06-30-2021, 12:51 PM
Molech
That’s the beauty of it, though, isn’t it? There are not many who know the true inner workings of other’s minds. The ability to see the intentions of others - their auras, their inner most desires and fears - comes few and far between, leaving the tri-colored stallion with an air of confidence as well as the need to invade, to feed, to give birth to ugly and terrible things fueled by their precious thoughts.
She suspects nothing ill - as they all do - but Molech can already feel the wall that has been built up. It isn’t magic or spellwork that keeps him from diving deeper into her mind; it is her sheer will, her knowledge to not fully trust strangers and to be wary, inquisitive. He snorts softly, wondering if his pursuit would be worth his time. He truly does enjoy them when they are infatuated - frail and weak-willed, just begging for someone to patch them into something beautiful, something whole. “The jungle?” he repeats for clarification, fully listening to her despite the way he attempts to navigate through her mind, looking for something to grasp onto, something useful. His peaceful, lavender eyes glance to the brilliance of the sparkling obsidian horn that splices through the center of her honey-gold forehead, absently wondering if she has used it for protection or if it is only a cosmetic piece that enhances her beauty.
“I’m afraid I’ve never been to a jungle,” he replies with a roll of his shoulders, his eyes falling back to those curious flowers that blossom in the dark tendrils of her mane and forelock. “What about me seems so jungle-like?” He smiles now for assurance and because he knows it is handsome on the patterned patchwork of his face, especially with the luminous pale purple of his eyes.
Her eyes drift from him momentarily and Molech can feel the muscles in his hindquarters tense immediately, ready to spring if she were to decide to take her presence elsewhere. But she doesn’t, not yet, and so when her gaze begins to flit back to him, she is met with a relaxed expression on his face as he wades further into the water’s current, closer to her.
This physical response tells him that yes, she would be worth his precious time.
She suspects nothing ill - as they all do - but Molech can already feel the wall that has been built up. It isn’t magic or spellwork that keeps him from diving deeper into her mind; it is her sheer will, her knowledge to not fully trust strangers and to be wary, inquisitive. He snorts softly, wondering if his pursuit would be worth his time. He truly does enjoy them when they are infatuated - frail and weak-willed, just begging for someone to patch them into something beautiful, something whole. “The jungle?” he repeats for clarification, fully listening to her despite the way he attempts to navigate through her mind, looking for something to grasp onto, something useful. His peaceful, lavender eyes glance to the brilliance of the sparkling obsidian horn that splices through the center of her honey-gold forehead, absently wondering if she has used it for protection or if it is only a cosmetic piece that enhances her beauty.
“I’m afraid I’ve never been to a jungle,” he replies with a roll of his shoulders, his eyes falling back to those curious flowers that blossom in the dark tendrils of her mane and forelock. “What about me seems so jungle-like?” He smiles now for assurance and because he knows it is handsome on the patterned patchwork of his face, especially with the luminous pale purple of his eyes.
Her eyes drift from him momentarily and Molech can feel the muscles in his hindquarters tense immediately, ready to spring if she were to decide to take her presence elsewhere. But she doesn’t, not yet, and so when her gaze begins to flit back to him, she is met with a relaxed expression on his face as he wades further into the water’s current, closer to her.
This physical response tells him that yes, she would be worth his precious time.
YOUR PRECIOUS LIGHT IS FADING
@Bardot