He was not crazy.
The thoughts in his mind passed like angels through the sky, a shred of infinity and light flaring throughout utmost darkness before quickly dying out again. His mind was a beautiful thing, really. It was the sun on the horizon in the late eve, and he painted sunsets with plots and words. The crimsons splashed with orange, mixing and twining and mingling colors.
It was all spread out before him.
His chocolate hair splayed slightly in the breeze, and a smile grew slowly on his face of creamed complexion. Soft brown eyes watched the sky with a warmth that seemed almost impossible for a being as himself. It was not that he was kindly in any way, nor was he a particularly blood-thirsty beast. Rather, it was that he understood the world.
He knew why the moon rose at night, and the leaves shifted colors and fell from the trees. He felt the cold and knew how to prevent it, and how to catch a deer without it hearing the slightest rustling of earth.
His abilities were left unspoken to his siblings, the world. To most, he was just a simple musician without a care in the world, though one with extreme talent. He enjoyed it ever-so-much, for it amused him. It amused him so much that he chucked then, a deep rumbling laugh that carried through the air.
He was not crazy.
He threw his head into the air at a sudden breeze, nostrils heaving as he drank in scents that awakened senses. He did not thirst power, or strength, but instead life. Life as such that was forgotten, where autumn's whiff left one dazed and melting into the ground, and snow on the pelt caused one not to sigh but rather laugh and jump through the grounds. He longed for companions, for the warmth of another. But, most of all, he longed for the flesh of the man.
He was the blood-thirsty beast after all, the one that was feared throughout the lands. He was evil. More laughter.
But he wasn't crazy.