The Valley

He briefly skims her thoughts, but there is nothing really worth commenting on. The usual fluff that fills a mare's mind. He notes, with a little interest, that she is sensitive towards his ability, and somehow he must be projecting his emotions onto her. He doesn't particularly care enough to find out more, why this happened.

She apologises and he is satisifed, and his anger sinks and he manages to say; "It is called Gemstone Ridge. Perhaps if it is not to your liking we shall move." Any land would do, really, he was not particularly picky. Gemstone Ridge had attracted him because it had a stallion, and a fair-sized herd. He believed this to be a positive sign for the land. It could obviously hold life, which was what Hamilton intended to nurture within it.

If he had wanted, he could have gone through her thoughts and picked out her memories; but, he was not particularly disposed to wading through years and years of memories to get the gist of it. He did not care, to tell the truth. She was entertaining him, and that was enough for now.
"And you'd rather be a breeding machine for me?" he asks, teasingly (joking but not quite). "Well. I guess you don't get a choice." he adds, reminding her of the chains that bound her to him. Reminding her that her welfare depended on him. "I intend to give you a choice, of course."

She apologises again and with a mouthful of fluff from her mane, he says; "I did ask, didn't I? Would I have asked if I didn't want your life story?" Although his words could be taken as harsh, his voice was friendly and the tone lightly laughing.

"Tell me more about yourself. Anything."