He was high with despair, drunk with melancholy, lost in a numb sort of fear and sadness that had settled heavily upon his heart like a weighted yoke laid around his thick neck and about his broad shoulders, holding him down and pinning him to the stone earth like a wolf delivering the final kill to its prey. So lost in the recesses of his own mind, sinking and drowning and dying so very, very slowly, Vincent's ears did not pick up the softly trilled beckon from the dragon, nor did he realize that his hiding spot from the rest of the world had spoiled and expired until that voice... That voice shook him to his core.

'Deceiver, face-stealer, Vincent.'

Terror unlike anything he had ever felt laced through his body, starting at his heart and spreading like wildfire, like acid through his extremities, lycing through his bloodstream like a hot knife and cutting his flesh away, ripping and hacking at his hulking frame until nothing but his panic, his fear, his anxiety would remain, laid barren and exposed for his would-be murderer.

Molten golden orbs, wide and panicked, rolled upwards to land upon the solid, dark form of his killer, his torturer, the white of his eyes showing and displaying terror unlike any other, and the rune that marred his right eye began to glow with bright, terrifying ferocity that mimicked the extreme emotion he felt inside. Recognition did not worm its way into his cracked cranium, so wrought with panic and fear, so Vincent did not know that he had met this draft youth before in the Threshold... No. This darkling prince was the bringer of his demise, the demon he had been hiding from, the Reaper that She had sent to collect his debts, his failures to appease, to be a good son.

In his blind panic, in his turmoil and terror and heart-stopping fear, Vincent could only see his brother, his dear twin, Archibald standing above him, over him, looming like an identical shadow sent to bring his head back to Her like a trophy.

"N-no!" He bellowed in profound stutters, hooves scrabbling to find purchase upon the slick rock, limbs flailing and legs pushing his massive, hulking frame closer to the cave wall, huddling like a terrified colt and cowering from this young demon, massive skull low to the ground, ears pinned, sides heaving and a sweat matting his dusty black coat. "I d-d-didn't, I'm n-not! I-I... V-Vincent!" The terror laced his vocals, high-pitched in strain and horror, sounding nothing like his usual low baritone. "A-A-Archibald, I didn't, I'm not!"

@[Abraham] <333

swimming through the ashes

Dread. Panic. Horror. The stuff of nightmares, really. The stuff of promises, of rewards, should he fail. Should he not be a good son. Demons and devils, killers and swindlers, they were all after him, and this child... This child! This demon-prince, this... This Leviathan. He led them all.

The Shire's heart beat wildly within his massive, sweating breast, beads of terror-driven perspiration dripping and running down his colossal, dusty black form. The whites of the stallion's eyes were barely visible beneath the glowing embers of intense golden emotion, of intense despair and abhorrence.

When would it end?!

"NO!"

A scream, high pitched and twisted like a victim, a dying scream of the damned, driven by fear. By terror. By hopelessness and by demons.

"S-S-STAY AWAY!"

Sharp bellows of inconceivable horror escape the giant's guffawing maw, and it was with the alabaster dragon's actions that sent the behemoth into motion. Flames and sharp diamonds. Sharp claws raked the ebonite giant's croup, pulling tufts of ebony hair and scratching the skin beneath, and in a speed that was both surprising and terribly blundering, Vincent pushed himself up onto quivering pillars of bone and flesh, and suddenly the cave seemed far too small. Breaths came in large, hiccuping, half-swallows that couldn't hope to fit all of his frame.

Out. Out. GET OUT! His mind screamed for release, for freedom from this monster, for retribution and salvation from his fears... But not by him. Not by Him!

Ducking his massive head close to his equal-sized chest, Vincent pushed away from the dry, cracking earth, hooves slipping and sliding on the cobblestone-like grounding. He abandoned his nook of hiding, driven out by this soul-stealer, and ran. Through his mad-dash to escape this demon-prince, Vincent's considerable bulk slipped and slide, surely crowding the said youth, but that concern was gone, replaced by heart-stopping, mind-numbing terror.

Run. Run. Run!

A litany replayed itself over and over in his head, the words screaming and demanding and willing him to run... And the voice, surprisingly, did not sound like 'Her', but of 'Him'. Of Archibald.

... Do you love me, brother?

Through the caves he ran, slipping, sliding, and running into sides of the cave wall in such crude ways surely the Gods themselves would be offended. Driven by madness, by terror, by the demon, darkling-prince and his homicidal dragon, Vincent left his cave of hiding and burst forth into daylight, the sharp sting of the sun in the sky burning his eyes and forcing them shut. Still, despite his blindness from the intense, merciless light, the ebony draft did not stop. Sweat clung to his frame, stinging his eyes, maw agape and sucking in large breaths of air... And still.

He ran.

@[Abraham]

ooc: Sorry this is late, Time. <3 Not sure if you wanted Abraham to follow, but... xD

swimming through the ashes