Thought Contagion

The rest of the veritable army of youngsters piled into the lesson, all eager to cosy up to their mother (or aunty, in some cases) and learn what she knew. Indeed, Absinth was a pillar of strength that was worthy of envy- an idealized figure to emulate. She was quick to continue her lesson, to insist that with each new interaction they would be creating and altering their perception of the world around them. It was a way to adapt without having to physically alter their forms, instead honing instincts and sharpening their senses. This would be their key to succeed in the world, instead of merely scraping by. So as she circled the group of children, as she had in lessons prior, the dark furred boy held her gaze evenly and met the expectant stare with an inquisitive, demanding expression of his own. He wanted to know it all, and he wasn't going to be shy about it.

His mother demanded that he be careful and scrupulous, to assess each individual as a collection of traits. To anticipate things that had yet to come, and to seek out the weaknesses in those around them for exploitation later. Subtle things like changes in gait or the way the eyes of strangers fell upon or away from him, cues of weakness or inferiority. Ivory tipped tail swished against his thigh excitedly, eager to begin using these skills to improve his placement in the world around him. He watched her attention fall to his other siblings, the ones who found themselves leaning to the art of battle already. Imparting useful tactics for turning a faltering landscape to their advantage. And then her attention was back to the remainder of the children, and that strange adult who he didn't know.

A fateful warning escaped Absinth then, that they ought to beware the possibility of their perceptions being manipulated. That they could easily misinterpret the ways the world and its inhabitants moved around them. They could become victims of lies, to be handed a version of reality that a stranger would rather they see, and suddenly be at their mercy. The boy's features screwed up in a small scowl, fangs bared at the notion of becoming someone's victim. The pale fae doubled down on her cautionary tale, assuring the children that if she were keen to have someone else see her as weak or in some way lesser, she would allow it. Only so that she could slaughter them for their ignorance. As she should, in the boy's mind at least. She'd more than earned the right to kill anyone who would question her might. He nodded lightly in agreement with her reiterated warning to be on guard, to question the motives of those around him. Yes, that was smart, and he wanted to be a smart boy.