Despite his greater size, Vincent was the smallest thing in their unplanned gathering, the most minuscule of creatures as he shook and trembled, cracked lips opening and closing as though babbling a litany only he could hear. He was spotted, but glowing-golden eyes could not look away, locked and staring upon the forms he had so ignorantly traipsed upon.

For a moment he stood still, aside from his obviously quaking massive frame, looking around, giant head twisting from left to right as though searching for someone to save him from this situation that he had found himself in. No one would come, however, no matter how long he waited or prayed. He was beyond salvation, beyond redemption, and the thought rattled around inside of the cavernous echoes of his skull, momentarily drowning out everything else. How should he react? What should he do? Run? Hide? Yes, yes, yesyesyes. If the consuming exhaustion had not held him so firmly, keeping the behemoth's thick legs rooted to the earth, he probably would have done so... But alas, he was stranded, forsaken by his own ailments.

The stranger spoke, and through the darkness, Vincent could barely see the smile that crossed the spotted specter's lips. A smile? Why? Why? 'Don't be,' he said, as though brushing aside his pathetic apology, this creature with a voice that was far too soothing for one such as Vincent, 'I'm Ashamin.' The dark monster remained still, lips twitching, glowing golden eyes remaining rooted to the specter, this Ashamin, fear clutching his breast and stealing his words, closing his throat and choking, choking, choking...

At his side, Claribel released a pitiful whine, sitting upon her haunches and pawing at Vincent's robust left foreleg. She whined, wire-grey fur pulled back and pinched along with her expression, and deftly she nuzzled her nose against her bond-mate's leg, trying to pull him from his panicked state of anxiety.

Suddenly, air breathed life into his lungs, into his limbs at Claribel's motions, sanity giving way beneath reality, and Vincent heaved in a mighty breath, stuttering, coughing, before managing a weak reply. "V-V-Vincent,""V-Vincent." His name, not as mighty as his twin's. Never as mighty, as daunting.

At Ashamin's following words, Vincent's bulging eyes turned towards the two deer-like companions, watching them carefully, noticing the panic of the little red and the subdued acceptance of the other. They were not attacking... And they wouldn't. Right?

Claribel whined once more, bringing Vincent back to the present, back to the real-world.

Dwarfed? By him? As meek and timid as he was, Vincent easily forgot that he was of massive, unnatural size. His movements were always slow, always clumsy, as though he was trapped inside of a body that was far too big. Even when he ran, he would trip, stumble, and crash into anything that so much as got in his way.

"S-sorry," he said again simply on principal, this time to the two Cerndyr, his breathing calming ever so slowly, golden orbs continuously glancing to Claribel, the Wolfhound's grey-blue gaze warm, understanding, loving. Then, Ashamin's inquiry caught him by surprise, but not in the terrified, panic-driven kind.

Was he lost?

Yes. Yes, Vincent had been lost for a very long time.

"Y-yeah. Um, I... I am. L-lost, I m-mean." Stuttering, always stuttering around those who were new, strangers, terrifying and unknown, inarticulate and dumb. So dumb. Not perfect. Not worthy. A terrible, terrible son... "Do... Do you have sh-shelter? That, th-that I would f-fit in?" There seemed to be so little shelter around them, save the trees, but Ashamin seemed patient, and kind, and welcoming.

He did not snap at Vincent for intruding, for interrupting his peace. He did not cajole, heckle, or antagonize the black beast for his stuttering words and glowing parts, did not poke, prod, or make fun of... Ashamin did not attack, was not hostile, instead patient, paternal, and kind... While not convinced that he was safe, never safe, Vincent felt his hairs lowering, his pounding heart slowing, his breaths coming easier as his throat loosened...

"A-Ashamin." A whispered statement, simply to himself, said out loud to remember Ashamin's name and taste the way it formed along his tongue. Vincent had forgotten a lot of things in his solitary self-exile, but he promised himself he would try not to forget Ashamin's name. It was a promise he would probably break, but it was good to have goals.