06-15-2021, 12:08 PM
Molech
For him, it has always been their innocence.
Pure and untouched, swathed with hope and joy (all the things he does without) - those are the ones he searches for, pines for. They ache for romance, for loyalty, for love; and he is the one to give it to them, whatever they wish. Some, however, see him for what he truly is and still accept him. Those ones are the most fascinating by far. They either are infatuated immediately or indifferent (much like the golden mare with flowers in her mane). The latter is a little bit more challenging, maybe, and requires a bit more effort in his game, but they are all the more rewarding because of that very reason.
He offers her an easy, handsome smile as he slips further into the river. He does not mind the slight rolling of river rock beneath his hooves, accustomed to such things as one would be when they do not live anywhere else. Molech’s welcoming gaze falls onto the strands of deep green in the darkness of her mane, where they seem to intertwine and grow with the aid of the water’s closeness. His head tilts curiously, the deep goldenrod of his long mane now floating gently in the river’s mild current.
“I’ve never seen flowers like that,” he comments idly, all the while wishing he had his father’s abilities to pull unsuspecting victims beneath the water’s surface - how perfect would it be to encase her here before him, without an escape? “What are they?” Despite the terrible thoughts that meander through his mind, he is genuinely curious. He knows only of the water lilies and the cattails that surround the river, as well as the misty pines that border the curve of ever-flowing water. The ones tangled within her mane and tail are completely foreign to him.
The stallion flicks his tail, though most of it is submerged in the cool water. “You can call me Molech.”
Pure and untouched, swathed with hope and joy (all the things he does without) - those are the ones he searches for, pines for. They ache for romance, for loyalty, for love; and he is the one to give it to them, whatever they wish. Some, however, see him for what he truly is and still accept him. Those ones are the most fascinating by far. They either are infatuated immediately or indifferent (much like the golden mare with flowers in her mane). The latter is a little bit more challenging, maybe, and requires a bit more effort in his game, but they are all the more rewarding because of that very reason.
He offers her an easy, handsome smile as he slips further into the river. He does not mind the slight rolling of river rock beneath his hooves, accustomed to such things as one would be when they do not live anywhere else. Molech’s welcoming gaze falls onto the strands of deep green in the darkness of her mane, where they seem to intertwine and grow with the aid of the water’s closeness. His head tilts curiously, the deep goldenrod of his long mane now floating gently in the river’s mild current.
“I’ve never seen flowers like that,” he comments idly, all the while wishing he had his father’s abilities to pull unsuspecting victims beneath the water’s surface - how perfect would it be to encase her here before him, without an escape? “What are they?” Despite the terrible thoughts that meander through his mind, he is genuinely curious. He knows only of the water lilies and the cattails that surround the river, as well as the misty pines that border the curve of ever-flowing water. The ones tangled within her mane and tail are completely foreign to him.
The stallion flicks his tail, though most of it is submerged in the cool water. “You can call me Molech.”
YOUR PRECIOUS LIGHT IS FADING
@[Bardot]