( written for the October cdc prompt "deceit" !! )

When Wormwood had first found Judith's body after Poet killed her, he had been in such a state of shock that hardly anybody had been able to get through to him. He had hidden himself away from everyone, internalizing everything and falling apart silently, before finally going out and giving gifts to everyone to show all of them how much he cared for them, and it had marked a true turning point in his life. That had been when he had decided to stop clinging onto the past, the past that had hurt him so terribly before, and start focusing on the bright future that he had ahead of him, the future that was seemingly full of friends and family that actually did care about him, and even loved him unconditionally, without any lies behind their words. That had been when he had truly started to live for himself, and he still thought back to the day when he had given gifts to everyone fondly in his heart. However, today was not the day for happy reminiscing and gift giving. Rather, because of all of the joiners that Tanglewood had gotten recently, Wormwood had decided that it was finally time for him to clear out and clean Poetking's old house, so that someone else could use it. Judith's body had been removed from the building and buried ages ago, but the actually cleaning out of the rest of it was left to Wormwood, so that they weren't disrespectful with Poet's things. If Worm was being honest, he didn't give a shit if they were disrespectful, since Poetking was no longer his brother, but he appreciated the gesture, at the very least.

As Wormwood approached the front door of Poetking's house, he could already feel his heart beginning to sink down into his gut, wanting desperately to just turn around and go back home. However, he gritted his teeth and shook his head, internally scolding himself. He was going to do this, damn it. He wasn't going to chicken out like he had so many times before. Taking a deep breath, the lion hesitated before pushing open the door with a paw, immediately recoiling when the scent of decay and blood invaded his senses. Once again he considered just turning around, abandoning the task entirely, but he stubbornly refused, moving inside with the bucket of water and sponge that he had brought along with. Blood and gore still splattered the walls and the floor near Poet's little table, and Worm sighed heavily as he dunked the sponge beneath the water, lifting it in his mouth and beginning to carefully scrub the blood away, trying to remain as detached from the task as possible as he cleaned up. He managed to mostly succeed at that goal, at least until he was done cleaning up the blood. Once all of the blood and gore was absent from the small home, the only thing left to do was to clear out Poet's belongings. He had taken a few things with him when he had abandoned them, but it had obviously been a frantic escape, and most of his stuff was still just... sitting there. Unused and unloved, left to rot, just as Wormwood had been. The thought made a lump settle in his throat, and he moved to carefully push the bucket of now red water outside onto the porch, before he turned and began to sort through his brother's belongings.

He tried to remain detached as he did this as well, but this didn't exactly last particularly long. Wormwood had no intention of keeping any of his brother's old things, so he was for the most part just stuffing everything into a garbage bag, steadfastly ignoring anything that he found familiar... up until he reached Poet's small bookshelf. Practically every book on the shelf was a gift from Wormwood, since the older of the two had always been the more avid reader. As Worm sat in front of the bookcase, staring up at it, he felt the lump in his throat grow bigger and bigger, until it gradually spread out to clog his entire chest, corrupting his breathing and making him choke. When they had been younger, Poet had always promised him so enthusiastically, saying in his soft and kind voice, a voice that Worm had once thought could do no wrong, "Don't worry Worm, we'll be together forever! That gives me plenty of time to read the books you give me, even if I lose track in the middle a bunch!" Worm could still remember scoffing at his brother then, rolling his eyes and nudging the younger male playfully, admonishing him for never reading all the way through. Now the memory just made the lump worse, his thoughts drifting from his goal of cleaning and beginning to degrade. Poet had done nothing but lie, their entire lives. Poetking had received him since they were just cubs, promising constantly that they would always be by each other's sides. His little brother had been nothing but a deceitful soul, acting as if they were family when he never actually cared. If he had ever actually cared, then he wouldn't have abandoned Worm to go off gallivanting to the Pitt.

Worm's claws slowly dug into the hard wood floors of the small room he was in, hot and angry tears stinging his one good eye as he clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Eventually the dam broke, unable to withstand the flood of emotions that came either the realization that the one siblings he had ever had, had never actually cared about him at all. A broken sob left the lion as he sat in the little house, crying as silently as he could manage, his fat tear drops splattering against the wood flooring beneath him before he gritted out silently, his entire body, down to the ends of his very feathers, trembling with exhaustion and sadness, "I can't believe I ever believed you... I can't believe I ever trusted that you were actually my brother... you're nothing but a bastard. I hope you rot, wherever the fuck you are." The only faint silver lining that there was to all of this was that the disappearance of Poet had ended up making Worm and Moth grow closer together, until they got to the point now where they were like siblings. And Moth was a sister that Worm knew wasn't lying every time that she said she cared about him.