Wide, molten-gold oculars eyed the child with obvious nervousness, the rune marring his right eye seeming to spark to life with a dull, resonating glow. His eyes, deep pools of unbridled emotion, also glowed dully, expressing the fact that he was struggling with some bout of intense emotion. One large, dinner-plate hoof slid back from the stream, then another, large muscles twitching and tense and ready to propel the hulking beast from the shoreline, and away from this little winged creature should she prove to be a threat...

All Vincent could see was this youth of white and black, and while she seemed unassuming and innocent given her age... So had Abraham. A youngster when they had first crossed paths in the Threshold of Helovia, the headstrong, demonic colt had grown, and had seemed to have actively sought out Vincent in hopes of separating his head from his neck. No... Just because this creature, this child was young, frail, and tender looking, did not mean that she was safe. He wasn't fooled. The only individuals it seemed he had been around who didn't try and drink his blood had been his brothers... Especially Archibald. Oh, how he yearned for his twin...

... What would you think of me now, brother? Cowering from children?

Dainty spots decorated her coat, and the black brute's faintly glowing eyes roamed the filly's petite frame, over growing muscle and thin, toothpick-like legs. Well, maybe not to her, but to him, many things were small... Soft hazel oculars regarded him with a surprising amount of kindness from beneath dark, elegant lashes, and for a long moment Vincent simply stared unabashedly at her. Gauging her. Wondering when she would gnash teeth in his direction and lunge for his jugular.

And then... The She-demon spoke, and her voice wasn't like that of a demon at all. Soothing, encouraging, refreshing, gentle... Warm. Loving.

Still, the abruptness of her sweet, melodic vocals caused the gargantuan stallion to balk, head snapping upward and hooves scrabbling one step back. 'I won't move, Sir,' she stated softly, comfortingly, as though she was the one in the presence of a frightened colt, 'I will stay right here, but I don't want to leave you alone in the state you're in.' She went on to say more, but it was lost on him. Vincent's mind swam with her words. 'State that you're in...?' Twisting his head, the ebony clad Shire glanced back at himself, taking note of the dirt and grime, sweat and dust, matted his hair. It was only after he looked back to her that her later words seemed to take root within his large cranium. A bath...? A friend? Did she want to be his friend?

His only friend had been his brothers... And even then, that had been fleeting, since he had been certain that She would send them to slit his throat and collect his head. Perhaps, even, only Archibald had been a friend... But he had been blood. He had been more. He had been Vincent's everything.

"I..." Desperately words tried to form themselves from his throat, his deep voice a pitch higher due to his uncertainty, of his fear and extreme anxiety. With the words that tried to form from his lips, the beast's rune and eyes began to glow brighter, and his sides began to heave in panic. What did he say? Should he run? Should he hide? Still, in a fit of rare boldness pushed forth and nurtured by the kind hazel eyes of this uniquely winged filly, Vincent managed to croak out a few more, stuttering words. "I... V-Vincent. My n-n-name is Vincent."

@[Myrrine]

ooc: amg I love them so much I'm dying

Well if I don't surface soon I may never
And say farewell to this odyssey