Cold. It was an especially chilling day as Aurum moved down the steps of his homestead, choosing instead to be in his hellhound form, rather than his normal and comforting lion one. Despite the fact that his main lion form was covered in thick heat insulating fur, his hellhound form just seemed warmer in all aspects, as if pure fire was running through his veins while he inhabited the grotesque body. He didn't mind it quite as much anymore, especially since he was no longer in danger of being controlled by anyone while he was in it. Sure, perhaps the proxy got a couple of strange looks as he slipped out of the edge of town, intent on going to hunt something for breakfast, but he thought little of it, knowing there were several newcomers who had never seen his other forms before. If anyone asked, it wouldn't exactly be hard to explain, considering how prominent powers like shapeshifting had become as of late. It would probably be shrugged off just as easily as Crowley shifting between a lean serval and a tiny snake – although he found that form shift to be much more adorable than his shift from lion to hellhound.

The proxy was rather relaxed as he just let his slightly short legs and senses lead him through the swampland in search of food, surprisingly relaxed for him. As of late, things had been going fairly well. He had a loving son, a group of friends who loved him, a new rank he was incredibly proud of, and a myriad of other things that made his heart soar. Sure, perhaps things with Crowley weren't perfect, but they weren't not speaking at all anymore, and that was good enough for him, as long as he hadn't damaged their friendship too much. Overall... his life was going well. He was happy, and that was a feeling that he had, at one time, never thought he could ever experience. And now that he was? It gave him a high like nothing else anyone would ever know. Still, all highs had to have their lows to go with them, and unfortunately he was about to be face to face with one of those lows. His heavy pawsteps had been moving him quickly through the clustered trees, his eye set ahead, searching for something to eat, when suddenly something new and decidedly un-prey like walked into his vision. An ocelot, although his coloring was wildly different from the average ocelot, instead being a pure white, with the pattern on his fur being a golden color. His eyes were cold and faintly glimmering, and the scent that permeated his fur was one that Aurum hadn't smelled in many years, but still filled him with unease and dread. It was faintly airy, with a cool and unpleasant overtone of death – it was heaven. An angel.

Immediately, Aurum recoiled, halting in his steps and focusing one glaring eye on the creature in front of him. The ocelot rose his head, meeting Aurum's gaze before it spoke softly, in a tone that seemed to echo through the trees, "Aurum." Although the ocelot was speaking his current name, it seemed garbled and mangled, with hints of his true, divine, angelic name running underneath. The tone made a shiver run down the hellhound's spine, and he immediately recognized who this was – Uriel. One of the archangels who had acted as his handler, back when he had been but a naive but powerful throne angel, forced to carry the weight of all the sorrow in the world upon his shoulders. Uriel had been quiet, and no nonsense, reprimanding Aurum harshly when he failed at something, and working with the others in their plan to keep him constantly locked away, isolated and suffering despite the fact that they claimed it was for his own good. Uriel had been one of his abusers even before Judith and Aethelwulf, and Aurum felt his heart sink down low as he snarled back, his one eye narrowed, "Uriel." His voice was cold, and emotionless. He had no intention of faking friendliness with the archangel. Uriel had been one of the ones who had sent him into the arms of Judith and Aethelwulf, intent on making Aurum see how cruel the earth truly was, and make him regret ever wanting to leave heaven. Uriel had wanted Aurum to come running back, tail between his legs, begging for forgiveness, but that wasn't going to happen. Tanglewood had made it so that wouldn't happen.

The angel – fallen angel, he supposed in technicality – stepped forward, intent on telling Uriel off, but the ocelot spoke first, his voice still echoing, "Aurum... are you finally ready to stop playing this silly game? Are you finally ready to return home?" His voice was so steady it made hot anger run through Aurum's veins, and the hellhound snarled, "No. Fuck you, and fuck your home. Tanglewood is my home, not the prison that you and the rest of the archangels kept me in. I'm never going back there, and you can tell that to the rest of them." He had to hold himself back from practically spitting on the archangel, such contempt burning in his heart. Uriel's eyes just narrowed at this, and he replied coldly, "I knew we never should've let you come here. To this planet, filled to the brim with soft, weak hearted creatures. It has made you weaker, more useless... taking grotesque forms like this one... you are no longer an asset to us, Aurum. I bid you farewell." It was then that the proxy noticed the weapon that Uriel carried upon his back – a golden lance. It sparkled faintly in the light, and was large, at least in relation to Uriel's body. As the ocelot pulled it from his back, clenching the handle in his jaws, Aurum readied himself for a strike, ready to fight back... but Uriel was too fast.

Pain exploded through the hellhound's entire front as the lance was slammed into his chest, and a wheeze of agony left him as he fell back, the world spinning wildly as pain and panic gripped him. He could faintly hear Uriel speaking in the background, but he couldn't make out most of the words, static seeming to fill his mind. His one good eye felt dark, flicking from the face of the ocelot to the lance that was embedded deep within his chest cavity, the golden weapon filling up his view as he felt the world slip away. He wanted to scream and thrash, or at least do something, but instead he just laid there, paralyzed, as his blood began to stain the marshland grass around him. Tears welled up in his eyes as everything grew darker, and he thought about everyone he loved. Roy, Moth, Vathmos, Red, Crowley, Leroy, Delilah, Goldie, Crow, Selby, Indie... there were so many people that he was letting down, and as he slipped off into death, many cold hands tearing at his soul, he whispered a soft apology for each of them. For several seconds he lingered in suffering, before eventually his breath stopped, and the world went silent.

Aurum was dead.

The world was tranquil for a moment, and he heard the soft trill of birds, saw golden Ray's of light above him, and heard a soft, teasing voice in his ear, asking faintly if he wanted to go play. His heart ached with want as he recognized the voice... Abram, his first beloved, the tiger that he had so unconditionally loved back in the pride. This must've been... heaven. Still, even as the light surrounded him, Aurum knew... he knew that it wasn't his time yet. And he couldn't leave just yet. He mumbled softly to Abram, the faintest of smiles on his muzzle as he looked around the paradise heaven surprisingly offered, ...I'm sorry, my beloved. But... I can't stay here." He gently pressed his forehead to the tiger's for a moment, the two of them sharing a sad little smile together, before suddenly the world was thrown back into focus, and an explosion of noise hit Aurum like a freight train.

His previously prone and dead form shifted, muscles twisting and shaping into his usual lion form, his body doubling in size as he took in a sudden painful gasp of breath. Uriel recoiled nearby, the ocelot having been enjoying his victory over the rogue angel. Aurum felt raw fury flow through him again as soon as he saw Uriel, and he set his golden paws on both side of the lance, yanking it up and out of his chest with all of the force he could muster. It hadn't been as deep now that he was in his much larger lion form, but it still hurt like hell, and he could still feel blood staining his fur as he forced himself to sit up, grinning at the way that fear and surprise filled Uriel's eyes. The archangel's mouth opened, an endless stream of possible things waiting to fly out, but Aurum gave him no chance to say anything, the lion throwing himself forward to collide with him.

Uriel wheezed and sputtered as he was pinned to the ground beneath Aurum's more powerful form, and the lion felt a sharp grin come to his face, even as nearly crippling pain still lingered right in the middle of his chest. His jaws were lit ablaze as he leaned down, his mouth opened and his fangs closing around Uriel's throat as the archangel shouted desperately, thrashing beneath him, "No! No, no, no, NO, N-! The male's screaming was cut off as Aurum crushed down on his windpipe, blood filling his mouth as Uriel continued to struggle, the life draining slowly not only from his body, but from his eyes. After only a minute or so, Uriel collapsed limply to the ground, as dead as Aurum had been only a few minutes ago. Although, hopefully, he wouldn't be returning as Aurum had. Speaking of which... although he wasn't dead anymore, when the adrenaline left his veins, Aurum could feel the raw uncut pain of the wound within his chest, still fairly deep and pouring blood down upon the dirt around him. It wasnt bad enough to kill him – unless it went direly untreated – but he knew that it would leave a nasty scar, and would probably cause pain for weeks. The male spared one last glance down at Uriel's prone form, just to make sure that the archangel was honestly and.truly dead, before he slowly moved back, his footsteps hard and staggered as he made his way back to the main town of Tanglewood.

Before long, the angel had managed to drag himself all the way back, his head spinning as the blood loss continued. Inside his head, he quietly thanked anyone who would listen for the fact that he hadn't been too far from camp. Once he was near the center of camp, the lion was so exhausted and delirious that he didn't even call out for anyone, he just collapsed against the ground beneath him, his head resting against the dirt as he watched people begin to rush around him, murmurs of concern passing through the crowd. As he closed his eyes, not quite passing out but not quite awake, the angel listened for the sound of a voice he would recognize, his chest still bleeding out from the gaping wound.

( tl;dr: one of Aurum's old archangel handlers attacked him while he was out hunting in his hellhound form. They killed him temporarily in his hellhound form by stabbing him through the chest, but he managed to come back to life and shift into his lion form, and killed them permanently, although he couldn't get rid of the wound he sustained. He half walked half dragged himself back to the middle of town with the wound in his chest before collapsing from blood loss. After this thread, Aurum will no longer be able to use his hellhound form, since that form is considered "dead" )

This would prove to be the first time Abathur ever had to experience an actually mortal emergency.

There was that incident with Adelaide, sure, but that was not so serious - he had a lovely conversation with her, gave some alligator-related advice, and bandaged her up. It was nice and simple and nobody was really freaked out, especially not him, even by her rather strange demeanor.

But today, this situation, it was much different, he belatedly thought to himself, staring down at the unmoving body of Aurum, who had so politely deposited his injured self in the spider's way. Christ, he was just on a walk to make sure he remembered how to move when winter passed, and here he was, glaring down with eight viridian eyes at an injured friend of his.

If friend was the right word.

He certainly trusted Aurum, yes, but... well, he had a hard time imagining that trust was a two-way street. He hadn't exactly proven himself in any way. Sure, Aurum had defended him in the library, and was just an all around good person (or so his research said), but that was just that - he was a good person, acting how he thought he should. No close ties to the spider or anything. Perhaps that could change now - perhaps him stumbling upon the lion in a vulnerable state was his chance to learn more, his in, as it were.

"Greetings," the spider said, crouching down to get a good look at what little of the injury he could see. The lion was definitely injured, yes - he could feel the heart beating erratically through the cold dirt under their feet, could see his tired and pained expression, knew the difference between someone falling over from exhaustion and from stumbling and falling because they lacked the strength to help themselves up, because they were losing a lot of blood very quickly and couldn't stop it. "Will now administer emergency care - apologies, but can subject move? Require greater access to wound." He wouldn't wait, however, already moving his two foremost limbs to push and prod at the lion, not putting too much force into it until he was sure the effort wouldn't be wasted.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, he was aware of the fact that he would have to get help, assuming none stumbled upon them, because he had no supplies other than his silk, and Aurum desperately needed quite a bit more than just a simple patch-up - hell, if he had something to combat infection he'd be wanting to sew the lion up. But he didn't, so he was forced to wait and ponder the best course of action. His over-reactive hairs picked up far more vital information than needed to be picked up from the ends of his limbs being placed gently on Aurum's side as he stewed in his thoughts. For now, this was the closest to a truly social sense of concern he was going to get - concern over his patient, stemming from a sense of duty, instead of from a close inter-personal bond.

And it wasn't that long ago he could remember thinking that he didn't want to go into the medical profession. Christ, some deity or something was out to disprove him, wasn't it - no other explanation for the double occurrence of injuries he happened to be the first nearby for.

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Everything is so fucking fuzzy. And loud. So awfully, dreadfully loud. One second he's laying there, the world spinning silently around him as static buzzed all around, and then suddenly there were so many voices. Abathur's first, sounding remarkably calm and requesting for him to move. Aurum made a soft noise at this, not particularly keen in getting up and pulling off something spectacular, but he knew it was for his own good. He shoved his paws underneath himself, intent on pushing up to his usual standing stance, however, this is much more effort than he remembered. Immediately he collapsed back down to the ground, letting out a low growl of pain as the open wound on his chest fell against the dirty ground. The proxy didn't have the chance to try again before Snarl was there, babbling and offering to go get someone. He didn't even truly feel annoyed at her, yet the speaking still caused his ears to flatten to his head, the pain making his usual gratefulness fade into the background. He had little chance to even process her offer of drugs before Kaz was on the scene, his loud and form voice cutting through the air and mangling the static that filled Aurum's ears. The lion listened wearily to what the other had to say, wanting to mumble something along the lines of calm down, but finding himself strangely tongue tied, just staring off to the side until he felt Kaz's firm touch against him, and he was being flipped over. He let out a hiss of agony through his teeth at the movement, willing himself not to squirm, when suddenly it was over, and he was staring up at the sky. All he managed to get out was a strained couple of words, the smell of blood suddenly very overwhelming in his nostrils, "...Thank you." For a moment, the proxy considered if he had been wrong about this not being his time, and if he would be rejoining Abram in heaven soon enough. He wasn't given much time to consider this either, however, because now Selby and Kiira were on the scene.

He let out a strained breath he hadn't known he was holding at the sight of the two, and he mumbled softly as they moved in close, his eye closing against his own will as he tried to ignore the sharp ache in his chest, "I... ugh. Selby, Kiira..." He wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to say, but his head was spinning and he was barely clinging to consciousness, so that wasn't exactly the wildest surprise in the world. The lion winced as he felt medicines and bandages beginning to touch the wound, and he tried his best to stay still, not wanting to give Abathur too much of a challenge despite the way his body wanted to recoil away. Once he opened his eye again, he looked around for a moment before mumbling, his paws resting against the ground and his claws digging firmly into the dirt, "Archangel... Uriel. Came down... he was so angry. Stabbed me... fucker. He's... dead now, but I don't... shit, Selb, am I gonna die?" He didn't sound particularly stressed about the prospect of dying, but that was mainly due to the fact that his lucidity was heavily mangled by the fact that he had already lost a lot of blood, and his mind was desperately attempting to process everything that was going on, along with all the voices that had appeared around him. He was grateful for everyone there, and had no doubt that the moment he was alright again he would be thanking them wholeheartedly, but... he wasn't sure when that would be.

People flood in, suddenly, and it's quiet but it's so loud - one after the other, they file in, worried faces concerned about their proxy, their brother, their friend, their father. Everyone had some connection, and he could feel them all, even if it was hard to distinguish, could feel the hammering of anxious hearts, the nervous pawsteps, and the shaking of Roy as he breaks down just the tiniest bit.

There was just so much oh so suddenly - he was so focused on bandaging he had almost missed Snarl's questions, unable to give a proper response before some actual professionals came in to help, didn't have time to retort to Kaz's obnoxious manhandling of the command in the scene, nor critique his lack of bedside manner. Selby arriving was what finally broke him out of his stupor, metaphorically shaking himself awake to pay attention to what he had to do. Hold him still, got it. Easy enough. Kiira arrived too, but before he could go and fulfill his directive, Aurum began talking again - which was a good sign, since at least he wasn't entering shock - and Roy had entered, understandably distressed about his father's condition.

Abathur made a very large decision at that point - he decided to move away from Aurum, trusting Snarl to do a better job than he could (not much he could do, due to his lack of strength in general), and go help someone because they were in need. Not medical need, but need nonetheless. Upon reflection, he didn't know why he did it; frankly it didn't make much sense to him, looking back, but at the time it seemed like there was no other option. So the spider scuttled to Roy's side, silently, taking a second to glance and make sure he wasn't needed very much any more, before crouching down to sit near the child. "He will survive," he said, sounding calm and collected, a confidence to inspire further calm in his friend. There would be a moment or two of silence as he quietly floundered for words, before he said, "Everything is okay. Subject Aurum is strong, has two medics helping him. He will be fine."

Comfort was not a skill of his, and not something he expected to be dealing with at all. Frankly, he was barely making his way through being polite - and yet here he was, shoving past his own self doubt for the sake of another, social the farthest thing from his mind as he silently hoped for Roy to feel better and for Aurum to heal much, much faster.

tags - "speech"