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There was always someone there amongst the shadows.

What a relief this frozen hell had brought his sensitive systems, choking the sun with frozen fingers until its searing warmth no longer made to scorch his broad back. The ivory beast had learned from a young age that the light was his enemy, and only if he submerged himself in darkness could he be truly content. But this, this bitter, biting cold allowed him to roam freely among the forest. He'd risked a glance at the smothered orb in the sky above, only to find that while the warmth had faded, the light was intense as ever. Unbidden, his eyes began to weep, and the sanguine streaks of blood slowly made to trickle down his pale cheeks. He blinked rapidly and gave his head a shake, his stride unwavering despite his now-impaired vision. The streaks of swirling colors would soon fade, as they always did... He just needed to stick to the shadows.

Powdered snow crunched softly and dispersed underneath his hooves, announcing his arrival to those with keen ears and wary dispositions. The smog made to welcome him, caressing his sides with writhing tendrils and musing with his ragged mane. The stallion was unconcerned as the substance began to thicken and take shape, finding himself soon eye-to-eye with a ghoul right out of Hell. The jawless spirit bore its cruel fangs in a silent scream, horned head tilting so its baleful gaze could better trap the stoic stallion.

"I know, Verin." The baritone rumble was surprisingly smooth, and Ornias continued to move forward. "Introduce yourself." The thought earned a low chuckle from the unicorn, and the corners of his lips curled upward in a spiteful grin. "Go." With a hushed, lilting moan, the ghost vanished back into the mist, winding its way towards the lake. It had watched the young filly for some time, curious, vengeful, and hungry as always. It wanted her fear.

Like some silent serpent, Verin glided soundlessly towards the child from behind. It was all too easy to arch himself over her pale body, twisting around to hover quietly next to the side of her face, near one of those dark eyes. The ghoul then twisted its mutated visage to take her in too, a smoldering orb pinning her with seeming curiosity. It was then that the wraith let its not-jaws fall open wide, gushing forth smoky screams laced with an orange glow. With another howl, the creature shot at the filly's face, snapping at her scarred muzzle with fangs that could inflict no damage before it took about to circling her head with wailing shrieks and gnashing jaws.

Ornias shifted his way out from the cover of the trees, observing the scene with little more than an amused glance. It never struck him to 'save' the poor girl--Verin was just having a good time. And when the spirit was happy, Ornais always felt the same.

The shade was beset with confusion, veering sharply to avoid the fearless filly when she made to advance. The concept of play was lost to a creature who only knew it as a slower form of torment, the shreds of innocence and purity from her actions only coming off as some sort of threat. A gurgling hiss slipped forth from once-wailing jaws, the menace clear as the spirit ignored the apologetic words tossed its way. Teeth gnashed with utmost frustration, and the ghost howled with rage as it swooped to harry her head once more.

Ornias observed the sight with wavering feelings--half amused with Verin's failure, and half frustrated himself. Were foals naturally so dimwitted? He had never been afraid of Verin as a colt, nor any of his siblings' spirits, but they were different. Most he'd met had never even bothered to stick around; one encounter with Verin had sent them bolting into the underbrush. She caught his gaze unexpectedly, dead and hollow eyes void of any expression he could read. The stallion eyed her silently, musing over the feathered wings attached to her back and skull, the scars that marred the sleek ivory of her tiny body. So young, and already bearing the scars of battle. It was something to note, if anything.

She called to him then, and he idly shifted in place, slanting milky eyes downward to better take her in. "Brilliant?" Ornias mused, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. An indignant snarl sprang from the muted colors of the shade's throat, and it shot forward to jealously entwine itself around the stallion's neck, as though its presence alone could keep the female from speaking. "No. He is with me." And that's how it'd always been. Wherever Ornias went, Verin followed--the two were inseparable. "Offense or not... He doesn't like you." Whether or not the cruelty of the message would impact the smaller made no difference to him. It was simple truth, and plain to see to any who happened to observe.

His interest lost, an ear tipped back as though to listen to the grumbling spirit whom had settled itself within the stringy strands of his mane. Yes, Verin didn't like this one at all, did he? Likely sore from his failed attempt, was all... Ornias chuckled wordlessly to himself again, before again glancing to the winged child. "What are you?" Dead eyes and too many wings... Was this one of the so-called mutants he'd heard so much about?:

Again he was struck by her naivety, taking her in with a slow, thoughtful stare while the shade against his neck moaned softly in disapproval. She seemed little phased by Verin's blatant dislike of her, and he had to wonder why she would think him little less than a monstrosity. Of course, he understood the spirit, better than any other living creature, but he knew this tiny filly could not. No other Soquili could, save perhaps his siblings and his mother. And even then... he was better than they were. "You have a funny way of looking at curses." Ornias remarked, both amused and frustrated by the ghost's palpable irritation of being seen as so non-threatening.

"He lusts for little more than your death, your fear... The world is his hunting ground." And who was he to stop him? No, Ornias reveled in the sensation of power, knowing he was more worthy and would be the sole survivor should the world plunge itself into stuttering flames. A mirthless smile was offered back to the filly, peering at her through filthy black locks before he chuckled. "You shouldn't have wandered off by yourself... What will mother and father if you fail to return home?" It wasn't safe in these woods, no... The shade lifted itself like a striking serpent, hissing low between gaping fangs.

Ornias listened quietly to her whimsical description, snorting with disbelief. "That's bold. Tell me then, little angel--do you enjoy watching the world squirm as much as I do? It still cries out with suffering while you frolic about in the snow." He grinned to himself a little at that, struck by the irony of the situation. What a world this was! Sensing his approval, Verin reluctantly settled against his broad shoulders to eye the filly balefully.

The comments on his coat were ignored, and the stallion did little more to idly twist his neck to watch as she pranced around him. He could feel the spirit practically quivering with rage before he finally erupted into a howl and rushed at her face again, attempting to drive her off with ghostly fangs and loud shrieks alone. Such a temper! Who knew Verin would work himself into such a tizzy when faced with little threat? It was something he stored in his mind for later, smirking slightly when the ghost eventually calmed and took to sulking in his mane once more.

"You don't need to know my name." He said idly, his tail flicking with dismissal. "But you'd be wise to keep yourself a little more guarded, Taharial... Demons enjoy a struggle before the inevitable." What fun was it when she offered herself up so freely? "My lineage." Came the next reply. "But that matters little, as well. Should I bear wings and teeth, would you sweetly ask where I'd gotten them while I tore out your throat...? Accept what is." He began to move then, seeing no need to linger as he approached the frozen surface of the lake. He'd originally come here to quench his first, after all, before such a delicious opportunity had presented itself.