How is his mind so macabre? It suits him so well, and as the gas moves about him he can only breath it in more. This gas seems to fuel him more. A high, if must. He was getting high off of a red gas that came out of a pond where the water looks to be mad of blood. His companions seem to follow within, taking more features to them. Now the black figure has eyes. Red eyes that glow and swirl about like the gas does. The white figure stands beside him, golden eyes that gleam in the coldest of moonlight. Both take on moving tails and manes. They're becoming reality. He can only laugh with his dark, monsterous laugh you only hear from demons in horror movies. Yet the laugh isn't to the public. Its private, private to his mind, and his friends of mental disease seem to join in.
It is only shortly after that does he feel touched by the gas, and the newest of voice comes to his mind.
Esfaere?! It speaks of that little heartbreaking mare? Where is her body rotting at now, Shajake? Oh yes, she's rotting away with the bodies of your father and brother. The words come from his faithful companion whose eyes are the colour of gold lacking a pupil. They match perfectly like a beast painted them over and shoved them into its skull. At this time he can see their mouths moving when they speak. In the distance, the black one follows the same transition, now laughing with a laugh only slightly deeper than Shajake's. It laughs like a drunk man who just found a joke that really wasn't that funny. Everyone is getting drunk and high off this gas.
He steps closer to the waters, the gas moving about his body. It doesn't hurt him; how is something this great seem that bad? He needed a name to this gas, to make it part of his mind. If it resided there, it'd make the disease more interesting. Soon enough, he'd reside there with them.
Green eyes shift downwards to the bloodly water. In them is Esfaere's image, every detail to her down to her purple eyes that held so much life. He stares in lust as she moves about, golden mane and tail made of shining curls moving about. But this is not the mare he knew. The one he feel for. She had always been so innocent, calm, and relaxed over everything that came to her. She had called herself a pacifist at a point. In the time he'd spent with her before she took off, she never ran about and giggled. If the gas was trying to trick him, maybe it would use his thoughts and memories to get the mare better. He could feed it if he wanted to; it was giving him a slice of the past, something that everyone at one point longs for. Is this a heaven or hell right here?
It needs a memory to feed off of to make her perfect. He lets it know of her little purple eyes that at times made even royalty turn and stare at, the way her golden coat gave the Sun envy. Every little curl in her mane and tail, the way she gave delighted smile to him that followed with innocenct giggles and laughs. Sometimes she would come to him and ask for comfort with a sweet voice she used so well. And then at the thought of her he feels another gear inside his head break. Screams errupt from the pair from his mind, and he backs down from the pond. It wasn't taking him now.
A growl comes him as he looks to the gas, taking one black stocked leg and slamming it down into it. His throat is roaring alive. He cannot commonly speak, but anger will force him to break those rules. The usage of Esfaere was not something that was going to please him, yet alone torment him. It brought out the murderer inside him, and caused him to kill.
"And you dare play tricks on a proven murderer like myself?! If you're going to do them, worthless gas, get things right."
He is only following from what he knows with murder. He was young when he had made that sin, and somehow it was enough to please everyone. Though here, as the fire that will become rage to fuel a murderer is there, he cannot have a soul to rip forcefully from its body. Unless the red gas was strong enough to do that for him. Then maybe he could be more pleasing.

"talk talk talk"