INFECTED WITH YOUR GENETICS ☆ o, joining

[wormwood.]

☆ HUNG PICTURES OF PATRON SAINTS UP ON MY WALL TO REMIND ME THAT I AM A FOOL. TELL ME WHERE I CAME FROM, WHAT I WILL ALWAYS BE: JUST A SPOILED LITTLE KID WHO WENT TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL —

Why did he think that leaving Tanglewood's territory was a good idea again? Oh, right, because he thought the Typhoon needed help. Of course, he had turned out to be right, but he was somewhat regretting his decision to do so now. It wasn't as if anything bad had happened at the Typhoon. No, his visit had been perfectly amicable, as always. No, it had been after he left that things had started to go downhill. Aurum had intended to just go straight back to Tanglewood, but... he was so tired. So, so tired. The trip had been exhausting, and he had already nearly been at his wits end thanks to the recent loss of Feza, and the general darkness that seemed to have passed over Tanglewood as of late. One moment, he had just been walking towards the swamp that he called home, and the next moment the world was spinning, with voices shrieking in near demonic voices at him, angry and vicious – you killed her, you killed her, you failure. Why was it that he always lost everyone? Why couldn't he hold on to those that he held so near and dear to his heart? The voices and the questions grew overwhelming quickly, and soon enough the lion was charging forward, rushing haphazardly through the neutral lands without any knowledge of where he was going, or why. All he knew was that he needed to get away. From all the voices, and all the guilt.

He wasn't sure how long it was that he spent running. It could've been only minutes, or it could've been hours, but he found himself leaning more towards the latter. His entire body was aching viciously by the time he arrived on the moors of the Knights of Concord, his chest heaving. His legs were quaking from the sheer effort of keeping himself upright, and his wings were torn and bloody, with feathers awkwardly bent from rushing through closely clustered trees. Allowing himself to fall back on his haunches, Aurum began to preen at his wings, exhaustedly pulling away crooked feathers and licking away blood. It wasn't long before he noticed the unusual scent that resided over the lands he was on. The moors were wide open and spacious, and the markings he could smell were unlike any of the major groups that he knew of. Curiosity piqued – and exhaustion preventing him from returning home as planned – the lion slowly pushed himself up to his paws, moving slowly over the grasslands. It wasn't long before he spotted a structure in the distance – a manor. Glancing around, the angel hesitated for a moment before he called out, tail twitching, "Hello? Is there anyone out here...? Can someone hear me?"

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

#psychosocial.