It didn't matter the age difference between them (days), the fact that Theo had any semblance of control over his magic automatically made him an expert in Iskra's mind. What made him great though, was that he was willing to share this expertise, and that he didn't laugh at the rookie status of those around him.

Mom never told him when he asked.

So it didn't matter when Theo said things like "just happens" or "can't control it," because they were overshadowed by the spectacular displays that he made happen, that he could control. Again Iskra felt that intimate invasion of Theo inside his mind, words gently stoking against his thoughts the way his wing had drifted across the boy's shoulder. All at once Iskra's feathers prickled on their ends again, and his nostrils flared as he breathed "Whoa."

The feeling ghosted away as quickly as it came, and as Iskra's feathers relaxed, he involuntarily shuddered at the abrupt absence of the presence that had kissed his consciousness. He wasn't sure if he could do it back, but Iskra took his friend's words to heart and concentrated real hard on the words "did it werk?". His 'brows furrowed with the focus, and maybe even a bead of sweat or two started to appear on the edges of his eyes or around his ears. Behind him, unseen, the sand began to stir faintly once again. Little granules, as if caught in a breeze which didn't pass over the boys, lifted from the rest of the ground and swirled in the air behind Iskra.

"Well?" iskra asked suddenly, the sand dropping at the crack of his voice, the easy smile having replaced the serious line that had traced its way from his eyes to his lips. "Did it?" he asked slyly, clearly referring to the question he'd directed into Theo's mind. "It felt like it," he confessed with an exaggerated pant, his tongue lolling from his mouth to accentuate his point.

Another pause then, a quick recovery from his 'winded' state as he drew himself up to a greater height. A gleam of mischief caught the corner of his teal eye as his head turned faintly to the side, stare never breaking from the emerald gaze of his firefly. "You're it!" he attempted to blast into his friend's mind with an abrupt confidence in his abilities, not even having waited to hear if his first attempt had worked. He blinked afterwards, and then he was, gone.

Like a crack of lightning (or so it seemed to him anyway), he spun on his haunches and fired off from the spot, sand kicked up in his place and then some as the magic carried it higher than his hooves. Little legs pulled out at the air and caught the sand instead, pulling it under him with greed. Iskra was running full bolt, but he risked his balance to shoot a look back over his shoulder, his grin flashing just above the downy feathers of his baby wings tucked in tight against his sides.