Is there laughter in his striking green eyes? Something was moving in the distance, between the trees just further ahead. Weren't you able to see them move about and whisper your name? A dark laugh came from his throat, madness moving through his head before he caught himself and iced over his vocal cords. The figure off to the distance was gone, having moved off with the wind that moved it like a shadow made of ashes. He played the paranoia inside of his brain, broken gears attempting to move and work as thoughts played out. When the broken gears within his mind worked at a slow rate, he was able to find himself close to the brink of sanity. Now the dapple gray stallion wasn't insane, but a plague of schizophrenia had taken over his mind. Beside stood his common companion of the mind, a white shape that lacked the features to make it close to an equine like himself.
Quick bursts of anger moved through his mind as it moved on without him, and as it stood in the trees, surrounded by rolling clouds of low lying mist and fog, it pleaded for him to follow. Every plead was returned with a stare with no emotion to it, with green eyes that pierced the world around. Daylight slipped in through the canopy, falling over in selected places. Watching the shape with ever growing attention, it moved itself into a beam of light and fell away. A small smirk came across the stallion's face, seeing it disappear. It wasn't able to hold it's embodiment long, like a drunk who couldn't ever hold down his liquor.
Moving towards where it had only faded and burned off, the voices spoke to him. Oh Shajake, why do you make me leave when we're only starting to have fun? A grunt came from the stallion in a brutish way, ignoring the words. Trickery and attempts to drive him further off the edge. Somehow the stallion was finding ways to pull himself away from the edge of insanity. Call cleansing if you please, any name you gave it would not come with much gratefulness from him.
His presence was taken note of fast as he passed through the trees. If his mane had been white unlike the black colour it held now, it wouldn't be too much to believe that he was a spirit wandering the area. Some little frightened herd horse would come by and see the large stallion move through the fog and mist like something from a horror movie, and take to sprinting the safety of their herdland. Why would the gods, such powerful creatures, take pity in their weakness and exploit their power to watch over them? It was a sickening thought for him all together.
The birds flew from their branches as the dark figure he'd seen in the trees ahead came forth towards him, causing him only to move in a quick fashion. Panic went shot through his body like electricity before remembering it was only his disease, and this was normal. Further off, the birds made their series of chirps and calls to one another, attempting to be brought back together after their startlement. Sick pleasure came forth on as he smiled, only wishing he had taken one down in the process of moving them around. It wasn't bad for a man to enjoy death, and to see himself as part of it. We all went there, and how could it be frowned upon that one may enjoy it?
Fog thickened itself and rose slightly, moving up to knee height on the overgrown Arabian stallion. Black stockings on his legs were quickly engulfed in the murk, he soon lifting them to check to see if they still existed upon his body. Trees turned bleak gray and black in the veil, and though it was daytime, the world was portraying itself in this place as time of day he couldn't name. For if there is a time of day like so, then daytime isn't so welcoming anymore to the souls of mortals.