[All that remains in Zekarion's expression once he lands and darts back to give himself space is focus, devoid of any other emotion—no anger, no alarm, no concern, no ego. His posture is tightly controlled, wound like a spring, ready to move at any moment.
If this shadow had merely threatened him, he might bother with a verbal response, but he has nothing to say to anything that's directly attacked him. It does not command him, but it would learn that soon enough.
Then it tries again. Zekarion does actually go through a proper dodge now as he sees those tenebrous hands heading his way, but halfway through his movement, Rosen has it covered again—with a much, much better idea this time.
He watches, alert, as the thing screams. He's not letting his guard down until he sees it reduced to ash—but he does shoot a glance towards the true arkana, to assess the state of him.]
no subject
If this shadow had merely threatened him, he might bother with a verbal response, but he has nothing to say to anything that's directly attacked him. It does not command him, but it would learn that soon enough.
Then it tries again. Zekarion does actually go through a proper dodge now as he sees those tenebrous hands heading his way, but halfway through his movement, Rosen has it covered again—with a much, much better idea this time.
He watches, alert, as the thing screams. He's not letting his guard down until he sees it reduced to ash—but he does shoot a glance towards the true arkana, to assess the state of him.]