His guardian angel had left, gone off with the messenger. He'd tried to follow, but the pain in his chest only grew, and he'd stayed in his place, collapsed on the floor, watching the throne, half unconscious. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't cling to the whispers of his name, so he clung to the wings and the feathers. What he'd seen - what his mind had conjured - had been sharp and cutting, too real to believe in, like a thumbtack in his eye, sepia fluid draining from the wound. There was nothing left in his gut to vomit, bile coating his tongue like burning candy. He wanted to be back in the shade of the tunnel that smelled like nothing, felt like nothing, cool dark shrouding him in numbing comfort.

Here, the stars dug into his skin, stretched it tight across his ribs, legs like matchsticks. The braids he'd kept meticulously clean were rotten, molded inside, falling out in revolting clumps. What mane he had left was patchy and thin, barely there, almost invisible in the light. It hadn't seemed to bother the angels, especially not with their leader wearing the same marks of demonic flame, but it bothered him, because - because - it wasn't right. He was supposed to be something else. He was supposed to find them. He tried to remember how long he'd searched, but all it dragged up was the number four.

Four. Was that enough? It felt too short, like he'd given up.

Maybe he had.

Slowly, the gelding struggled to stand, heaving out watery breaths. Find them.

He had to find them.

@Belladonna

She was walking away, thinking again on the perfect suffering of that mongrel Ashtoreth. How broken her mind was, how wonderful it was to step on her like pieces of glass, shivering every time she heard the sound shattering beneath her feet. Every crunch felt like sugar candy in her mouth, every sound of the gun clicking to ready a new bullet into the mutt's head like sweet euphoria to her. She wanted more, more, more....

She smelled him before she saw him, and her feet hurried to the smell of decaying, rotting, disgusting vomit and bile covered flesh, and she found her mouth watering once she encountered the horse laying there on the ground, a disgusting feast for her on a beautiful silver platter.

Ahh....Another delicious morsel to delve into, to consume and devour. She would never sate her gluttony for that sickly sweet taste of broken dreams and despair. She picked into his mind that laid bare for her, digging in with her talons and a sweet electric thrill ran though her when she discovered just who exactly he was.

This was too good, this was too perfect....

She stood over him, smiling oh so brightly at him - but her smile wasn't for him, oohh, no. It was for his eventual death.

A shape. Something was coming towards him. Blearily, he tried to make it out, raising up onto two front legs to lean forward - only to fall flat on his stomach again, whining at the dig of stones into his wounds. Pointed ears pinned back, the gelding could only watch, hazily, as it approached, closer and closer, until its shadow fell over his form. The dark of unconsciousness clouded his vision, called to him to sink into sleep again, but he needed to get up and find them, because he had to. The demon had interrupted him, but now that the angels were safe in their sanctuary, he had to keep going.

Slowly, silver eyes cleared, pinned on the figure. Angel. The pale pelt and dainty shape was enough to give them away, and he attempted to smile back, not wanting to worry the guardian. It looked a bit like his own guardian, in fact, and at the realization he relaxed minutely. He was safe, for now, guarded from the demon with swords and flame hidden in its maw.

The doe looked strong - or at least fast enough to flee from Death.

He could sleep, now, without the burden of the child-angels' safety on his shoulders. Drowsily he blinked up at the stranger, breath shallow and weak, suspecting nothing.

@Belladonna

With her magic sitting in his mind chewing on his pain, she smiled only wider as she was given a false title. He thought she was an angel, did he? Perhaps that would be the best way to break him, to play pretend.

So she leaned in close and made her magic echo in his mind, putting herself into his mindscape faintly, an adumbrate with a soft glow behind his eyes, speaking directly to him. She drew her breath and smiled for him there, in the spotlight she created.

"Hello, my dear," She said softly, in Clover's sweet voice, like a melody playing in his head. "My, how brave you are, to bear such pain."

"I'll play pretend..."

The gelding only relaxed further at the doe's soft, gentled expression, slipping into a grey plain between consciousness and sleep. He was safe, here in the cave of stars, guarded by angels who kept the demons at bay, fought them off with sharp tines and soft words. It was alright to drop his guard down, the mental walls that had become prickled with iron thorns after months of total isolation, the feverish need to hide from every movement slowly abating.

The trust would be his downfall.

A beam of light broke the eternal grey that surrounded him like a fog, and his mental form shifted, staring in awe, mouth dropping open into an o. In his mind, he wasn't the wasted wreck of a horse he'd become - no, here he was still muscular and scarless, but meek and flinching from the light, eyes permanently widened and deep-set in reflections of internal terror. Angel..?

The doe shone with inner light, glorious in her kind beauty, and he stared - and, slowly, bowed his head, too weak and battered to lock eyes with someone so perfect. I.. thank y̭̘͉ͅo̯̫̠͓͔̠͟u͕̗̤̦͘.̺̦͎̫̫͍̻ His mental voice glitched, peaking and scratchy. B̵u͍̯̗͖͖t̟̹̠͞ ̝̗̫̟̮ͅI҉̮̭̘'͔̼̘͍͉͕m̴͖ ̷̪̯̣̪͇̗̥ṇ̮͔̮͇̫̘o̮̙t ͏̞st҉̥̠r̶̘̻͉o̶n̫͙̻̥̦͍̳͢g̺ ̯H̢͇͇̲E͇̩̤̯'̺̬̮̙͟S̷͖̬ ̬͉̹̘ͅP͈͚͍͍̖̖̝͘O̷IS͠O̦̫N̢̺̖ ̰͜i̻t̜'̪s̡̪͓̠ ͏̥̣̩̺ą͍̦̠̲̻ͅl̦̦͡ṟi͉̹̤̝ͅg̰͈̠h͕̘̰̣́ͅt҉̺̰̜ͅ ̮͈̖n̨͓̭͔o͚͈̦w̗͚͇̘͚̼̮ ̧̺̹̟̬̮ͅY̱͓̤͞O̙̖̟͓͙̣͟U̟̝̱̠̰ L͎͕̬͓̹̲͘E̘̟̞̪̯ͅF̵T͙͍͕̰̻ ͚H̶͎̹E͕̬̠͚̘̘̙R̡͇̮̤̹̫.̺̻͉̙̤͈͈

@Belladonna

She continued to smile, so soft and sweet in her spotlight, and she continued, as if his broken voice and his stifling shyness were all the norm. "You're so brave, my dear, for dealing with such pain and suffering and not giving in."

She paused, like the calm before the storm, like the brief breath before the musician started the overture of crashing cymbals and trumpets sounding destruction.

"It takes a good deal of mental strength when you have to face what you've faced every day. A ruined body, rotting with every step, no voice, no hearing, no song....and no family. She's been gone for so long, hasn't she? The one you love, the one with wings, and you have no idea what's happened to her, do you?"

Her voice was so kind.

"She's dying because you haven't been able to find her. Starving, beaten, tortured, and she can't fly anymore. She's wasting away to nothing more than bones, and she looks sick to the point of death."

"You must be so strong to live with yourself and not give up."

She called to her magic, her eye glittering with gold underneath the slithering shadows. She didn't quite show her pièce de résistance quite yet...she kept it hidden and out of sight around the corner, but her illusion waited there patiently for her, flexing her wings, ready for her time to shine.

"Let the music play...."