Rain drops fell upon his dapple bodied, waking him up more than he needed already. The air held a crisp, cold breath to it, and as he let a sigh be released from his black lips, a cloud of fog rose. Thunder spoke to him in the distance, he already listening to it as his mind attempted to him something to this place to work him up. Being in the Woods, surrounded by trees, fog, and limited amounts of sunlight had only left him to wonder what was taking him here. Far off in the distance, close enough to see the outline and basic shapes, yet see no features, stood the black figure that was haunting him. It still spoke to him, begging the green eyed stallion to only follow it more. Lately Shajake was becoming sick of it enough that he had followed it. Far out of the deepest section of the Deep Forest, and into this strange place here. He'd only been there for two hours before the first rumble of distant thunder awoke the world, and the rain drops fell in slow yet steady waves. The whisper from the figure came out, pleading with him more. Snorting, he took a few steps before moving into a steady trot.
It only took a couple of minutes before he came upon the section of area where the dark figure had stood. Now it had left him, and his old friend came out to visit him. Unlike its twin, the white figure had always stayed close to him, and fed him dark thoughts. Dark thoughts that included him killing others, taking life from others, and feeding his darkness more. Over time he decided to name the white figure Kwiussa, after a stallion he'd known in the past. Someone of the first few to feel his darkness. Kwiussa stood next to him, feeding him more thoughts. A barrier slide up and over his broken parts, yet the ghost-like essence of the picture always slipped on through the concrete and spoke to him more.
He turned to face his correspondent before it burned away into invisible ashes. A voice, a real voice broke the silence inbetween the rolls of thunder and rain falling from the gray mass above. Recently his broken up mind was set upon aggression and exciling himself, yet the voice was more female than a male's. Having only met the guys here, it brought to his attention that a female brings more possibilites.
She wasn't too hard to see moving through the tall grasses, bouncing and leaping about. Automatically she annoyed him, a frown of annoyance sweeping across his face. She was heading towards a stream, its outline already able to see as a break in the grasses. A stray thought of seeing her fall into it and hurt herself, hopefully hit her head on a rock, and kill herself. He laughed inside of his head, vocal cords never holding much usage after the loss of his brother. They were frozen over like ice, and most of the time, he didn't wish to take the time to unfreeze them.
His pace was steady before he found himself close to her. This close, he caught her talk about trying to get across the stream. Green eyes went to the stream, the waters racing. A white figure appears to his left, the mare forth up to his right, and he can feel the whispers of thoughts the figure gives him. 'Kill her. Kill her. Kill her now. She'll be easier to kill than anyone else, wouldn't you know?' He smirks at the given thoughts, the darkness overtaking his mind and pulling the strings. The disease was becoming his puppet master now. Yet looking out across the meadows, there it was again. The same phrase being repeated by the black shape. His mind was only to the white figure's thoughts and trickery, therefore he let himself step into the moving waters to shift towards her.
It didn't bother him to be in the rage of the water, the rain fueling it only more. His black mane and tail fell flat and heavy over his dappled body, the irregular blaze over his face jutting over his right nostril. He wore perfect smile as he approached her. Now he could see her well. Wings, odd colours, and her actions only told him she was somewhat dumb. This, if you have dark thoughts across your mind, was the dinner bell ringing. Now only to get her attention.
Within his neck, he was able to feel his vocal cords attempt to revive. She would want conversation one way or another, and he wasn't much to displease a maybe victim to his wrath. He seemed free enough to let out a chuckle towards her, hoping this was enough to catch the winged mare's attention. Someone like himself was completely ready for any annoying thing she would give him. In the distance, there was no more dark shape begging him to follow. It was only the white figure, feeding him more and more dark thoughts. These thoughts fueled him as he approached, darkness taking over. Voodoo doll to the disease of the mind, and right now he was the voodoo doll doing all the fun here.

"And here lies the words of a man void of a voice."