He visibly relaxes, listening carefully to thoughts as he gently unfolds them, wondering who her father is and if he’s anything like his own. Molech snorts softly, a slight tension in his jaw as he clenches his teeth at the thought of Maugrim - a fearsome entity who had berated him in his first few days of birth only to be left alone when he did not possess the same manipulation of water. And for a moment, when she pulls water from the river, there is anger in his eyes - it is quick and a flash across the lavender of his eyes, but it is there nonetheless. A violent anger, one that is bottled up and kept on a leash, kept quelled by the young boy’s own ability to control the dark thoughts that twist and turn inside his mind, thankful that he is the one that can read minds and not the other way around.
That flash of rage is quickly replaced by a look of awe as the water follows to her sides, grasping and clinging there as if the droplets itself belonged to her - loved her. The soft look on his face is perhaps the only genuine and true emotion from him in their entire meeting; she is even more spectacular than he had already deemed her being and now even more so does he wish to make her his. As she comes to join him, her tinkling voice sending shivers down his spine, the young boy reaches his muzzle to hers, the white of his searching for the cool, clear, and sparkling of hers. He’s nearly forgotten to continue to read her thoughts, enraptured with this beautiful girl that so willingly spills his heart to him, almost flattered that she would find him so trusting. “You’re so lovely,” he tells her, his lavender eyes finding hers with a gentle click.
She even smiles at him when he knows he has given himself away; perhaps she has chosen to ignore the break in his facade or merely missed it, but either way, Molech is grateful for it. Especially when the coldness of her mouth finds the heat of his deep teal shoulder, awakening something terrible and deadly within him. With a soft tilt of his head, he wonders if it was possible for her to shatter, to break into such slivers of glass and stars that she would simply cease to exist, or if he could keep a shard of her beautiful blinking eyes just for himself to stare into.
This thought gives him a genuine smile, handsome and charming. Her confession is something that he can relate to more than she could imagine, but Molech is not one to share the vivid and violent details in his young life. The aura of fear that he had entrapped her with dissipates and with it, she comes all the closer to him. “You do?” he asks innocently, though he cannot concentrate with the crystal of her sparkling body curling in beside him - it should not have been this easy, but he feels as though it just might be. He encourages the contact she gives him by softly whispering to her, “You can’t leave,” with a gentle sigh, his eyes reflecting the gurgling waters of the river before him.
“Tell me your name.” A command, as luscious and flowing as the river before them, masked with gentleness in his voice. You can trust me, he adds delicately into her mind, placing it there like a rose on a coffin.
molech.
@[clementia]