As he smoothed his hand over the velvety surface, the light shifted behind him, the low slung sun dipping behind a cloud. When he turned his head this way, the color turned a deep green. His forefinger arched, nail digging into the fibers, and sketched out a swirling 'S'. As the sun reappeared, the unintentional marking twitched and tugged a gasp from Peter, who dropped his quill into his lap, spilling the small ink bottle. The blackness seeped over the 'S' and drowned whatever had been there.
When Peter finally tore his eyes away from it, someone was in the room and he cried out before realizing that it was just another student, and felt the familiar heat of embarassment coating his skin.