He cannot exist as a subject to change that occurs over a daily basis. Life moves onward with a break neck speed that nothing can slow, except for the existance of something that exists completely outside the natural flow of time. Mind and body were already basking in the envelope of darkness that broke apart the land, intwining with his mind to create something dreadful. A small rabbit had gotten to close to him, sadly, and become a prey of hunt. Blood covered his hooves, the sound of painful cries escaping his prey with its dying breath. 'So sick. Let it die, why won't you?' The Unknown finds a button to push somewhere within the process of thoughts and maybe sanity within the stallion's skull, blocking out the voice Scinfaxi can break into the man's head.
Futile. As normal.
The head lowers, a heavy built structure that holds elegance that seems unreal to something so dark. The red liquid is deep and bursting out with the life it is expelling with a thick flow, glittering in the stallion's green eyes. He smiles, not much of a smile, but instead a demonic mark. It needs to be stitched up, to fit him perfectly. Who will take on such a horrible job? No one wants to, no one has the balls enough to get close enough to the madman to even touch him.
Yet someone, maybe just a girl who can hold a lot of bravery and acts of stupidity, got herself somewhere she didn't need to be in the end. Shajake played a good enough job in her downfall. He'd have his skull at some point, making her his single goal. He needed her blood, the feeling of her skull cracking beneath his strength and the sound that would follow with a lovely "CRUNCH."
Achieving that goal is more difficult than thought out.
One more sound breaks from his kill, the slain body that lays underneath his mass. For moments that last to oblivion, there is silence. Then, as if the death was a forecalling to what was to occur, the night ends with a soft caress, ending it's reign as twinkles of starlight fade and a larger, stronger glow errupts from somewhere across the icy sea. His green eyes catch it with curiousity, the full extent of these moments not allowed to process now. The Unknown, sensing the return, fades into a mass of ashes with a gust of wind as the sunlight burns apart his body. Scinfaxi, on the other hand, stands to bask and welcome it. The white mass with golden, pupilless eyes stands beside the dark, green eyed man with pleasure. Shajake remains lifeless, making not a sound. His weight shifts.
Crack.
The crack of bones causes the man to jump, brought out of some sort of trance. His head was raised at some point within the rising and brink of daylight, when it really occurs an unknown point in an endless timeline. It is brought back down, and as if to add to the idea of him being a serial killer, his muzzle touches the blood that stops its movement now. A pink tongue parts his mouth, touching the pool that surrounds him. The taste is something he cannot define, but to add to his scene, he enjoys it.
And this is the man expected to raise a child? What was the world to expect of him when the kiddo was to be born?
Noise fills up the empty feeling that lingers about the Steppe and the northern sea, his laughter returning once more. Scinfaxi fades now, breaking away to a sanituary deep within Shajake's mind that The Unknown cannot find. He parts with words that seem something only he could say. 'Don't fuck up the kid, Bastard.'.
"talk talk talk"

He was within his kill, teeth moving about trying to find something that he wasn't ever sure what it was. His eyes were closed, the still warm encasing of a dead animal all about his muzzle. The one ear upon his head remained limp, lifeless, not catching the sounds that it was supposed to catch. He was enjoying himself too much, well into that bloodlust that was quenched after a fresh kill. Scinfaxi was within his head, off into some stupid trance that made sharing your mind with other creatures a burden. There were words within the madman's head that if it wasn't for the existance of The Unknown, he might of noticed.
'Waddle. Waddle waddle. Waddle waddle. Waddle.' Shut up. 'Waddle waddle, goes the fat pregnant bitch.'
Silence encased his head now, listening to the word pregnant in a sharp manner when a voice awoke him from his high, making actions faster and more alert. His head swings upward, muzzle still encased with dead warmth that was fading fast and a body that was locking away to a cold form that follows death within hours. Her words were all too well known. It brought him to life for a split second, the wound upon his neck errupting with pain that makes him smirk, unbothered and somehow pleased by the pain that can access his brain. However, it comes with a price, allowing The Unknown to break back into his hidden sanity and posion it even more. Movement breaks away from all his body, ear perked forward, green eyes glowing in a radioactive screen as they stare down the girl. Everything about him speaks the same word.
"WHAT?"
Instead of him being able to speak that word, it is The Unknown who gets to it first. It blasts through his head, bringing no movement to the stallion. Scinfaxi tries to break to the machine that would allow him to speak to the man, to give him what to say. The trio already knew too well that having Shajake speak for them was too harsh of a task. It would require them to unmask his dark, deep voice that fell straight out of a horror movie and use it against a pregnant mare. Everyone seems to forget that the disease would always get its way, regardless of the effect upon the body it chose.
"Wh.... What? WHAT?!" His voice bursts through silence and fresh sunlight in attempts to wound her, to break out the emotion that she is clearly attempting to hide. Does the girl feel that he needs to feed off her sickened form and take her child for his own bidding. Maybe. It's an unknown process that works in ways that not even the Gods want to study.
'Give her a gift, Shajake. Girls like gifts. It makes them feel better.'
'Gift' is a word that never existed within his vocabulary, happiness not an emotion known for him to feel. Yet, he had something to gift her with if she really wanted something to ease the tension. His head falls, the thin sheet of black hair falling over bright eyes as his teeth slide over the passing heat of the rodent, taking it within his teeth. When his head rises, he does exactly what he was told to do.
He simply gave her a gift.
In a sick, twisted sort of way that only Shajake could performed.
The rodent is flung towards her, bloody and flying through the air like some sort of sick joke. He stands with a smile, his attempt to ease their tension maybe working for his part, but for the mare, chances would be that it wasn't about to go well. 'Well, girls don't like bloody, dead animals. Flowers next time.' Scinfaxi's advice caused him to snap out of his smile, returning to an emotionless depth that adds to his insanity. For The Unknown, there is Shajake's laughter coming from another body.
"G.... Gif.... Gift." With those words, he leans his head outwards and motions it towards her, single ear flopping about with no polite manner. What a lucky lady she happened to be. She got the cream of the crop, of the insane ones that happened to be.
"talk talk talk"