When Wormwood had first met Leroy several months ago, he hadn't thought much of the canine. He'd been rather unimpressed, considering the first thing he had seen Leroy do was face plant almost drunkenly into the mud at his joining, and then gruffly tell Worm that he had better get used to the pitfalls of the Tanglewood territory quickly, or he would be miserable. Now, Worm knew quite well just how good that advice had been, but that wasn't quite the point. When they had first met, Worm had never expected the other male to be accomplishing much of anything within the group, let alone anything as grandiose as one day being the second in command for the entire damn thing. Still, his first impression had been far too harsh, and he had been corrected over the now long portion of his life that he had enjoyed Leroy's particular brand of company. That wasn't to say that they never had their clashes – they quite certainly did, particularly over things such as his old boyfriend. However, it had never been enough to drive either to hatred, and Worm had begun to harbor a respect in his heart for the other male. In all honesty, Leroy had sort of reminded him of Aethelred, if only his father had a bit more of a soul back in his time. That wasn't to say that Worm thought of Leroy as a father figure, but... he certainly valued his opinions, and he had been glad when Leroy had been promoted to proxy, among the several that had wholeheartedly congratulated the canine when Crow had first announced it. Thinking about it now, it all seemed so damn surreal. Everything had seemed happy and new at that point, like Tanglewood had turned a corner and perhaps things were going to be better than the hardships that the group had been facing since before Wormwood had first arrived. Now, in the library, surrounded by the cold unfeeling shelves and the strong scent of dust in the air, all Worm wished was that they could go back to those days.

Having moved back into the library slightly after Crow had gone charging in, the guardsman found himself blinking in surprise when he heard the leader's words. However, that was far from the most important thing at the moment, so he had just let that information roll over his shoulders, his body moving near the back of the group to settle. He knew as well as anyone that if Selby couldn't do anything to help the proxy, then there was certainly nothing he could do. Still, it was absolutely awful, watching the tears wash slowly down Leroy's face as his body shut down, piece by piece. Worm wanted to look away, but he also knew that he couldn't, not wanting to miss the male's last moments in the land of the living, among his friends and family, and Crow, the love of his life. Silently, Wormwood wished that he had gotten to know Leroy better. He wished that they had gotten the chance to be better friends, in the short time that Leroy had before this. Sure, Worm had been trying his best to visit Leroy when he could've, but the facts were that they all had their lives to live, and he had known Leroy had chosen to hide himself away for a reason. Still, from the very moment that Leroy had told him about Selby's diagnosis, Wormwood had been so desperate to do something, anything to help the other out. He knew that logically couldn't, knew that he was trying to do something as impossible as make the planet reverse its orbit, but... it wasn't rational, the way that his heart screamed and ached for him to help his clanmate, his new friend. And now, as he sat within the library, watching Leroy's prone body take its last precious breaths, he once again found his heart screaming at him, desperate to reach out and stop this, at any cost to himself. Hell, he knew for sure that he wasn't the only one in the room falling apart trying to figure out what they could do – far from it, in fact.

When Leroy's body finally went slack, the cold hands of death drawing him in, Wormwood took a deep breath inward, and found himself looking up at the ceiling of the library. He stared at the cross beams that held the roof up, his eye tracing over the faint cobwebs of corners long undusted. And as he did this studying, he found his mind reflecting back on a moment a couple of months ago, one where death had also viciously claimed another soul, and one where Leroy had snapped at him, rightly so. The words had been clean and gruff, just as Leroy always was, pulling no punches when they cut coldly through the air at the lion who was blaming himself for Pastel's death, "We all wanna say th' shit that first comes ta mind when somethin's wrong, but usually we only say what's best... but you just have t' say everything, dont'cha Wormwood." The words felt as crystal clear as if Leroy was still alive, right in front of him and saying them right to his face. However, when he snapped back to reality, he saw that nothing had changed, and Leroy was really still just laying there, dead on the ground. Worm found himself staring for a long moment at the body, and internally his soul thrashed, clamoring for him to do something. To scream, to shout, to cry until his body was all out of tears to give, but instead he found that he did nothing but just... stare, mutely. Swallowing thickly, the guardsman got to his paws and moved a bit closer to where Leroy was, with Crow curled the best he could around him.

Once he was close enough, the guardsman craned his neck out to gently touch his nose to Crow's shoulder, his words soft and pained, even though he was keeping his voice as even as possible, "I'm sorry for your loss, Crow." It was simple and earnest, straight to the point and just enough to cut through the air before Worm pulled his head back, moving away back to the back of the large group. As he settled again, allowing the other's to mourn and say what they might have needed to, he took another deep breath, his wings pressing tightly against his back as his lungs filled with dust and the strangely quick smell of death. Wormwood wondered if he was imagining it, or if the scent was some kind of punishment for them all. Either way, the lion lowered his head down in respectful mourning for the proxy, mumbling in a soft voice so quiet that no one except him would hear unless they were specifically straining to hear him, "I can only hope that you'll be happy up there, Leroy..." The angel then closed his one good eye, letting darkness fill his vision for the moment. Despite the pain that echoed through his body, and the cacophony of noise that roared inside of him, enraged at him for how calm he was being, Wormwood stubbornly resisted, his heart aching. The only thing that he could hope for now was that Leroy was out there somewhere up above, happy with how Worm was mourning for him.