VINCENT
let death be the deciding factorThere was such texture to his dreams. Vivid colors carried intense flavor, heightening the experience of his revelation. After the black, hours could have past, leaving the tormented with the evils of a intuitive mind. The void composed fecund imagery — thoughts of swirling madness. Vincent's terror never left him, not even in sublimity. The happiest colors brought him back to the steel of Mandrake's eyes, the cold chill of a cunning trigger. It almost felt like he was at gunpoint when he dreamt. Sagging eyes often prowled the night and as soon as dawn's golden fingers traced the land, he was bound to sleep as a child in a blanket. He found that thinking blankly brought him to an oblivious state, pulsing there as the dumb do, and that act allowed sleep to come darkly cold like an anesthetic. But Vincent had not an ounce of time to prepare for the whirring dreams as his mind collapsed under the throbbing pressure of adrenaline. The body forced itself shut — he fell down, and the tremor sent ripples through the rock, across the water.

The chipped fore-hoof twitched sparingly in his ghastly slumber. It might have been hours before he was roused. But in the mind, years past all at once. A lifespan circled around, electric blue, chasing down poor, tired neurons as nightmares devoured him. They chased like shadows, eagerly licking the frogs of his feet, burning holes in his skin like anxiety does. The fear was not as evident as vast shadows or broad abandonment, oh no - Vincent was clogged with his greatest fear, the silver devil. She chased him through dreams and, like a spider, spun him in elastic threads. Sweat oozed from Vincent's pores while the terror of his unconsciousness kept a hellish grip on his dreaming soul. It was amazing, his torment. You wouldn't think that one could drive themselves so mad by their memories. Vince surely was victim of his own illness whether he knew it or not, but his terror was ridiculous. He could die from such a rapidly beating heart and it's a surprise his enormous body could handle so much stress trauma. He would need to wake soon if he were to be alive.

But Vincent hardly felt the prod of the child's horn, his skin responded with a delayed twitch. The filly's touch was hardly enough to shake the nightmare in his head. She seemed to panic, sizing him up, anxiously pacing the length of his body. She nudged him once more, harder, and he felt it this time. Her voice pierced the symphonic cavern and sound ruptured Vincent's brain. The echoes surrounded him, thousands of voices in one moment. With a dull shock the beast's legs sprawled, feathers flying, all at once in motion. Golden eyes snapped open, the dream fell into his rapid wake while moans threatened whoever it was who startled him. Vincent lept to his feet, sweaty skin cold to motion's air. He jumped into the only gait he knew - gallop. Dinner-plate hooves carried him only strides away before he realized he could actually see. The beast spun around, nervous eyes flickering, finding the small, dark girl. He snorted, lovely. He'd probably given this small girl more of a heart attack then she'd given him, if that was possible. Something about her darkness eerily lingered. So small, but so dark.

Vincent's head spun numbly, he kept his distance, not daring to near her. She seemed harmless as the seconds passed. She was probably just as shocked as he was. Onyx tail twitched nervously. It was beyond awkward - just standing, waiting. He shook his head, keeping eyes keenly focused on the small girl. Mane fell messily over his sweaty neck. He uttered a long sigh.

"I-I didn't think you were the one w-waking me up," the stutter hardly could rattle his deep tenor, but the nerves were more than evident. Vincent lifted a hoof, a casual yet cautious effort to proceed. "I thought you were something more harmful."

@[Jorogumo]