Her frown (that uncertainty, that hesitation) does not deter him. The emotions of others were never anything he had concerned himself with and though it may appear that she doesn’t quite believe him, it does not stop him as his calculating mind ticks onwards, always forwards.
The light that illuminates her in tiny, buzzing bulbs grows calmer and more controlled (bringing a smile to that handsome, star-strewn face). A decision has been made and though there is nothing spoken that solidifies this, Skandar takes the fireflies' smooth circles as an answer. “Of course,” he breathes softly into the night air - and though his throat tightens to make it sound as if he is confused, there is no evidence of the strong planes of his violet and orange face.
The stallion pauses, his dark ears tipping back slightly as he continues his ruse of behaving apologetic and contrite. “I know I did,” Skandar repeats back to her, the memory fuzzy and without edges but still enough to cause the heart in his chest to leap - how easy it would be to do it to her again. He swallows the lump in his throat, attempting to ease the bitterness that brews in his stomach. What does she need to hear from him to step just a little bit closer?
“I’m sick.” He mentions it casually and perhaps it is because it’s not entirely a lie that it falls so smoothly off his tongue. “Sometimes I get swept away and something - someone else takes over.”
His burning eyes flash to the soft green of hers. Will she notice he hasn’t said sorry?
skandar
@[Avelina]