10-07-2021, 07:51 PM
Molech
“You’d be surprised how many people are willing to lie,” Molech replies, that terribly misplaced forked tongue sliding from his pale golden lips in a flicker of slender black, tasting the moisture in the air that is intermingled with the scent of fresh river water and the jungle flowers in Bardot’s dark hair. His purple eyes are curious, his body relaxed beside her with his great tri-colored wings folded neatly into his evergreen sides. His face is suddenly sharp, however, almost accusing as if he is begging her to reassure him that she is, in fact, not one who would lie to him. He could never stand for falsehoods - he required loyalty and devotion beyond all reason.
Molech cannot let the question go unspoken and so he asks her abruptly:“Were you?” He clarifies with a tilt of his blazed face. “Being kind?” The hardened angles of his face soften with a gentle blink of his lovely eyes, a handsome smile creasing his mouth as his question hangs sharply in the air, heavy and baited.
He is a liar himself - perhaps the biggest one of them all, feigning love and adoration (which is really just a twisted and sick manipulation). He’s even gone so far as to plant himself into their lives, choking their breath like a weed kills a flower. His smile is gruesomely handsome, undeniably attractive, and not in the least bit concerning except for the way his eyes remain glassy and still. He is no longer joking at the moment - the way she answered would determine his next steps.
He has forgotten all about the jungle, only that she had promised to take him and yet stands before him claiming that it is off-limits. He snorts sharply, thoughtful and calculating. It felt wrong, her reasoning for not being able to take him with her and there is a tension drawn across his spine as his wings shuffle gently at his sides. Molech’s lavender eyes narrow, glancing up at the onyx horn spiraling from Bardot’s head.
“Have you lied before, Bardot?” He asks darkly, his gaze clicking to hers the moment the question dies on his lips.
Molech cannot let the question go unspoken and so he asks her abruptly:“Were you?” He clarifies with a tilt of his blazed face. “Being kind?” The hardened angles of his face soften with a gentle blink of his lovely eyes, a handsome smile creasing his mouth as his question hangs sharply in the air, heavy and baited.
He is a liar himself - perhaps the biggest one of them all, feigning love and adoration (which is really just a twisted and sick manipulation). He’s even gone so far as to plant himself into their lives, choking their breath like a weed kills a flower. His smile is gruesomely handsome, undeniably attractive, and not in the least bit concerning except for the way his eyes remain glassy and still. He is no longer joking at the moment - the way she answered would determine his next steps.
He has forgotten all about the jungle, only that she had promised to take him and yet stands before him claiming that it is off-limits. He snorts sharply, thoughtful and calculating. It felt wrong, her reasoning for not being able to take him with her and there is a tension drawn across his spine as his wings shuffle gently at his sides. Molech’s lavender eyes narrow, glancing up at the onyx horn spiraling from Bardot’s head.
“Have you lied before, Bardot?” He asks darkly, his gaze clicking to hers the moment the question dies on his lips.
YOUR PRECIOUS LIGHT IS FADING
@Bardot