I am peeling the skin off my face

The filly continues to harvest organs from the tree, leading the bulky yearling to wonder whether the tree is in pain. It does seem incredibly cruel to give a living organism the ability to suffer, but not the ability to defend itself. She asks after his wellbeing, and he casts a cursory glance across his burning shoulder. "I will be fine. It does not hurt after an hour or so." The skin around the lava-marking seems to be harder than the rest of his body, meaning that the boiling magma does not hurt as much as it would do elsewhere. He considers this a very useful genetic quirk, but it doesn't mean he doesn't suffer some pain, because he most certainly does. Castiella thanks him, to which he nods, then takes her leave. Once she's gone, he takes the time to admire what remains of the tree, studying it to the best of his ability. It's certainly interesting, and only once he has taken his fill of education does he flare his wings and take to the heavens, leaving the area and the decimated tree behind.

image: naia-art