That morning Ghost had watched the sun rise, tucked away in the ominous shadows of the Deep Forest, facing towards the Thistle Meadow. The vibrant purples mingled with the blushing sun to create an all together pretty picture and for sometime Ghost wondered why that was, why something's were just... Beautiful. Mother never paid attention to things like this, the raw allure of nature, her progenitors vision of delicacy and fascination laid in the colour of blood as it painted the grass, the trees, the snow, the beach and the sky a macabre scene. There was a certain beauty in that, even Ghost could admire death, taught to close herself off from the world, it wasn't so hard to take life from others. Now, however, the world was changing. Her mother had left a long time ago, she had grown up reclusive, away from Helovia, and upon return she saw her homeland in a different light. Not one marred with her ma's constant whisperings in her coal black lobes, now she was free to judge and observe as she will, make her own decisions. Maybe she was losing her lust for blood, but the ebonite femme highly doubted that, there was still a satisfaction to be had there as her shadow blade ripped out the heart to hear it stutter and die.

Soft, like a death kiss to the wind, she had sighed and turned away from the capturing scene, finding herself roaming the woods well past midday and was still roaming now. This place was haunted, echoes of dying moans and blood curling screams were almost etched onto the warm breeze, it was Ghost's favourite place to visit. So much strife and history, this wood had seen a great deal of things. She'd curled her wings tightly into her sides, a splash of ashen and sanguine tipping the ends, her cloven hooves snapping moss ridden twigs whilst she ducked round burnished branches, strands of onyx mane snagging here and there. It was perhaps another five minutes before she caught the angered voice upon the air. At first, she thought it was the forest, plaguing her ears with a stallion's angered denial. The more she moved, however, the more she realized it was a real stallion, shouting insanity to the wind in a scream that sounded panicked.

She moved out from behind a cluster of trees and stared at the stallion, he was dusky like herself, marred in the same waxen and cardinal, but painted in different places. His hair a thin cascade of sickly white and his face looked diseased, history marking his face through haunted beryl pools, cutting off at the end of his flustered features. Lastly, atop his marred head, sat a proud crimson blade that marked him of, what her mother called, the superior race. Her mind raced back to the beach, a dappled mare and an awkward conversation, that day she had been scared to talk. Frightened to involve herself with others. Now she had learned, her mind still flinching at the prospect of contact with another creature, but Ghost understood this one better. He was trying to deny something she knew very well. Her expression was neutral, almost vacant, as she stepped forward into the stallion's line of sight before stopping a respectable distance away. She toyed with the idea that perhaps it was dangerous walking into such a situation, in the company of an irate stallion all by herself, but she was a cold monster too. Maybe he should be scared. "They say talking to oneself is the first sign of madness. Are you sure you're not insane?" Her voice was soft, emotionless, but intelligent. Lobes perked in interest atop her inky poll.

Dark pools became thoughtful as she watched him spit back at her, his anger seemed to die, but it did make her wonder. What had he been angry about? She saw no one else here, the wood was perhaps empty of most creatures apart from themselves, though she knew that was probably not true. She met his gaze and endured his inspection, her expression still remaining eerie and devoid. Cleft hooves lingered the same distance away, but quivering lips returned his suspicion with another curious question, unknowingly drawing herself into conversation. "How do you know you are alone? Do you trust the forest with your secrets? The inky belle looked about, watching the rustle of leaves upon branches, stoic trunks covered in clingy, green moss. Ghost did not trust this woodland, many battles had scarred it, deep within, it's heart was probably warped; a mad place. Fit for mad folk. Maybe they'd found the right setting for their own souls to reside, even though the stud preached his sanity, the ebony femme still doubted him. She knew her own mind, the actions of the past and the cold urges she had to suppress, instability, she knew it well.

Sleek, obsidian lobes twitched atop her head as the male moved towards her, watching the scarred delinquent stalk her like a wolf would a trapped foal, his sky painted eyes challenging her as he walked. Ghost returned his looks with neutral blinks, her posture remaining the same if not for the ruffle of her feathers, wondering what it was he sought. What would put such a curious gaze upon his face? She stifled a chuckle when he spoke, a question of her own motives and the edges of her maw upturned into a small smile. Her voice light, innocent and soft. "Intrigue. I wanted to know why you were shouting." She walked forwards then, ignoring his circling and wandered to where she could look through a gap in the trees and into the sky. So peaceful, it contradicted their situation. Their setting. Perhaps she would fly up and into the mountains next, where mother had left her.

Ghost turned to face the stallion, her own voice becoming curious and almost fervent upon the air. "I don't fear you. I don't feel anything... Do you think I'm insane?" Her gaze was like a little girls, there was an open nakedness there that displayed all her uncertainty, all her anger, all her confusion. She felt more than she understood, she had plenty of emotion with no means to know it was there. Her body was numb, mother had taught her to suppress them, but now she wondered why? It gave her an odd kind of vulnerability, the ignorant kind, she wished someone would have all the answers and stop the pain in her chest. Stop the anger in her blood. Stop the turmoil in her mind.

[xD no worries I loved his post! ^^]

This male, this stallion, was a contradiction and a conundrum all in one. A small frown had begun to form on her already confused features as she tried to understand each reply the stag made, he touched on areas of thinking she had never considered before and the more the conversation drew on the more drawn in the ebony mare became. Amused by his first answer, she returned his laugh with a rare smile of her own, his inability to trust something she could relate to, but one answer led onto more questions. "Do you trust yourself?" It was a sincere inquiry, her voice light and barely higher than that of a whisper, ears now curved to catch the notes of his vocals as haunted eyes held a strange flicker of interest in them. Before she would have only listened to her mother’s words, now as she grew taller and wiser, her mind opened up to the strangers of the world. Namely the one before her, crowned with his crimson weapon. Her smile slowly fades away and she nods once at his acceptance of her reasoning, intrigue, perhaps that word could sum up this whole meeting.

What he said next interested her the most. She watched his eyes narrow and his voice speak of disbelief at her emotionless talent, at first Ghost said nothing and observed him move, allowing the cogs of his mind to churn her words together. Like a predator closing in on his prey, he began walking closer, his mouth forming multiple questions until finally they stared eye to eye, her body motionless and she met his gaze with the same unmoving pools. She could feel his breath on her obsidian pelt, tickling her chest in warm drifts before finally he retreated back, leaving his last words dangling in the air.

Ghost paused. For a minute or so she said nothing at all, considering his words and deciding her answers to his intriguing questions. All things she had never considered before, things she would never had needed to consider, mother had told her all she needed to know. Or, that’s what the younger, more fragile Ghost had thought. It was different now… Or was it? "What does passion feel like? Is it similar to the warm feeling you get when another’s blood coats your horn and their stillness is almost… Satisfying?" She let that hang there for a moment before continuing on wards, her features still contorted into the same vaguely confused expression, there was no cold deadly intent that you would expect from someone asking such a question. It was eerily honest and innocent sounding. "Emotion is cumbersome, a hindrance, it clouds your mind and breaks your heart. At least, that’s what mother always said. The less attachments I make, the easier it is to kill my prey, the more emotion I feel… The weaker I get, the chances of my own survival go thin." Words, life lessons, drilled into her by a dappled murderess whose gaze had only ever shown her death and decay. The little hybrid spoke the lines easy, almost like a chant and you could tell she reminded herself of it everyday.

Her gaze still tried to capture the scarred male’s, watching each move and expression he made, her mind turning back to the last line he had spoken. "Perhaps I should embrace it, but will I become weaker?" She asked him odd questions, big questions, her gaze turning intense like he was God and should know all the answers to her sorry excuse of a life. This was the first time she’d ever asked such things and her heart thundered in anticipation. Of course she felt emotion, she locked it away in a cold, dark part of herself, the question was. Should she open the cell door?

To Ghost, he was an endless pool of intrigue. The more he answered the more she wanted to ask more questions, but time was rolling on and she was becoming conscious of taking up more of this strangers time without prior permission. It was a strange feeling, like she had a clock hovering above her, an odd sense of worry that she was perhaps annoying him. Was this what they called insecure? Surely not. Not Ghost. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. Why would a little transparent thing like her have insecurities, but what she hadn't realized, was that all these questions were her insecurities. This dusky bull was laying her bare through simple conversation only, thinking on it later, perhaps the lost young belle would find her way again from his calm guidance. If there was a way to be found. She listened to him without interrupting, taking in all of his words, contemplating passion and inwardly she shook her head. No, she’d never felt anything like fire inside before, it made her heart beat in powerful longing.

She looked at him properly for the first time, focusing her mind on foreign things whilst he spoke about attachment, what was it she felt when she saw him? If she was to feel something for this stallion what would it be? Sadness or was it loneliness, the way his words poured out as he expressed his desire for distance when forming bonds, if he formed them at all. The last word that came to mind was wise, though most horses may have said the same things or laughed at the words the stallion spoke, this was the first time Ghost had ever had a conversation with another. The first time she’d let someone this close to her. His words, his expressions, his walk echoed around her mind, so wise seemed fitting.

Finally, the cardinal blushed stud finished with a question of his own and Ghost stared blankly for a moment, contemplating before finally she returned to meet his gaze. A new kind of steel to her shadowed eyes, but she didn’t immediately answer his question, for she did not yet know the answer herself. Instead, the femme returned to an earlier remark with a thought, "Do you live by yourself? Or do you belong somewhere? With someone? I know I have family who reside in herds, though I do not understand the appeal." Outcast from her birth herd, before she could even talk, Ghost had never contemplated trying to go back. She had no need nor desire to. "I'm not sure I belong anywhere, perhaps these emotions might keep me company." It was a vague answer to his last question. Could emotions even keep one company? They seemed to have enough life of their own to do so, though Ghost could not be sure. Again, it was something she’d never thought about.

She felt that feeling of apprehension return, noting that she was asking many questions again without even thinking and the steel in her gaze melted a little to a more uncertain one. She had one more question to ask, just one, would he mind? Part of her screamed, did it really matter? She went with that for now, not having the will to confront her uncertainty and instead went with boldness. "What do they call you?"

[@[Vulture] gah sorry for the late reply selkie dear! <33]

His reply surprised her and she concealed it from her features through an interested facade, but still inwardly marveled that even a stud of such independent tendencies could bring himself to join another group. An outcast band by the sounds of it, he mentioned no herd land to their name, but he did mention their name. Asylum; for drooling idiots and emotionless zombies. It was rather perfect wasn’t it, the one thing this stallion was trying to deny and here he was, contradicting himself by joining a group dedicated to the one thing he rejected. Perhaps his madness lied in his inability to realize his own miscomings, or perhaps he was playing run around with the group’s lead. Who knew? Ghost was warming to his enigma side, it gave her something to mull over, her own mind had been so dormant of late. Ache from standing in one place for so long began to nag her legs and slowly she shifted her weight, ruffling her wings and relieving her protesting muscles with a little movement. She would take her leave soon and take some time to think over the new things she’d learnt, however, there was one thing she had already decided.

"I did not think such groups would exist, how strange the world has become. Care to invite me into your ranks? Or... Patients?" A small laugh bubbled to her lips, when was the last time she’d laughed? Ghost was never one for a clever twist of words, it was either cold silence or a blunt kind of boldness. She knew no other way of communication, her mother always had the snake’s tongue, but she had never learned the dialect. "Maybe I can find some meaning to my life there, even if it just leads to confirmation that I do not belong, at least I’ll have more direction." As she spoke her words became more certain, happy with herself to have formed the beginnings of a plan inside her mind, it was… Nice to have something to aim for. She knew mother would not approve, but mother wasn’t here and she had not been here for a long time. It was time Ghost listened to her own heart, cut off from it for so long, they needed to be reacquainted with each other.

Finally, she was blessed with his name; Vulture. It was low sounding, a strong name, fitting for the scarred stallion who cast shadows darker than most. She obliged by telling him her own name, the little belle would not call this complex stud friend yet, but most certainly an interesting unicorn, she would not forget him and was quite positive they’d probably cross paths in the future. "I am Ghost." The inky mare said simply with her quiet, misty vocals. Just a spirit, watching from afar.