Contrary to what may have been believed by their friends, Worm was not actually attached to Poet by the hip. His younger brother, commonly known as Alfred, had been the first of the two of them to go and venture out into the world, not wanting to remain under Judith and Aethelwulf's harsh rules forever. Of the two of them, Alfred had certainly been the more spoiled and favored, but that didn't mean he enjoyed the way that their parents ran things. Quite to the contrary, in fact, which was why he had gone and opened the oddity shop. He went around collecting everything that he could that could be considered odd or valuable, and had opened up the shop while living in the apartment above it.

Shortly after Poet had left, Worm had followed along after him, driven forward by the strange desire that always commanded him to follow in his brother's footsteps. He had moved in a couple of blocks away, and then had decided to look into teaching. After all, he had always loved being around children, and he had quite a bit of knowledge to share, considering how much he loved reading. Worm had thrown himself into his studies and looking for a job, and spent every other day or so visiting his brother to make sure that he was doing alright, usually offering a soft grin and immediately launching into a happy lecture about whatever he had learned that day.

It had been one of these visiting days when he arrived at the small shop, alarmed when he found that it was locked from the inside. He luckily had an extra key, so he was able to open it and step inside, looking around with a small frown when he found the lights were still off. Poet usually still had the shop open at this point, and was joking around about something when he came in, but his brother was curiously absent from the desk at the front of the room as he looked around. Worm sighed heavily, figuring maybe Poet had just done something dumb like staying up listening to music or getting too engaged with one of his friends, and had just severely overslept.

He moved to the back door, opening it and ascending up the stone stairs, his fingertips dragging against the railing as he went upwards, eventually coming to a stop in front of the door to the apartment. A strange smell rose to meet his inhale, and he blinked in confusion, recoiling a bit at the unpleasant smell that he couldn't place. The wings upon his back fidgeted and pulled in tight in response to his displeasure, and he found that a deep sense of dread had settled in his heart as he placed his hand on the door knob. He stared down for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should just go inside, before he called out hesitantly, hoping that perhaps his brother would come and answer the door, alleviating his irrational fears, "...Poet? Alfred, are you in there? Is everything okay?"

He was met with nothing but silence for a long moment, before the sounds of movement came from inside. A tentative smile spread over his face at the first signs of life since he had come inside, but then the sounds of movement ceased, and the smile fell away. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth in determination and turned the knob, throwing the door open and ignoring the voices in his head screaming at him to stop as he stepped inside.

Worm was immediately hit with the unpleasant stench he had smelled outside, but now he was able to identify it, much to his displeasure: blood. When he finally gained his bearings enough to look around, he realized where the smell was coming from. There was blood everywhere, splattered over the small table, a bit on the wall, and trying it's damnedest to stain the nice hardwood floors as it pouring forth from the wound that was the source of it all. A stab wound, carved sharply into the side of none other than Judith. As soon as Worm's gaze fell upon his mother, limp and unblinking, already dead but still slowly draining across the floor, the angel felt himself shake. A wave of nausea passed over him, and he quickly looked away, freezing when he saw the only other person in the room.

Alfred was standing there, his eyes looking wild and one hand still clenching firmly around one of the kitchen knives, although it was obvious it wasn't the only thing he had used on Judith, as the blood had stained all the way up to his elbows. The younger male was shaking as well, but he didn't seem fearful… he just seemed wild, and obviously on edge, from the way he rose the knife to point at Worm. Worm quickly put his arms up in surrender, saying in a very soft and hesitant voice, "P-Poet… Poet, it's me. Please don't hurt me."

He had never thought he would have to beg his brother not to kill him, but Poet looked so positively deranged that Worm couldn't help the way he flinched when Poet moved forward. He thought that he was going to die. He thought that Poet was going to come forward with the knife, plunging it into Worm's side just as he had done with Judith, but instead the younger male just collapsed against Worm's chest, a sob leaving him. Poet's words were a mess as he sputtered, the knife clattering to the floor as he tangled his hands in Worm's clothes, bloodying them, "I didn't… she was… I found out what they did to you. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. I need to go… I can't stay here. I'm sorry, Aethelred. I'm sorry."

He apologized over and over again, hugging Worm as tightly as he could before pulling away. He offered his older brother a soft smile once he had pulled back, his eyes still fainting gleaming with tears before he quickly moved past. Worm didn't even have a chance to speak before Poet was gone, grabbing his coat urgently on the way out to cover himself and the blood that seemed like a permanent stain on his front.

The older of the two brothers watched him go with a feeling of utter confusion and sadness, along with a fair amount of exhaustion. He turned back towards the scene that Poet had left behind, and he felt his legs trembling beneath him as he curled his hands into fists. He slowly sank down to the floor, his fists going up to the sides of his head as he tried to block out the world, closing his eyes tightly.

Crouched against the floor, Worm's body was racked with sobs at the scene before him. The stench of his mother's blood was still clinging to the inside of his nose, and he couldn't bear to open his eyes, not wanting to face the lifeless glaze that had come to Judith's gaze. He was unable to think of what to do, just crying and trembling as feathers began to fall from his back, the heavenly white feathers shedding and being replaced instead with dark ruddy feathers.

Feathers tainted by the color of his Mother's blood.