Troubled was a light term in describing the cur's viewpoint on life.

Time and time again his amber hues peered through the aged windowpanes of Crow's abode, gazing longingly at the lively passerby trudging along the town street. Healthy, young souls, each with bountiful futures awaiting them. Every life had a story, and the active Tanglers who were out and about had a plethora of chapters sitting between the current day, and the ending. Pages upon pages of heroic deeds, inspiring tales of woe, with interludes of cheesy romance sprinkled here and there. At the same time, there were the tearjerker moments, the times where all hope is lost and a positive outcome did not seem plausible in the slightest. Also among the oncoming pages were arcs of life, and arcs of death. Elements of love, and elements of hate. Traces of hope and ruin, humour and despair, fortune and mistfortune, and harmony and violence.

For the hound, as it seemed, the closing sentence to his tale sat barely beyond the horizon. All that needed to be said had been said, and he had no say in the matter. Living to see winter wasn't seen as plausible anymore. Hell, making it past Hallowe'en was more of a hopeless dream than all else by this point. The reality of it was bleak - the date of his demise sat a mere amount of weeks away. But, that's life. C'est-la-fucking-vie. Collapsing and crying about it wouldn't solve anything. Instead, for the remainder of his days, whilst the intensity of his condition gradually amplified, the majority of the decrepit male's minutes were spent watching. Watching those who got to live their lives free of worry. Not only watching, but reading, as well. Every life has a story, as established before, and Leroy considered himself something of an avid reader.

The problem was that only so much could be read from an individual's physical appearance, which was what he was limited to while cooped up in a building.

A gaunt paw extends towards the house's entrance, nudging the door so that it'd fall adjacent - but only to a marginal degree. The gap between wall and door became the temporary habitat of a lone, amber peeper, which meticulously scrutinized the outdoors for any signals pointing towards potential danger. No rogue gators roaming the streets. No good-for-nothing Pittians looming in the shadows. No vengeful spirits. No nothing. Clearly, the coast was clear. An elevated level of confidence now surged within him; he was ready for the outside world.

Between his pads once more, the road felt nice. Its stony crust was much cooler now that the hotter months had come to pass. The scrawny mongrel moseyed along the path's flank, making decent ground with the condition he was currently in. His goal was social interaction - ironic, seeing how he'd deliberately avoided that exact thing since the summer had commenced.

Being on death's doorstep changed one's opinions, however. If someone were to approach, he'd strike up a conversation without hesitation.

[member=6881]wormwood.[/member]

Wormwood had a great many things on his mind lately, but that didn't mean that he has just forgotten about the proxy that had seemingly disappeared from daily life fairly recently. At first Worm had felt a great deal of anxiety, worried that somehow Leroy had been snatched up from beneath their noses by the Pitt, with some cunning plan meant to cripple Tanglewood, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Occasionally he would be walking past Crow's house, either with a new joiner or some sort of prey he had caught, or on his way to host an event of some kind, and he would spot a flash of the canine in the window, staring steadfastly out with a sort of sadness in his eyes. Despite the prevalence of his recently discovered illness in Leroy's life, Wormwood wasn't actually aware of the cancer that was gripping the Proxy at the moment. This was mainly thanks to the discretion of Selby, who had kept his promise of confidentiality, and didn't tell anybody who Leroy didn't want him to. Worm hadn't specifically been someone to not tell, but he hadn't been someone to tell either, and that meant that he was in the dark about it.

This was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it meant that Leroy's illness wasn't yet another thing piling up upon Worm's shoulders to drive him crazy and fill him with anxiety, but it was a curse because it meant he didn't know why Leroy was upset, or how close he was to losing someone he considered a friend without even being able to spend some last time with him. Sure, he and Leroy had their differences in the past, and it wasn't as if they were as close as say Crow and Leroy, but that didn't mean that the hellhound didn't have a great deal of respect for Leroy, and wouldn't have been devastated with him passing away. He had already lost so many people lately, both to death and to being taken from him or leaving... he didn't want a fate like that to befall Leroy. Ultimately he would realize that there was truly nothing that he could do. After all, he had about as much power to stave off Leroy's sickness as Selby or Crow did, but still much like them, he would wish that he had the power. He didn't know why he felt a responsibility for the wellness and happiness of everyone in Tanglewood, but he just... did. And he found that questioning it didn't ever result in him getting any significant response from his own mind.

When Leroy finally emerged from his seemingly impenetrable fortress that he had created from Crow's home, Worm perked up from where he was sitting, munching on a rabbit that he had caught earlier in the day. He didn't want to seem like he had been eagerly waiting, but he did have to admit that he was glad to see the other canine up and walking about, even if it was only briefly. Taking another large bite of his rabbit, Wormwood swallowed it down before getting up to his paws, moving over to where Leroy was walking along, coming up beside the other and barking softly, "Hey, Leroy. It's nice to see you out and about these days again... ah, it's Wormwood, in case you didn't know." It hadn't even occurred to him that it was possible Leroy hadn't seen him since his impromptu form change that he couldn't seem to reverse, so it seemed like he should've quickly clarified, just so that Leroy didn't get confused by some random hellhound wandering up to him on the road in town. Once it seemed like the proxy was aware of his presence, he looked up at the sky for a moment before saying as his tail ragged slowly from side to side, "I was starting to get worried that you weren't ever gonna come put of Crow's house again and interact with us. I didn't know if I'd have to bust in there and say hello myself..." He chuckled a bit at his own little ribbed tease, but then glanced seriously at Lerpy before mumbling, "Seriously, though... are you alright? I haven't seen you come out of there for anything, even food."

//haven't forgotten about this! i'll get to it soon!

( it's np, take your time!! I'm excited for your response <3 )

Scarcely a moment had passed, and the male was already being greeted by a familiar face. Somewhat familiar, at least. He'd been informed of Wormwood's newfound infernal form - hell, he'd even seen the Chaser donning his new body on the day of Selby Roux's meltdown - yet the hellhound's sudden appearance nevertheless caught him off guard. It wasn't until the beast declared his name that the Proxy eased up, the fur along his spine that stood in alarm finally settling.

"Hello, Wormwood," Leroy returned softly. His words were stagnant, and lacked energy and vigour. The wolfhound's eyes contradicted his tone however, for they actively scrutinized the creature's figure with modest interest. Gone were wings painted in the colours of a raging blaze. Gone was the glorious mane that shrouded the feline's neck. Wormwood appeared to have opted out of the sovereign look he wore, instead going for a more rustic - more revolting - approach. Neat.

Wormwood spoke once more, this time in a manner that matched a concerned parent's. Leroy wished to roll his eyes whilst the perturbed words met his ears, though he'd refrain from it. After all, the undead-ish male was right to worry. How he knew about Crow's house, though, the mutt did not know. The canine made sure to keep the ordeal the down low; he wanted his relationship with Tanglewood's leader to stay strictly professional.

Brushing aside the nosy tidbits of Wormwood's dialogue, the male forces a meager chuckle, and clears his throat. "I'm still kickin' around, so that means at least somethin', don't it?

"Been livin' offa canned stuff, that's why ya haven't seen me leave the house, much." A sigh erupts from his hoarse throat, bringing a brief pause to Leroy's morose voice. "I dunno... just haven't really felt like gettin' out there after findin' out I don't got much long left. But enough about me - how're you holdin' up?"

Truthfully, Wormwood hadn't intentionally found put about the whole "Leroy being in Crow's house thing". He just bad a tendency to be a very observant member of the group, not to mention the fact that he commonly visited Selby and Crow to offer his services when they were needed, especially since Selby had been so extremely busy lately, and Worm was legitimately worried that the medic was going to explode if he didn't have somebody helping him out. Plus Worm felt pretty guilty over the fact that he was part of the group making Selby so stressed out. He didn't really think that he needed a lot of looking over – after all, he had just lost an eye – but it seemed as though Selby disagreed with him. So, over all of his different visits with Selby and speaking to him, it had eventually just sort of come up in conversation that Leroy was there. Worm had been... well, caught off guard was one way to put it. After all, all of his encounters with Leroy and Crow thus far had mostly just involved Leroy making fun of the leader of the group. So any sort of chemistry between them? He supposed it could have been there, but he certainly hadn't called it beforehand. Nonetheless, he didn't dwell on it for too long, since he didn't want to assume anything. After all, perhaps Leroy wasn't involved with Crow, and was just hanging out at his house for... some reason.

When Leroy finally spoke, Worm felt a frown of worry came to his face, noting the monotone way that his words poured forth from him without much more than just a need to say something or else the chaser would become further concerned. Shifting his paws as Leroy continued to speak, the hellhound gave a little nod of his head before barking, his claws scraping gently at the dirt beneath him, "Well, that is good. Wouldn't want you going anywhere..." He smiled lightly, opening his mouth to say something, anything to make the conversation a bit more lighthearted, but then Leroy was speaking again in that same exhausted voice, and he was saying things that didn't make sense. Sure, the canned food part wasn't what threw Wormwood off, since he was sure that with a bit of searching.he could find his own supply of the stuff, but it was what followed after that gave him pause. Leroy hadn't wanted to get out much... because he was dying? Confusion and a vague sense of hurt came to his face as he looked at the proxy, confused as to how he possibly couldn't have known that Leroy was dying. Despite all of his interactions with Selby, the medic had kept pretty tight lipped with the information of Leroy's diagnosis unless he knew that the wolfhound wanted somebody to know, and Wormwood often wrote off group rumors as nothing more than that – rumors. So he hadn't thought for even a moment that something was wrong with Leroy. He had figured the other had just been in some sort of funk that it was taking him a while to get out of.

Not only did Leroy drop that metaphorical bomb of information on him suddenly, but then the male just went right on ahead and moved to the next thing, casually asking Wormwood how he was doing. Worm felt his ears pin back in surprise for a moment before he was finally able to speak again, his voice sounding almost as if he had gotten the wind knocked out of him by a swift punch to the stomach – which had almost been what Leroy's words had been like, "I... I've been alright. I've obviously seen better days. After all, I'm stuck like this, and I'm down an eye now thanks to Beck, but that should hopefully be corrected when I'm able to shift back... what... what do you mean, by finding out you don't have much time yet? When did this happen?" Worm had, of course, been present for the check up where Leroy had found out, since he had been getting his wounds from the battle checked out, but he hadn't realized the entirety of the news that Selby had given Leroy then. He had noticed the proxy briefly acting a bit weird, but he hadn't done anything in the moment except nod stiffly and move off, so Worm and most of the others had been blissfully unaware. What possibly could have been killing Leroy? He had seemed so healthy and strong to Wormwood. Sure, he could be a hardass, but Worm had actually respected him more for that, and he certainly didn't want him dead, so what the hell was taking him away from them?

The male nods as Wormwood speaks, raising an intrigued brow at the mention the name of the poltergeist. There was hardly any time to dawdle on the thought of Beck being at fault for the beast's single eye, though - the Chaser's aghast reaction completely caught Leroy off guard. Had he not heard? Surely the news would have been spread through smalltalk. And, as Wormwood was easily one of the most active of the Tanglefolk, he should've possessed the more knowledge on the subject matter than anyone else. "I'm afraid my time's gonna be cut short," he admits in a sullen tone, "got a tumour, or whatever it's called." A sigh birthed out of unanticipated dejection breaks the silence following his earnest statement. He awkwardly clears his throat before rotating his figure to about ninety degrees in order to showcase the growth protruding from his midsection. "It's a nasty business, havin' t' put up with that. Hurts sometimes, makes me feel dizzy others. Selby said it was in my lungs so... that can't be good." All of a sudden, traces of envy whirred in his heart's chambers. Envy towards the other male. He spoke of shifting to another body, his words teeming with hope.

It was unfair.

In his lion form, he had two eyes. In his current form, he had one.

All it took was for him to change back into his original body and poof! All injuries sustained as a hellhound were suppressed - nay, fully forgotten about.

The mongrel would give anything and everything in his possession if it meant getting such a chance.

"Anywho~" the male blurts in a sharp manner, "at least things are somewhat goin' good for you."

It was sort of cruelly ironic, the way that Leroy felt envy over Wormwood's shapeshifting, despite the fact that he was wrong in the way he thought things worked. Despite the fact that Worm hoped it to be true, he would be in for a cruel reality when he finally regained the ability to shapeshift into his lion form, since the injury sustained by the group's poltergeist was one that would transcend each form, leaving him with only half of his vision for the rest of his life. However, right now his focus was not on himself. Rather, it was on the canine proxy in front of him, who had turned to show off the large growth that was steadily growing larger beneath him. The hellhound immediately winced upon seeing it, barking softly as he silently wished, along with Leroy, that he could just shift away the growth and continue living without a care in the world, "Jesus, you're right, that doesn't look good... I'm... sorry to hear about that. Hopefully we'll have you around for quite a while, though. What would we do without our hardass second in command?" He gave Leroy a small and crooked smile, trying to lighten the proxy's mood a bit as his tail wagged from side to side. He knew that Leroy had to be feeling pretty defeated right now, considering the predicament he was in, but the only thing that Worm could hope was that he could help out somewhat, possibly by providing his company.

When Leroy blurted out his own little interruption to change the subject, Worm jumped a little in surprise before chuckling softly, his voice rough and deep as he did so. He nodded and said softly, a sigh leaving him as he focused his one blue eye down on the ground for a brief moment, "Yeah, things are going well enough, at the very least. Been trying to adjust the best I can to this whole one eye thing, and the new hellhound form stuff... I'm a lot smaller than I was before, so I keep accounting for room that I'm not really taking up. Plus... Red has been worrying about me lately, considering the sudden change. He thinks it's a sign of something bigger, but I don't really think so. I mean, I feel perfectly fine, aside from the injury..." He shrugged his shoulders a bit as he thought back to his conversation with the mutated gorilla, wondering why Red had been so desperately concerned about him when he had gone to see him in the bunker. Not that Worm didn't appreciate Red'a attention – he found that he actually liked it quite a bit, for reasons that he couldn't quite place right now, or at least, reasons he studiously ignored – but it seemed like a little too much concern for just a little form change, something that happened all the time.