Ultimately, Wormwood honestly had no idea about his past life as an angel. Hell, it wasn't even truly a past life, since he hadn't died or fallen, rather he had been assigned a ward to watch over. Heaven, not wanting Wormwood to mess up and reveal his true nature, or rebel against them, had wiped his memories of what his home in the clouds had been like, as well as his knowledge of what he truly was. That was why, when his wings had grown in on his lion body, Worm had just assumed it was some strange mutation as a result of adjusting to Tanglewood's territory. However, it had actually been his angelic nature shining through, with his body adjusting to reflect the light he harbored inside of him. Now that he was in this new hellhound form, he figured there was no sign of any sort of feathered appendages upon him, but that wasn't entirely true. While no one except for the extremely devout and ethereal could see, Wormwood did have two faintly glimmering pure snow white wings upon the back of his hellhound form, along sixth a faintly glowing ring of light over his head. He couldn't see them himself, still being oblivious to everything that was hidden from him, but they were definitely there and present, to people like Dovedeparture.

When he had first arrived and Dove had communicated with him through telepathy, Worm had been both caught off guard and wildly confused by what she was saying to him. She talked about his new form as if he had picked it out himself – which he most definitely didn't, given the fact that he couldn't get out of the form – and had talked to him as if they were very familiar with each other. She had talked to him as if they were family, or the same species, and he had been left stunned and looking at her in confusion. The encounter had not only left him confused, but it had also left him with a feeling of curiosity and a strange familiarity that he couldn't seem to place at all. It was almost annoying, that little scratching in the back of his head that had him desperately grappling for words to describe and quantify what relation he had to Dove, but he couldn't really do anything about it. No matter how much he had asked around about Dove, trying to figure out why she seemed like someone he should know, he couldn't seem to figure out what the hell was going on with his seemingly missing memories.

Wormwood had sighed as he laid near the main camp of The Typhoon, resting his head and feeling rather frustrated with the current predicament he was in, but then all of a sudden the subject of his anguish was calling out his name. Still, it wasn't her fault that he was struggling right now, and he couldn't help the small smile that came to his face as he slowly got to his paws, trotting over to where Dove was approaching and barking quietly,  "Hey there miss... Dove, I believe it was?" His phantom wings stretched and twitched behind him, reflecting the happiness that filled his chest at the opportunity to get to know another one of his new clanmates. The hellhound barked as he glanced down for a moment, scuffing that faintly sandy group with his bone claws, a bit embarrassed that he was face to face with someone who seemed so much like family, yet he couldn't remember her at all, "What brings you over to talk to little old me?"