09-11-2021, 07:40 AM
The voice that permeates suddenly through the stagnant and humid air is unfamiliar to Skandar. The black-tipped ears he wears as a bay still remain hidden beneath an equally black mane, pressed against his neck fervently. The mention of Aela brings his heart to rattle against his chest viciously, adrenaline and the heat of anger simmering in his blood. He can feel the fire that blossoms within him, threatening to spill in an aura around him. Skandar swallows it instead, quelling it with a steady breath.
His expression remains terse and sharp, the only reaction as the brindle stallion becomes visible, recognizing him from Aela’s many memories that she has shared. The view of her wound - fresh and bleeding - brings a dangerous heat to his eyes, feeling the impulse to strike what would be two slender beams of red light in a sweeping motion across Gale’s throat, releasing head from the body in one single gaze.
Skandar doesn’t act (though once he might have, when he was a bit younger, a bit more uninhibited, out of control) and instead settles on the now-King of Tephra with a darkened, silent gaze. This situation is not his to evade or weave through; he is there only to assist the growth of the Flower Court, however that may be. Currently, he begins to memorize Gale - his behavior, the way he holds himself and caresses the shoulder of the mare (searching for a reaction, baiting Obscene). He’s committing the pattern of his skin to his own memory, only having seen Gale through Aela’s eyes, each marking and intricate change in color. Even his voice Skandar attempts to digest, that ruthless (almost bored) tone that somehow makes the air seem thicker than it already is.
The bay-cloaked stallion can hear the flitting sound of scales wrapping around Obscene’s skin, but his concentration does not break - the tension between the group is electric and at any moment could shatter.
His expression remains terse and sharp, the only reaction as the brindle stallion becomes visible, recognizing him from Aela’s many memories that she has shared. The view of her wound - fresh and bleeding - brings a dangerous heat to his eyes, feeling the impulse to strike what would be two slender beams of red light in a sweeping motion across Gale’s throat, releasing head from the body in one single gaze.
Skandar doesn’t act (though once he might have, when he was a bit younger, a bit more uninhibited, out of control) and instead settles on the now-King of Tephra with a darkened, silent gaze. This situation is not his to evade or weave through; he is there only to assist the growth of the Flower Court, however that may be. Currently, he begins to memorize Gale - his behavior, the way he holds himself and caresses the shoulder of the mare (searching for a reaction, baiting Obscene). He’s committing the pattern of his skin to his own memory, only having seen Gale through Aela’s eyes, each marking and intricate change in color. Even his voice Skandar attempts to digest, that ruthless (almost bored) tone that somehow makes the air seem thicker than it already is.
The bay-cloaked stallion can hear the flitting sound of scales wrapping around Obscene’s skin, but his concentration does not break - the tension between the group is electric and at any moment could shatter.
skandar
i want to be the bullet
that brings you to your knees
@Obscene
@
Gale