Reading had always been a comfort to Aurum, in his darkest times. Particularly when he was but a cub, he had often found himself lost in dusty, scavenged tomes, losing himself in stories so that he didn't have to worry about the wars raging around him. He no longer had to think about his mother's cruel and cold voice, reminding him of why he would never be enough. Instead, he could just pretend that he was a grave knight, off on a quest to save the prince. Or a lone adventurer, discovering lands that had only ever been dreamt about. Books had always offered him so many better worlds, that were more warm and welcoming than the harsh, unfair one most of them were often stuck with. The same could be said of his relationship to stories even now, although he had a tendency to indulge in them less these days, since he was often much more busy than in his childhood.

Delilah's presence after he had returned from his month-long absence had been... shocking, to say the least. However, it was far from a negative, and Aurum found himself eager to spend more time with his old friend, especially given how out of it she seemed as of late. He could only imagine how she must've been feeling, considering the absence of her child and Ren, and the new stinging feeling of Leroy's absence – she hadn't even been able to enjoy having him alive again, before he had left with Crow. With all of this in mind, Aurum found himself drawn over when he caught scent of Delilah, heavy pawsteps carrying him over to where the reptile was reading. Clearing his throat, the former proxy questioned softly, "Hey, Del... what are you reading about?" He could see books of all different kinds scattered around her, and he couldn't help but wonder what her favorite genre was.

Aurum couldn't say that he exactly blamed Delilah for being sad about the hand she had been dealt in the unfortunate card game that was life. For a brief time there, it had seemed as though the dragoness had finally acquired true happiness, only to have it yanked away when one of her closest friends died. The feeling was achingly familiar to the lion, who found himself nodding along when Delilah spoke. Settling back on his haunches, the angel let his tail fall lightly over his own paws before he spoke, "Poe... I can't say that I've read a lot of his works, mostly because they were usually too grim for me." He laughed lightly, his voice slightly dry and tired. It was odd, feeling as though something was too grim when he knew just how unforgiving life could be, "I think I understand some of his stories more nowadays, though..." He managed a small smile in response to Delilah's own, although it felt strangely forced, considering the circumstances and the words that left her, "I wish them the best too, but... it's also good to not give up hope, right? Hope is one of the only things that keeps me going, some days..." He wasn't exactly sure what had come of Ren or of Flint, but he could at least believe that perhaps one day they would come back, right? For Delilah?