The night had only just started its time when the voices brought the dapple gray creature to life. They were there with him constantly, more of stalkers than friends as he saw them at times. Being the only company he was ever given, it never bothered him much to have them around. Yet as one repeats the similar phrase he is common to, the other says his name to awake him. He'd slept through the day, having taken time to sleep in the shadow of the trees. His recent trip out of the forest left him tired, yet he wasn't given it too his companion. A quick breath and he pulls himself up, standing in the moonlight. Bats move overhead with him, his vibriant green eyes searching the area around. What made a stallion so handsome like himself stay here? Mistakes and grief, the voice of a monster. Looks weren't everything to him, yet what may have cursed him was his eyes. They held a glow in the darkness, like when you shined a light in the eyes of a cat or dog. His mane and tail fell like black satin over his hind legs and neck, black stockings climbing up above his knees on each leg. On his face lay an irregular, awkward blaze, a light gray instead of white, that slide down the left side of his at the start of his muzzle. The rest was an eery, pale gray with dominant black dapples across his body. His companions, though only he was able to see for they existed only in his mind, were the solid colours of white and black. The black begged for him to follow it to a place unknown; the white always stood beside him or stayed within ten feet of him, and plagued him with words to make him kill. Again.
Before he moves, the white figure moves beside him and flashes away as he juts his head about to see the creature, or should he say being? It lacked both, therefore there was no name to give it. Sounds of the night take hold, and he makes himself part of it as steps are taken forward. Steam becomes mist as it exits out of his body in a breath, parts of his soul moving out with it. Nights have gotten colder. He reminded himself to be prepared for Frostfall. It'd be welcoming him soon enough, and he needed to be prepared.
Something seems to break the silence ahead. The black figure stands closer, within twenty feet of him. Looks of annoyance take over his look. It screams at him with what brings horror to him in the night. TURN AWAY. TURN AWAY. HORRORS OF SEEN MONSTERS LAY BEFORE.
Why is it now that it says something different? He ignores, knowing that it was only playing tricks to him. At a point he'd been stupid enough to follow it, where it led him nowhere. What would change it now? Yet ahead he can see the forbidden pond ahead. Its red waters bring him in like sharks to chum. Blood, or at least something that resembles it. It draws him closer, till the gas appears.
His pace is ended, the white figure moving into it. A stray thought of warning it not to move into it comes to his mind, only to be blocked out as he remembers it is part of his disease. The disease that plagues his mind, makes him paranoid and see things not there. Hear the voices of something that truly doesn't exist; but this red, swirling gas is real. His green eyes remain locked onto it as it approaches him, before it wraps around his legs. Before he can catch himself, and maybe rescue, he finds himself walking towards it. As he moves into his first breath of the gas is taken, and something moves in his brain. A gear clunks, bearing. Another broken part of his mind, not to the disease that is a plague, yet to a red gas from a pond with waters coloured like blood. Oh yes, this is a schizophrenic murderer's paradise.

"talk talk talk"