No one knows what its like to be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
No one knows what its like to be hated
To be fated to telling only lies
But my dreams
They arent as empty
As my conscience seems to be

One thing that startled many when first glancing upon Zero was his odd blue eyes that seemed, at first, almost pupiless. This, of corse, was untrue; his seemingly blind eyes merely looked that way because of the Dream - Zeros pupils are retracted to a size so small that they were near invisible. It was as if the light about them was to the suns intensity, forcing his pupils to become so small. That, also, was untrue; a lie. The dream did lie to its victims. Infact; that was all it ever did. It forced dilusions upon those it cursed, and forcedthem to do unthinkable things. Some Dreamers belived the dream, and followed suit. But not Zero. He fought the disease, and despite it taking over countless times during the time he had been infected, he was often able to stop himself from going too far. Most of the time.

The illusion was burning into his wide, frightened eyes and he stumbled sideways upon the grass lands as if starving or dying - the Dream showed him horrific images of canines and of his family. The images flashed through his skull, trying to manipulate him into becoming a murderer. Of corse, if he was to kill, it ouldnt be the first. He thought back upon that poor dog he had left behind. He had killed it without reasonand was disguisted with himself for it. He still wasnt sure why he acted this way, and only part o him was aware that the Dream had stricken him. The other part of Zero was in denial - this wasnt happening at all. He was fine, just ill - it would go away eventualy, right?

Wrong, the other side muttered, and Zero knew it was right. He would never go back to the placid wolf he had been before. That soul was long gone. But he could at least try to fight what the disease that was consuming him. Closing his eyes, he orced back clear memories he knew (or at least believed) were true and smiled to himself. His eyes were unsheathed once more, now normal and ilated; yet with the same sickly blue hue. He was still stumbling like a drunkard as dizziness swarmed his brain, yet he could see clearly and as his eyes passed over a lone wolf in the distance, he felt no killing intent stir. The urge to attack was upon him, but he fought his own muscles, and though this caused him to tense up in a strange way (changing his walking style to a slightdisagonal limp) he at least controlled himself enough to pass by without hurting the stranger. Ashe walked by, he nodded his head in her general direction as a greeting, but said nothing. The old social Zero had been brushed away; painted over with an almost mute couterpart.