When her violet eyes find him again his disgust in her is easy to read. But he's given up on his attempt to make her squirm, and that says something. Even if she isn't exactly sure what. So sorry to have disappointed you, pretty boy, she thinks as her brow rises in a mix of satisfaction and wonderment. If the sour look on his face is any hint to inner monologue, shes sure he's whipping up a storm of scathing observations.
"If you hate the sight of me so much, why do you hang around?" She asks with less hostility than before because, at this point, she's honestly curious. Maybe he really was someone's errand boy given the unfortunate task of rooting her up, or a distant relation with something to relay. But she thought there was little possibility of either of those ideas - they only surface because there is even less of a chance he still wanted to be here chatting with her, lingering just within speaking range as not to be soiled by a common Sylvan bitch.
"I'm sure a stallion like you has important matters to attend to."
The euphoric sensation of the light in her veins begins to fade, and her features lose their (metaphoric) glow, settling again into their normal, less-than-beautiful arrangement. Celest wonders if she should prod him for a second time just to see him bristle, to bait him again to feed her magic. But she stands her ground instead, just as she had for the last five years.
"Don't let me distract you." A dismissal or a generous release, he could decide.
I'm not a girl,
I'm a storm with skin
![[Image: celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/bc93/f/2018/277/3/d/celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png)