[/td][td]

[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

The wind took an abrupt shift and Ivan stiffened upon tasting the scent of his brother nearby. He swallowed, one paw raised in the air. Ahead was the library, Ivan's final place of solace. Home no longer held a concrete meaning to him, it was reduced to rubble and stole his mother's life. Ivan was accustomed to feeling alone — he may always be the odd one out of his peers. But this, well, nobody could see this coming.

And it was mainly fear of the unknown, and the ramifications of his theories that caused Ivan to grieve over what had happened. That this was it. That would be the last day he spent with his mother. And there was no hope for eternal life if there was no soul.

He bore his own survivor's guilt, but he wasn't the one who saw her right before she died. That honor (if it is permissible to call such a terrible thing honor, but what did it matter, Ivan does not believe in virtue) was given to Atticus and perhaps Simon and Aurum, he wasn't sure. His memory was hazy, as if he was desperately trying to discard it in the landfill of his brain.

Ivan knew Atticus was shutting himself out, so a chance to catch him in the open was in his paws now. And so he follows the trail and pawprints all the way up to the edge, tensing as he realizes the direction. Ivan bares his teeth and sinks his claws into the ground, writhing in internal wrath.

It seemed as though the Roux family within Tanglewood simply could not catch a break. First the disappearance of Winston to Elysium, then the horrific death of Moth during the tremors, and now the disappearance of Atticus as well. It seemed as though the entire family was crumbling down, splitting apart and leaving behind horrible marks that would be carried with them all forever. Aurum had thought that his family was bad, but at least he and Poet had stuck together for the majority of their lives. Meanwhile, it seemed as though Moth and Selby's kids couldn't be any more eager to get away from the trauma they had suffered – although the angel certainly couldn't say he blamed them. His own shoulders were weighed down heavily by the after effects of Moth's death, and he couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for her children. He had lost his mother, yes, but he had never truly loved her, just as she had never truly loved him. Moth, however? She had loved her children more than anything, and he was sure they loved her the same in turn.

After spending the majority of his day simply working to put the territory back together after the tremors, it was actually sort of a relief for Aurum to be able to just take a simple patrol along the border. Unfortunately, that relief was short lived when he came upon Ivan, able to see the clash of emotions taking place on the boy's young face. The lion was confused for a moment, but it only took a second of opening his jaws to realize what was going on. Atticus's scent, the border, and a trail headed straight for the Pitt. Aurum stared out over the border line, a sorrowful look in his eyes as he muttered, "Why would he..." Why would Atticus ever think The Pitt to be a better place for him in his time of need? Was Tanglewood simply not good enough? He could understand wanting to be away from the memories of his mother's death, but The Pitt? Why not The Typhoon, one of their closest allies?

[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #1B1B2F; font-size: 24px;"][color=#44437F]— AURUM