Each muscle breaks from beneath his dark skin, dappled coat bursting with a fresh sign of life that comes, oddly, after the beginning of another life. The earth is taken from beneath his black hooves as he moves with a new found pace, The Unknown somehow proud and Scinfaxi confused and silent within a deep thought that Shajake cannot reach within. Laughter seems to be vacant from the lips of the stallion as his green eyes ingite the night. He has come across actions that leave him pleased, though the wound upon his neck is nothing but a reminder that life is not supposed to be created in such a harsh fashion.
Whoever the mare was, whatever her name happened to be, would need to be known later on to ensure that the child isn't as fucked up as the father. Scinfaxi was sure to teach this to the stallion as he walked away, leaving the mare who bolted off into the other direction to make off with his coming child. The deed was done, and he'd be back before she was aware of it. It left him in the sickening, spine shattering laughter that left no one with any sense of humour.
For when a madman creates life, there is nothing to be proud of.
Sands can leap upwards to sting his eyes and add to the strange appearance to him, instead it dares not to reach over his black knees. There is not a sound of breathing, no sign of life. He may appear as a zombie, becoming a part of one of the creations he used to attempt to dramble in as a young colt. What happened in those days exists within a part of his brain that may still be mental. A living, breathing part of the stallion. Works of machinery had left him to this point of taboo, but what machine makes the mind go to the point of insanity?
Something speaks, a sound within the gears and cobwebs that lack a purpose enclosed by transparent brick walls. 'Shajake..... Shajake..... Are you awake? Where are your thoughts? Have you no care as of your past actions? What do you think the girl feels about what you did?' Nothing. His reply is a stretch of sanity that lives only within those walls. The strength of transparency keeps them from breaking out into the open, where they can breed with themselves and make him partially normal again. Over time, there had been thin chips broken from the walls, yet the disease he faces on the inside takes quick note, and an even faster action, and goes about fixing it without words. The Unknown seems to take part in that job, having done everything to make the green eyed man more insane.
"LIFE." 'He hears you.' "LIFE. KILL IT." Yes.
The presence of new life remains The Unknown that Shajake had to be created for the job of killing those that needed to be killed. It is a sick style that he works with, taking more pleasure with letting his victim look as if it had defeated him, only to their bloodied skull beneath his might within the seconds that follow their sadist idea of victory. The wound from the mother was on his neck, thin towards the top and opening up as it slid south, exposing something that could make a medic who had seen everything vomit. Yet, in a weird way, the madman takes no note as of his wound. It is there, it bleeds as he keeps a fast pace, it should create pain that travels to a diseased brain, but instead, the brain cannot take in the pain and accept it like expected.
Life, in a shortened form, has only to turn it's head at the idea of Shajake feeling pain. Nothing wants the man to know that he is alive, that there is blood in his veins, thoughts in his skull, a sane section of him that can be brought forth with the right treatment, and a breath to fill his lungs.
That there, was the reason when he breathed, there was no sound. In order for the sound to arise, he must accept his life.
Scinfaxi, The Unknown, nor Shajake, lost in a deep veil of sweeping darkness that held no depth, but fell endlessly, wanted to accept that one thought.
An eye takes note of the life The Unknown has clearly picked out to be killed on this night of darkness. The crescent moon above is surrounded by billions of twinkling sparks, adding light to the area. Both bodies are dark, one residing on land and the other within water. Something about this place could jump start the stallion to remember a fight with a young Unicorn colt, one who expected himself to rescue a girl that Shajake thought he knew. One that liked to believe that Daisies could be spies, and that they needed to be taken home to mother to be beaten for its unkown crimes. How sad, how lacking of a good body that could of been used to make a beautiful spy.
How sick.
His single ear, it's mate long lost, ripped away when he happened to lash out at Scinfaxi in blind anger. The idiot that painted girl had been that night.
Yet, what was lost was never missed. He never took note as of the fact that he only had one ear now. The remaining one worked with a speed that claimed unnatural, lifeless yet hearing the sounds of his prey's breath over the waves. The ocean claws upon his hooves as he stands tall, darkening smile sweeping over an endless pity of insanity that cannot claim its depth just yet. Shajake is still falling, but while his sanity runs its fingers over the cliff walls, the rocks that crumble away and fall faster than him breathe clinks that sound like screws falling from his gears to the base of the transparent walls. You're almost there, they say. Each and every day, they always tell him 'You're almost there,' when he never reacts the bottom.
The prey seems almost as lifeless as the madman until it moves, reaching into a bag mounted upon its shoulder and pulls out a plant, chewing upon it. It slips out to a distant place, he can almost feel it go there when the night whispers the truth to him. Instead of going in, he stands upon the beach. Salt water would burn his wound into awakening his brain to a nanosecond of sanity, letting him feel the pain that screams upon him.
'Take time. Take your time with this one. Remember a child is something within a warmth we cannot feel, who waits each day to know that you exist.'
Everyone must find a reason to live at some point, regardless of how long it takes, and how insane you might be. .

"talk talk talk"

OOC: Sorry for the delay! Shajake is a character you can't just sit down and expect to write out because you want to. He needs muse to get done the way he is supposed to.