He is intent on making her stick around. Losing this opportunity - like it had anything to do with the dappled stallion, she just happened to amuse him in a sick way - given here was anyone. Snickers came from his partner, the black one gone. Gone for good hopefully. The thought that came through was much less a sign of the last shred of willpower his sanity still held before the disease was quick to take away. Ignoring the fact that the winged mare was in front of him, and could see his every action, he turned his head towards the figure and gave a glare before it burned away into ashes. Letting something like this feed into his reality was bad enough, and having it in front of this creature was enough. Rain reawoke him, and as his attention turns to her, a smile of almost pure evil comes across his face. 'Pretty little thing if you enjoy that type. Yet she isn't Esfaere, is she? Just kill her.'
A look of disgust comes across his face was his mind begins to break away and speak to him. This goes on for years, and how is it now, that in awkward company of a damned mare(yet he is reminded he refused their prescence for times on end in the past), that cursed mare comes back to his mind. It is quickly brushed away and ignored.
She speaks of the weather, and he ignores it as the weather seems welcoming to such a dark creature like himself. A smile given towards him, and a frown returned to her. Hearing her wanting to leave makes him frown. Why leave when the fun is only just beginning? Though his vocal cords are having a difficult enough time getting around to working normally, but today can make differences if he wishes to.
"The weather isn't much to fret over. Lets not leave when the fun is only beginning. He can throw a sick smile towards her. So innocent, and so lost. A chuckle comes from his. A voice floods for his mouth filled with the macabre sound it carries so well. Just here is a king prepared to take another prisoner. In the distance, he is never alone now. The black one stands in the rain with no voice now; fear seems to have taken over the disease as it can tell it has taken him too far. He leans in, almost to touch her before pulling away and walking in to the stream. Water slips up his black legs, gribbing at him as it begs to take him down stream. In the process of stepping away, he feels like himself step on the flower that she intended to take home with her and simply laughs. Back turned to her, this is some sick enjoyment he is getting that is not fed by the disease, yet by the fact that he was lost to it forever.
"Shajake."

"talk talk talk"

OOC: Sorry he's so weird.