And he smiled that idiotically bright beam of his, but his eyes were dim and dark like two pools of liquified rainforests melded with the cerulean of all the oceans in the world, merciless and never-ending, pulling and tugging and shoving her into them as if she were nothing more than an insignificant planet being dragged—piece by unwilling piece—to be engulfed by the seething darkness that awaited, like injured prey scrabbling for purchase on slippery ground, only to find claws clinging, digging into her skin, yanking her backwards into the very embodiment of death itself, and she didn't have to look back to know that if she took one look at the beast behind her, she would go mad trying to comprehend it, so negligible that she was in comparison to that creature, nothing but dirt like the dislodged sediments under her fingernails as she screamed and sobbed because oh god don't let that thing near her—and she could see the creature that was fear, uncoiling its wretchedly beautiful body—a mess of roiling and writhing scales and claws and limbs—ones she couldn't dream of focusing on without ripping out her own eyes in frustration—and lunged at her, tearing apart what little was left of her rationality and eating away at her soul, ripping it up into shreds as it feasted on her despair—
And then the darkness around her flickered, and those cobalt-emerald flames she'd come to know so well roared back to life, sending those monstrous creatures skittering and slithering away into the depths, retreating and lurking just out of reach until they were let loose once again.
"Sorry, I zoned out for a little while there," the boy cracked an apologetic grin.
A sane person would have run.
She stood there, a lone figure against this monstrosity of a boy, and smiled back.