He cannot exist as a subject to change that occurs over a daily basis. Life moves onward with a break neck speed that nothing can slow, except for the existance of something that exists completely outside the natural flow of time. Mind and body were already basking in the envelope of darkness that broke apart the land, intwining with his mind to create something dreadful. A small rabbit had gotten to close to him, sadly, and become a prey of hunt. Blood covered his hooves, the sound of painful cries escaping his prey with its dying breath. 'So sick. Let it die, why won't you?' The Unknown finds a button to push somewhere within the process of thoughts and maybe sanity within the stallion's skull, blocking out the voice Scinfaxi can break into the man's head.
Futile. As normal.
The head lowers, a heavy built structure that holds elegance that seems unreal to something so dark. The red liquid is deep and bursting out with the life it is expelling with a thick flow, glittering in the stallion's green eyes. He smiles, not much of a smile, but instead a demonic mark. It needs to be stitched up, to fit him perfectly. Who will take on such a horrible job? No one wants to, no one has the balls enough to get close enough to the madman to even touch him.
Yet someone, maybe just a girl who can hold a lot of bravery and acts of stupidity, got herself somewhere she didn't need to be in the end. Shajake played a good enough job in her downfall. He'd have his skull at some point, making her his single goal. He needed her blood, the feeling of her skull cracking beneath his strength and the sound that would follow with a lovely "CRUNCH."
Achieving that goal is more difficult than thought out.
One more sound breaks from his kill, the slain body that lays underneath his mass. For moments that last to oblivion, there is silence. Then, as if the death was a forecalling to what was to occur, the night ends with a soft caress, ending it's reign as twinkles of starlight fade and a larger, stronger glow errupts from somewhere across the icy sea. His green eyes catch it with curiousity, the full extent of these moments not allowed to process now. The Unknown, sensing the return, fades into a mass of ashes with a gust of wind as the sunlight burns apart his body. Scinfaxi, on the other hand, stands to bask and welcome it. The white mass with golden, pupilless eyes stands beside the dark, green eyed man with pleasure. Shajake remains lifeless, making not a sound. His weight shifts.
Crack.
The crack of bones causes the man to jump, brought out of some sort of trance. His head was raised at some point within the rising and brink of daylight, when it really occurs an unknown point in an endless timeline. It is brought back down, and as if to add to the idea of him being a serial killer, his muzzle touches the blood that stops its movement now. A pink tongue parts his mouth, touching the pool that surrounds him. The taste is something he cannot define, but to add to his scene, he enjoys it.
And this is the man expected to raise a child? What was the world to expect of him when the kiddo was to be born?
Noise fills up the empty feeling that lingers about the Steppe and the northern sea, his laughter returning once more. Scinfaxi fades now, breaking away to a sanituary deep within Shajake's mind that The Unknown cannot find. He parts with words that seem something only he could say. 'Don't fuck up the kid, Bastard.'.
"talk talk talk"