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