Beginning the climb now, his attention centered to a forward direction as the Sun hung in the sky. To the south, the snow had begun to fall and brought forth the fresh signs of Frostfall. This time it would stick, and he was going to get to the place he needed to get to, where solitary confinement would start and he could leave himself to freeze in the peaks of snow bound mountains.
With every journey, one shall always find something that keeps them from getting to their destination. Here you would not blow a tire on the freeway, instead you may find your enemy or the ones you hate the most around the next corner. Tired, worn, broken down and beaten with less energy than what he had come into the land with, he cannot make it all the way into the Steppe. Something else acts as a gateway to the cold plain of death. It whispers his name out to him, or maybe it could be the voices within his head attempting to speak to him. Yet while he might accept their casual mind conversation at times, today was one of those days that he was wishing they’d just shut their trap and not even speak to him.
The Unknown was well upon the idea that the man wanted silence today. Scinfaxi got the memo and would occasionally offer things that might benefit the madman: the presence of a new soul, of the weather that seemed to be ahead, maybe even to watch his step. All of it came in handy in light weight ways and made his trip a bit easier for him.
The walls don’t seem to hold anything that might be of a threat to him. They lacked the sounds of others or the scents of outcasts or herd members. Today, he might of struck lucky and have been left to be alone. His single ear is too busy remaining limply laid on his head to even caught the faint sigh that comes into the air and takes off at the opening that he stands at.
Sighing himself with appreication(though it is not appreication, the man doesn’t know what that emotion is and therefore has no use for it), it clicks into the joints of his black stocked legs and sends him into the walls. Bouncing against the walls and fleeing down the tunnel, the sounds that come forth when his hooves touch ice reach his ear perfectly. The world should be aware of his existance, and as light fades into the ice and snow, he catches a scent that makes his stomach lurch deep into his rear end and make a cartoonish ‘Ewwwwww.....’ at the smell.
It doesn’t really do that, you should of known that your stomach doesn’t talk and won’t flee into the lower ends of you.
He is so close to the Basin and yet while he is aware that he hates everything that fall out of that mountain encased hell hole, he went with Scinfaxi’s idea that there wasn’t going to be any to bother him. He was a corpse wandering about the earth without misery, feasting upon the life of others when he so greedily rips it from their bloody fingers.
Scinfaxi’s idea were always bull crap anyway, but while his mind is never in the condition to even find itself thinking, he lazily went with that thought just because it was there.
It is resting, tired as is he and trying to bring back life to it’s body with it’s eyes shut. His green eyes lock to the black body and borrow into the skin, searching for weaknesses. He gives up after a while and remains behind it like a lurker that he has become.
”Kill it. We both you know you want to kill it now. Let feel your strength and die by your attack.”
He doesn’t reply, which is sad. His brain is made out to silence everything now, to only hear the voice of destruction that becomes the deep voice of The Unknown.

OOC: Hope you don't mind me coming in like this! I completely understand if it was meant for someone.
"talk talk talk"