EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT + EMERGENCE

[toboggan]

//Follow-up to [HAVEN'T TOUCHED A PRETTY THING IN 40 DAYS]

Christian Brockenbrough. Leroy's younger brother of 3 years.

Appearance-wise, the siblings share a striking resemblance to one another (so much so that one could possibly mistake the two from a glance), though an affluence of differences was yet shared between the two.

Compared to his now-deceased brother, Christian...
- ...wore a solid gray coat, as opposed to Leroy's 'salt 'n pepper' strands of fur.
- ...bore eyes in a shade of [glow=#4d2600,2,300]DARK CHOCOLATE[/glow], in contrast to Leroy's [glow=#b38f00,2,300]AMBER[/glow].
- ...retained a mellow, youthful voice, in lieu of Leroy's raspy, mature tone.
- ...occupied a muscular, brawny figure, rather than Leroy's bony, lithe form.
- ...was 100% alive, instead of dead.

However, one similarity amid the brothers would render their differences as forfeit. As of four days and three quarters ago, Leroy was Christian. In a way.

Whilst in spirit form, alongside his adopted father, Leroy Starkweather came across the house, or rather, mansion in which his old family lived. His adopted father, Skipworth, had informed him that Leroy's original parents birthed another litter following his abandonment so many years ago. Intrigued, he requested Skipworth to take him to his family home. It was then he discovered that his folks belonged to a wealthy human couple, whom owned the brood of canines as prized showdogs. Benita, Horace, Speedy, Legend, and Christian were the given names of Leroy's younger brothers and sisters. Christian, being the healthiest looking one, became his body of choice.

God. This was going to be so awkward. Best to do away with it quickly, and discreetly.

Prowling through Tanglewood's looming vegetation, he comes to a stop at what he remembered to be a relatively quiet corner of town. Now it was time to wait - to wait for someone to approach, freak out, and hopefully not have a stroke.

[wormwood.]

i was born, on the highway, in a train wreck

with a heart, that was beating, out of my chest

When Leroy had died... Aurum had been devastated. It had felt like the rug had been utterly yanked out from underneath the guardsman, and like the air had been ripped cruelly from his lungs by some angry Pittian taking revenge for Kydobi. Still, in the moment, he hadn't really shown this, just holding his head high and trying to allowed Crow and the others their time to grieve while he remained silent, desperate to keep his emotions under control. In the following weeks after the canines death, Aurum had thrown himself into his work, constantly patrolling or hunting or doing something to keep his paws busy in order to keep himself from focusing on the loss that weighed heavy on his heart, mainly because he knew that he didn't have it as hard as some people. After all, it wasn't as if he was Crow and he had been in love with the guy, and he hadn't known Leroy as long as say Delilah had, but... regardless, Leroy had come to be a big influence on Aurum's way of life, and had even changed the lion's outlook on certain things like what had happened at the raid on the Pitt. Like it or not, Leroy had an impact on him, and it wasn't one that he could just ignore. In fact, it had only been very recently when the angel had been able to finally begin to heal, after finding the old bottle of whiskey he had given to Leroy as a gift sitting on his porch. He had finally allowed himself to actually feel the grief he had been shoving aside for so long, and had just sat with Roy for a bit, mourning and silently crying to get it all out. After that day, Aurum had still been working hard, but now it was simply for the good of Tanglewood, not just because he felt the need to distract himself constantly.

When it came to what had happened to Leroy in the aftermath of his death... well, Aurum hadn't really known what to expect. After the male's discovery that he was really an angel of above, Aurum had assumed that Leroy was probably somewhere up in heaven, enjoying himself and relaxing among the clouds, far away from the eyes of the tormented Angel's that resided there. Did he feel slightly bitter about the way that heaven had treated him? Yes. However, did that mean he didn't want Leroy to be happy up there? Hell no. He hoped that Leroy was perfectly happy, and just waiting patiently for when Crow would be able to join him. At first Aurum had thought that perhaps the canine would also have Arrow to keep him company, but... then the female had returned, which had led to a pretty unpleasant situation with Crow all on its own. Did Aurum ever suspect that Leroy had simply been... wandering among them? Well, not really. Despite being an angel, the only real experience Aurum had with spirits in the past was Beck, and Beck had always been so present and impossible to ignore that he had figured that any ghost would be the same way, including any wandering spirit of Leroy's. Evidently he had been wrong, however, since the unfortunate former Proxy had been forced to just wander among the swamp dwelling group, watching events pass as if they were a soap opera to watch idly. Honestly, Aurum probably would've tried to double kill himself if he had been subjected to such a fate after death... even if he wasn't exactly sure that he could die, anymore.

What Aurum certainly hadn't been expecting was for Leroy to come back, but it seemed as though fate had other plans that were about to utterly wreck any predictions for the future that the lion had. Aurum certainly knew about possession, of course, since it wasn't a particularly uncommon power for someone to have, but he had always seen Leroy as someone who didn't have any powers, and this hadn't expected for the other to ever return to them, like Arrow had. So, when Aurum padded into camp from the path that led to his house, he didn't immediately freak out upon seeing a canine that bore a mighty resemblance to Leroy. Sure, it wasn't exact, with the solid coloring and physique, along with the eyes, but it was certainly uncanny to see what similarities were there, and Aurum found himself pausing after a moment as he did a double take. Despite the several differences, there was an odd sort of draw to the canine that the guardsman immediately felt, and... the general aura that surrounded the seeming newcomer reminded him so strongly of Leroy that it almost made him sick. Against his better judgement, the angel found himself padding over slowly to the corner of camp, his one blue eye bright as he approached, the Leroy seeming aura only growing stronger. Once he was a few pawsteps in front of the other, he paused, sitting back and mumbling after a long moment, trying not to sound too stunned, "Leroy...?" He desperately hoped that he wasn't wrong, not only to save himself the embarrassment of calling some random new guy by the name of the old Proxy, but also because he desperately wanted Leroy back. Not only for him, but especially for Crow and the rest of the group that missed him so dearly.

template by orion

[deimos]

There was two concepts conflicting with him in this moment. Between being completely unknowing of this situation prior today, and death. A returned spirit. Something lingered on him like the film left by a nail crawling along. Death, the grim angel, the reaper- many names were attached to it, but no name explained the concept. He had dived into the concept, researching like Victor Frankenstein had before. Death was the leaving of the soul, in religious texts. In scientific texts, it was the end of brain and, even or, heart function. Piers had reconciled this coldly. Death was the act of dying, but killing was the act of forcing someone to die.

The other subject that bothered him deeply, as he approached the pair, caused him to pause a few feet away. At first, excitement had seized his heart- the cub like part of him- but the stricken look upon Aurum's face and the weak, almost guilty appearance of the wolfhound had caused his ears to flatten and make him take a step back. Forgotten lovers, missed brothers, clanmates- he didn't know that Leroy had died, who Leroy was, or any of that. It may have only been a month ago that he died, but at that age, Piers was just barely beginning to read.

He managed to crack a few words out as he stepped towards them, his tail lowly lashing behind him, and tufted ears flattened against his head. ".. Who's Leroy?" Piers' ocean blue gaze swiveled, matching up with the brown pair, and he frowned deeply. He didn't know him. He didn't like him, right off the bat. It was as if there was something unparalleled in his gaze. His lip upturned for a moment. Piers didn't want to care. But Aurum being so set off made him turn his nose away. He paced back a bit, not even waiting for an answer, and settling down with his paws neatly pushed together, rubbing a bit.

He was nervous.

template by orion

[arcy]

-

-

Listen. Crowley is going to be brutally honest here. He doesn't care about Leroy -- he hadn't cared when the canine died. This wasn't because he was a heartless bastard or anything, but he'd hardly seen the canine*, and, well ... he hadn't really cared about much going on here in the beginning. A passing worry for Aurum, and that was all. Self-centeredness born from a lack of permanence.
*And for good reason,
It hadn't occurred to him that the canine could come back. Arrow apparently had, but Crowley had hoped that'd be all, because he's not sure how much he could take on that front. Apparently, this is simply ... not true, and it's just as jarring as the first time.
Crowley can't remember what Leroy looked like. He doesn't think it's the exact same, but, well -- to be entirely fair, if you came back from the dead you wouldn't precisely want to look the exact same, with the exact same weaknesses. As someone who discorporated frequently and was entirely unable to change his eyes, he can attest to this.
"Oh, shit," Crowley utters softly, and then promptly decides not to think about it. His head hurts, and he feels a little .. ungrounded as it. Better not to debate to himself on what the whole ... returning from the dead thing means for the afterlife, lest it turn into a fucking migraine. "Uh. The old proxy. He .. died," His gaze, his single fucking eye, flickers between the trio, uncertain. He hardly has a place here, greeting the dead he hardly knew, but, technically, neither does Piers, so he doesn't worry about it. Better not to be in the center of things, though, so the serval promptly steps back to seat himself next to Piers, equally nervous. His tail curls around himself. He's not .. particularly fond of this situation, or what the hell is going on, but he's .. dealing. It's fine. Just because Crowley doesn't .. get it, or like it, doesn't mean he should rain on people's parade**.
**Technically, as a demon, this was practically Crowley's purpose in life. He hasn't been all that demonic lately, though.

-

[Crow Roux]

[div style="width: 55%; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]
Crow was not dead, but for the past month, he could not have felt any closer. It was as if each time he felt even a sliver of happiness, it was swept right from under his nose. The worst part was he knew that this would happen. Reminiscing, he tortured himself knowing it would not have hurt so bad if he had just stayed away.

[align=center]If he had just gone home that night.

The feline turned to unorthodox methods to ease his pain. He spent most of his waking hours in a drunk stupor to discover it did little to solve his problems, but merely numb them for a little while.

Anything was better than feeling the full blunt of his trauma.

Crow had become a husk of his former self in a span of thirty days, and he only left his home for necessities like food or a bathroom, and not many spoke to him on his excursions for they had gotten a taste of the temper that smouldered inside him. And that became business as usual. He did not want to be mean, but he found his impulse control to be dampened, and more often than not, he spoke what first came to mind rather than holding his tongue. Venom—that's what his words felt like as they passed over his lips, yet he did naught to contain them.

On this particular day, he stumbled from his home, reeking of booze, to stretch his legs, as he found them to be quite stiff from sitting around for hours on end. The tailtip of Wor- no, it was Aurum wasn't it? — maybe he was not as forgetful as he thought he was — the tailtip of Aurum caught his sunken eyes, and with a weary prod over, he noticed what they all had noticed. A hound with a youthful shine to him stood tall as if expecting to be found. A very bad intrusion, if that was the case. He was in plain sight! But Crow squinted the best he could to inspect the figure more.

Tall. Grey, messy fur. Almost like Leroy, yet not quite. Yet the stranger did not smell nor look like Leroy, and that made Crow angry. Much more angry than he should have been at a stranger. "Who gave ya th' right to be here?" he slurred as his pathetic legs threatened to buckle underneath him. "Stop standin' there starin' like a himbo an' say somethin' already."

[toboggan]

Prior to stepping foot in home turf once again, the canine put a substantial amount of forethought into what he might potentially experience once in recognizable territory. Interacting with individuals who believed him to be long dead would be beyond surreal for both him and the unfortunate individual that came across his mortal ass, hence it was crucial that he was mentally prepared for whatever offbeat encounters awaiting him. It was incredibly crucial that he was ready, for he was a ticking time bomb while in this form, primed to detonate at any given moment and create a commotion. Even for those who couldn't care less about him, the male's abrupt return could act as the foundation for an unsettling scene - at the end of the day, it wasn't commonplace for an individual to casually return after a month-long absence, especially when said individual had been assuredly dead at the beginning of their absence.

And causing a scene was probably the lowest item on his wishlist at the current moment.

Thus he sat on the earth, his newfound rump pressed rigidly against the soggy topsoil, patiently hoping for fate to take its place.

The whole waiting process would have been one-hundred percent issue-free, too, if fate wasn't such a fucking slowpoke. Ofttimes, the hound had no problem whatsoever with sticking around in expectation, but when the stakes were high as all hell (as they were right now), simply lingering around put him on edge. So, right now, Leroy was on edge. Really on edge. It got to the point where every passing second dumped another metaphorical boatload of tension on top of the mongrel's spine. This completely decimated his 'prepared' state of mind, leaving him defenseless against whatever, or whoever, came his way.

Upon catching glimpse of Wormwood's golden coat, Leroy felt his heart skip a beat. He attempted to muster up the plans of action he had concocted beforehand, only to fail, for his sense of anticipation had already been thrown out of the window. A knot soon developed within his throat, which even furthered the level of stress tallying up inside his brain.

Wormwood is approaching, an uncanny glare shimmering from his single baby blue.

In a spur-of-the-moment move, the canine's mind concocts three potential routes. Fight, flight, or freeze. To fight is to combat the inane bulk of stress building up in his system, and desperately attempt to communicate with the lion. To flight (which wasn't grammatically correct, but he had more important things to worry about than grammar) is to run away, to dart towards the looming forest over yonder, just to spare him from any more strain. And lastly, to freeze is to freeze - to stop everything.

By now, the overgrown feline parked himself a good metre or three away, staring Leroy dead in the eyes. Now was the optimal time to choose a strategy.

"Leroy...?"

Leroy froze.

It wasn't long before an abundance of other felines, each smaller than Wormwood, made appearances of their own. Firstly, there was an adolescent, a character the wolfhound had never laid his eyes on before. He refrained from saying much, only breaking his silence to ask about Leroy - which the male did not answer, on account of him being frozen. Soon afterwards came Crowley, a figure that he faintly recognized. Luckily for the frozen cur, the sunglasses-clad cat took care of the kid's question. And ultimately, out stumbled Crow Roux, whose person rang of foul alcohol. The alabaster feline never had a fine taste in booze, so when the rancid stench met his wet snout, it was enough to break the canine free from his frozen bonds. The ability to speak returned to his mouth, and he was just about to utilize it to tell everyone just how much he missed them. However, Crow had decided that it was his turn to speak, and made use of his turn by drunkenly abhor Leroy's presence - referring to him as a himbo in the process.

When Crow appeared to be finished with his bewailing, the mongrel finally decided to speak.

"I'm back," he murmurs feasibly.

"Wormwood," he says the lion's name monotonously, nodding towards the male whilst he spoke. He readies himself to repeat this notion with those present that he knew. "Crowley."

"Crow."

"It appears, gentlemen," he says mildly, chocolate hues dancing betwixt the three figures before him, "that I am here."

It was a demanding task, but he managed to subside the urge to run to Crow and embrace him in a loving hold. That could be arranged later, far away from the eyes of the public.

[wormwood.]

i was born, on the highway, in a train wreck

with a heart, that was beating, out of my chest

Aurum was so utterly stunned by the reappearance of a canine that bore such a striking resemblance to Leroy that he almost didn't even notice the approach of Piers, followed up quickly by Crowley and then Crow. Aurum opened his muzzle to respond to Piers's question, but the words died in the large feline's throat, unable to truly explain who Leroy had been. Thankfully, Crowley stepped in, and Aurum shot him a grateful look, glad that at least somebody could give a very brief explanation to the young newcomer. Aurum was about to turn his head back to face the Leroy lookalike, but he was caught off guard by the appearance of none other than Crow, unable to keep a fair bit of shock from his one blue eye at the tom's approach. It had been quite a while since he had seen the general out and about, and he had honestly begun to worry that he had disappeared off the face of the earth, or died or something. However, this almost seemed.... worse, than either of those options. Crow was still here, and very much alive, but his state was hardly something to be proud of, stumbling about over to the scene and slurring angrily about himbos to the male who could very well be the love of his life. It almost would've been comedic, if it wasn't so sad for the lion to see the normally levelheaded male in such a state. He faintly found himself wondering if Selby was aware of what his father had been doing, or if he had just given up, proclaiming the general a lost cause.

Aurum wasn't left to ponder about Crow's state for much longer, however, as finally the wolfhound in front of them spoke, his simple words seeming to make the entire world slow down around the lion. I'm back. The statement was so simple and to the point that it was almost baffling, but Aurum had already had his suspicions about the other's identity when he had first seen him, and now this? Happiness flooded the lion's bones, although he held himself back from giving into the desire to throw his arms around Leroy and hug the hell out of him. Both for the sake of Leroy's small body, and for the sake of his own dignity. It was definitely an extremely happy occasion, but once again Aurum couldn't help but glance over at Crow, wondering how the feline would react to the reappearance of his previously dead lover. Especially in his current drunk state. Attempting to keep the peace, Aurum rumbled warmly to Leroy, a smile curling on his muzzle as his one remaining blue eye looked down at the canine welcomingly, "...Welcome back, Leroy. It's good to see you alive and well... should've known your stubborn ass wasn't dead permanently." His tone was soft and joking, hoping to cut the obvious tension that had gripped Leroy since Aurum had seen him sitting at the edge of camp. It was no doubt a very stressful situation for him, considering Aurum couldn't even imagine dying and having come back to your loved ones... especially loved ones that had, for the most part, managed to grieve properly and just begun to turn things around. Crow being the exception, obviously. But he had the closest relationship to Leroy out of any of them, so Aurum supposed that was understandable.

Once he was done with his bit of greeting, Aurum stepped back a little, giving Leroy and Crow a bit of room. He doubted there would be any loving embraces in the public eye, but that didn't mean that Crow wouldn't many to give the canine some sort of greeting. Whether it be a hug or a punch... the lion honestly wasn't too sure. Part of him wanted to cover Piers's eyes to protect him from any possible fit that drunken Crow could have, since the poor kid had already been subjected to watching him viciously attack Astiar, but he didn't want to manhandle the small feline, or make him feel uncomfortable. So instead he just settled alongside Crowley and Piers, watching the entire situation curiously. He honestly wasn't sure how to react. The old Aurum would've burst into tears, so glad to see Leroy – or any beloved member of the group, really – alive and well. However, the old Aurum also would've bawled his eyes out and blamed himself over Leroy's death, and that had been something the lion had sworn off, mainly because of the words of the wolfhound himself.

template by orion