly believes he will stay in this moment forever, with her burning him until he is nothing but ash and bone - but clarity finds him eventually. He finds the strength to pull away from her (even though the motion is hesitant) so that the blood that trickles down his chest and stains the deep galaxies of his legs now feeds the bone-bare tree that watches both of them silently.
Skandar’s skin flickers as fire dancing beneath the deep starlight-colored pieces.
Now they both will burn.
skandar
@[Aela]