Molech is used to the sometimes overrun feeling he can get from filtering through too many thoughts at once. This time, however, he is blatantly reminded of when he had attempted to read his twin sister’s thoughts and a sour expression finds his handsome face. Normally he is able to keep a semblance of calm exceptionally well (he wouldn’t want anyone to know his real thoughts, of course), but he can only hold it at bay for so long. This girl’s thoughts are quick in succession and barely leaves him time to interpret them. His patience that he once had is already gone.
The teal and white colt bares his teeth, his ears falling into his mane simultaneously. That terribly black forked tongue emerges as his golden mouth opens, flickering angrily. “Stop that,” he hisses, not caring that the charming facade that he normally aims to create has fallen away and that bitterness has replaced it. Of course she would have no idea what he was referring to, but the colt didn’t care. Some were not worth attempting to trick. At that moment is when she bites down on one of the feathery things without so much as a thought (not that he could tell with her), and his angry expression softens just enough so that his mouth closes around his teeth and tongue. Curious.
She hasn’t attempted to move yet, merely looking up (down?) at him with her exceptionally red eyes that match the bloodiness of her gums and teeth. He huffs, squinting slightly so that his dark teal eyelids fall around the lavender of his eyes. Her actions are oddly reminiscent of his mother - that careless way she holds herself, confident and reckless. He licks his lips - ones like these were not preened for his type of torture and he quickly concedes to giving up any charade he might have been planning for her.
He is not surprised when her speaking voice is just as fast as her thoughts. If anything, it’s a bit slower and somewhat easier to understand.
Help with what? He looks at her incredulously, his gaze flickering downwards as his head lowers just a bit, as if trying to meet her eye level. Molech glances at her hind leg that has gotten all sorts of wrapped up in the vines, his own thoughts attempting to infiltrate the stage that hers have taken up in his mind. She accepts help - quickly, of course - and though his head is already beginning to throb with her constant and rampant thoughts, there is a hum of satisfaction in his throat.
Perhaps she is not the willowy and soft and gentle creatures he preferred, but there is an opportunity here - a learning experience that could still benefit him in some way.
“What’s in it for me? If I help you?” His eyes flicker back to her, a dark mischievous glint in those pale purple irises. The sky above the forest churns gray with clouds that threaten to spill more frozen crystals onto the snow that she lies upon. He could easily leave her here. With all those fast-paced thoughts, he just might.
molech.
@[Wight]