Harsh and irregular tempo, the ragged beat of drums, rot the blood within decaying veins. Peace and war. Ceaseless cycle turning upon itself, incapable the existence of one without the other to act as counterbalance, cruelty of reality wrought in taunt agreement and blood stained soil.

Prey had they become, raucous the victory exploited by forces cowardly within forward approach beneath covering that lulled occupants to slumber, at peace for beyond it all were they supposedly. Falsehood that proven with the dark gleam, pooled briefly crimson until greedy the earth in taking it, churned the ground even as the conflict had wound down. Relative his safety within upper story, beneath blankets tucked as though the horrors the world offered may be disregarded by such flimsy protection. Harsh his awakening when commotion had begun, ushered out back window, fleeting glance of gold seared into frantic thoughts.

For a time bright burnt his faith, secure in the knowledge one such as Aurum may not be bested with any ease, time allowing it to dwindle. Close did he dare to tread, seeking among the rabble faces familiar, those that crowded gleeful in such easy prey. And such did he become, forced to run even as claws cut into skin and he slowed with the passing minutes, unrestrained the tears freely flowing. Among them was he left, clinging with desperate hope to father, all he had left, the few conversations staged in the dark lost upon child.

Simple his own escape, secondary entrance well obscured within abandoned house, dense undergrowth offering protection beyond the ruined walls. Silent his approach, or would have been had not the heaviness of each step drawn forth various sounds, dried leaves and twigs cracking for singular his thoughts. "I want to help." Child still, upon the cusp training may be staged, apparent this with the excess weight and gentle markings along flanks. Yet steelen the eyes Saliva turned to each present in turn, last of them Aurum for he was the one most likely to have issue.