10-12-2019, 12:02 AM
( done for october CDC prompt of "midnight", along with having been the works for a while for worm to find out he was an angel )
Wormwood had a small clock that sat next to his bed, constantly ticking away the hours of the day and through the night, an everpresent reminder of time slowly draining away. The clock sat on one of his drawers, right beside the mirror he often used to inspect himself when he needed to look at new wounds or forms, or just to inspect himself in general. The clear oval of glass had, over time, come to represent the other. Just a thin wall between him and his reflection staring back at him, an other that had gradually become even more unfamiliar as time went on and on around him. When he had first arrived in Tanglewood and moved into his house, he avoided looking into or getting any mirror, too afraid of what he would see staring back at him. As time had gone off and.he had become more comfortable with himself, he had eventually gotten a mirror and taken in his own face. He had taken in every little detail and every imperfection, as well as every positive, and he had been happy. And then he had been turned into a hellhound by Arethas, and when he had looked into the mirror, he had seen a grotesque reflection staring back at him, a permanent grimace occupying the canine's face with every moment. Wormwood had avoided the mirror for days after that, fearful that it was a reflection of his inner self – that he had never really improved from the brother attacking liar that he had arrived in Tanglewood as. That he was nothing more than the nightmare he had been turned into. However, yet again he had been proven wrong, able to look back in the mirror at himself once again once Red had killed Arethas, able to take in his own golden form and feel like maybe he had been worrying over nothing.
Now when he looked in the mirror at himself... he wasn't sure what he saw, honestly. The "other" that had stared back at him for so long had slowly begun to lose any sort of familiarity ever since he had started to get the strange nightmares of heaven that plagued him nearly every night now. He wasn't sure who he truly was, or why these visions were desperately trying to reach out to him. When he looked into the faintly glittering glass in front of him before bed, he didn't know who he was looking at. Was it Wormwood the responsible father, the one grieving over his missing son? Wormwood, the suffering brother, still angry over the sibling that had gone away? Wormwood, the guardsman, desperately trying to defend the only semblance of family that he had left from the looming threat of the Pitt? Or was he just... Wormwood, the lion that never truly knew himself, and especially didn't know himself now? His thoughts were dizzying, and he dug his claws into the wood cabinet that the mirror rested on for a moment before he caught sight of Roy's empty bed in the reflection. A heavy sigh left him as he saw the undisturbed bedsheets, tidied up by him the morning before Roy had gone missing, snatched from their very own territory. He had thought that maybe the dreams had started as a result of Roy being taken, but then he remembered that he had already started having the heavenly nightmares before Roy had been taken, with the boy even helping to calm him down one night after he had suffered.
The guardsman looked down for a long moment before moving away from the cabinet, and over to his bed, slowly climbing up onto the sturdy bed and resting his head down against the pillows. Part of him didn't want to sleep – wanted to fight against it like he had been struggling to do so often lately so that he didn't have nightmares – but he ignored that point, just closing his eyes and relaxing as he let himself slowly drift off into sleep. He knew it would have consequences once he was dragged beneath the icy depths of his subconscious, but he found that he didn't care, not when he was so miserable during the day as a result of avoiding it. Every dream always started out the same, with him in a strange form made of swirling rings, eyeballs, and wings, with his tears filling up the heavenly room he was trapped in before a grand voice told him that it was time for him to go, and defeat his duty. Just as he had done every time that this dream started, Worm attempted to scream out his questions, desperate for answers that he would never be given because he had no mouth, and thus, could not scream. When the room of white light in his dreams once again filled with the salty ocean of his tears he expected to be dragged into some sort of horrible scene – Poetking dead before him, screeching out insults and asking him when he would get another person killed, Judith's reanimated form gurgling on her own blood and asking him why he had always been such a disappointment, or finally just his father, looking down at him with a blank stare and asking why he had failed them, over and over again.
However, it seemed as though this time was different. Wormwood was startled to find that, in his dream, he was in a familiar field. It was a small field within Tanglewood's territory that Worm liked to frequent when he needed somewhere calm to rest. He blinked in wonder as he looked around, his voice soft as he called out into the air, expecting no response, "Hello...?" He jumped even more, however, when a soft and sweet voice responded to him, "Hey Wormy... long time no see." His head snapped over to the source of the voice, and he took in a pained breath when he saw him – it was Ares, his boyfriend from back when he was in the pride. The tiger had been murdered by Judith long ago, a punishment for Worm not wanting to give them heirs. Wormwood felt his heart ache with nostalgia as soon as he saw the other, and he slowly moved over, saying in soft disbelief as he pressed his nose against the other's cheek, "Ares... I thought for sure I'd never see you again. What... where... where am I?" A soft laugh left Ares before he responded, pressing their foreheads together lovingly, "We're at your home, Wormy. Tanglewood... I like this place. I think I would've loved it if I could've ended up here with you... still, I'm glad that you're happy now, even on your own. With your own little new secrets." He smiled knowingly up at the winged lion, who felt a blush come up beneath his fur.
Wormwood opened up his mouth, so many questions for Ares swirling in his mind, but Ares cut him off, shaking his head, "I'm afraid we don't have time for reminiscing. I'm here to stop these dreams that plague you, and to ease that sense of confusion you've been feeling for so long." Worm frowned at this and questioned in confusion, shaking his head from side to side, "Ares, what... what do you mean...?" Ares just smiled again at this, pressing his nose against Worm's forehead before he rumbled softly, a warm glow seeming to radiate off of him and make the edges of Wormwood's vision fuzzy, "I need you to remember everything you've forgotten, my angel. I need you to remember everything that you've lost, and most of all... I need you to forgive yourself, for everything that you couldn't control." Worm opened his muzzle again, frantic and desperate for some kind of answers, but no words left him, his vision gradually becoming fuzzier and fuzzier before he felt the faintest goodbye near his ear, and then all he could hear was the nearly overwhelming ticking of his clock nearby. The lion felt his eyes slowly open and adjust as he found himself back in reality, his dreams just a faint and distant memory that was rapidly fading even now. What did keep him awake, however, was the sudden flood of memories into his mind, such a grand amount of information that he nearly got sick from the force of it all. The male found himself staring at the wall in front of him for a moment before he stumbled down from his bed, his breath coming out in soft gasp as he passed by the clock, steadying ticking by as the hour hit midnight.
Worm was deeply relieved as he threw open the door of his small wooden home, the cold air rushing into his lungs and providing him relief from the suffocating feeling he had been fighting against indoors. His legs were faintly trembling as he lifted himself up onto the railing of his porch, letting his head hang down and just letting the wind rush through his fur as he stood there for several moments, processing everything that had returned to him. He had once been an angel, a powerful throne angel who knew everything of the sorrows of the world, following the every whim of his lord, until he had eventually been assigned as the guardian angel of Poetking, a young prince that was going to suffer an extremely hard and horrible life if Worm wasn't there to protect him. As all of it slowly came together in his mind, Worm found... it made so much sense. It made everything fall into place – every restless night spent wondering how he had failed Poet, every day spent worrying about others. All of it made so much sense, and it was somehow such a relief.
Wormwood's breath came out in soft and delighted laughter into the night as he thought about the realization, a grin on his muzzle as he shook his head, the angelic wings upon his back stretching out to either side of him. He was sure that eventually he'd have to process everything that he had learned in his dreams – he'd have to think about what all of it meant, and what being an angel meant for his life, and why he had forgotten all about his past spiritual life and mission – but for now? He was just so damn happy that he actually knew who he was again that he felt like he could scream and shout in absolute joy. However, since it was well into the midnight hour at this point, he held himself back, just mumbling breathlessly to himself and anybody nearby as he stared out into the dark beautiful night that had settled over Tanglewood, "I'm an angel... I can't believe it, I'm really a fucking angel... This is incredible..."
Wormwood had a small clock that sat next to his bed, constantly ticking away the hours of the day and through the night, an everpresent reminder of time slowly draining away. The clock sat on one of his drawers, right beside the mirror he often used to inspect himself when he needed to look at new wounds or forms, or just to inspect himself in general. The clear oval of glass had, over time, come to represent the other. Just a thin wall between him and his reflection staring back at him, an other that had gradually become even more unfamiliar as time went on and on around him. When he had first arrived in Tanglewood and moved into his house, he avoided looking into or getting any mirror, too afraid of what he would see staring back at him. As time had gone off and.he had become more comfortable with himself, he had eventually gotten a mirror and taken in his own face. He had taken in every little detail and every imperfection, as well as every positive, and he had been happy. And then he had been turned into a hellhound by Arethas, and when he had looked into the mirror, he had seen a grotesque reflection staring back at him, a permanent grimace occupying the canine's face with every moment. Wormwood had avoided the mirror for days after that, fearful that it was a reflection of his inner self – that he had never really improved from the brother attacking liar that he had arrived in Tanglewood as. That he was nothing more than the nightmare he had been turned into. However, yet again he had been proven wrong, able to look back in the mirror at himself once again once Red had killed Arethas, able to take in his own golden form and feel like maybe he had been worrying over nothing.
Now when he looked in the mirror at himself... he wasn't sure what he saw, honestly. The "other" that had stared back at him for so long had slowly begun to lose any sort of familiarity ever since he had started to get the strange nightmares of heaven that plagued him nearly every night now. He wasn't sure who he truly was, or why these visions were desperately trying to reach out to him. When he looked into the faintly glittering glass in front of him before bed, he didn't know who he was looking at. Was it Wormwood the responsible father, the one grieving over his missing son? Wormwood, the suffering brother, still angry over the sibling that had gone away? Wormwood, the guardsman, desperately trying to defend the only semblance of family that he had left from the looming threat of the Pitt? Or was he just... Wormwood, the lion that never truly knew himself, and especially didn't know himself now? His thoughts were dizzying, and he dug his claws into the wood cabinet that the mirror rested on for a moment before he caught sight of Roy's empty bed in the reflection. A heavy sigh left him as he saw the undisturbed bedsheets, tidied up by him the morning before Roy had gone missing, snatched from their very own territory. He had thought that maybe the dreams had started as a result of Roy being taken, but then he remembered that he had already started having the heavenly nightmares before Roy had been taken, with the boy even helping to calm him down one night after he had suffered.
The guardsman looked down for a long moment before moving away from the cabinet, and over to his bed, slowly climbing up onto the sturdy bed and resting his head down against the pillows. Part of him didn't want to sleep – wanted to fight against it like he had been struggling to do so often lately so that he didn't have nightmares – but he ignored that point, just closing his eyes and relaxing as he let himself slowly drift off into sleep. He knew it would have consequences once he was dragged beneath the icy depths of his subconscious, but he found that he didn't care, not when he was so miserable during the day as a result of avoiding it. Every dream always started out the same, with him in a strange form made of swirling rings, eyeballs, and wings, with his tears filling up the heavenly room he was trapped in before a grand voice told him that it was time for him to go, and defeat his duty. Just as he had done every time that this dream started, Worm attempted to scream out his questions, desperate for answers that he would never be given because he had no mouth, and thus, could not scream. When the room of white light in his dreams once again filled with the salty ocean of his tears he expected to be dragged into some sort of horrible scene – Poetking dead before him, screeching out insults and asking him when he would get another person killed, Judith's reanimated form gurgling on her own blood and asking him why he had always been such a disappointment, or finally just his father, looking down at him with a blank stare and asking why he had failed them, over and over again.
However, it seemed as though this time was different. Wormwood was startled to find that, in his dream, he was in a familiar field. It was a small field within Tanglewood's territory that Worm liked to frequent when he needed somewhere calm to rest. He blinked in wonder as he looked around, his voice soft as he called out into the air, expecting no response, "Hello...?" He jumped even more, however, when a soft and sweet voice responded to him, "Hey Wormy... long time no see." His head snapped over to the source of the voice, and he took in a pained breath when he saw him – it was Ares, his boyfriend from back when he was in the pride. The tiger had been murdered by Judith long ago, a punishment for Worm not wanting to give them heirs. Wormwood felt his heart ache with nostalgia as soon as he saw the other, and he slowly moved over, saying in soft disbelief as he pressed his nose against the other's cheek, "Ares... I thought for sure I'd never see you again. What... where... where am I?" A soft laugh left Ares before he responded, pressing their foreheads together lovingly, "We're at your home, Wormy. Tanglewood... I like this place. I think I would've loved it if I could've ended up here with you... still, I'm glad that you're happy now, even on your own. With your own little new secrets." He smiled knowingly up at the winged lion, who felt a blush come up beneath his fur.
Wormwood opened up his mouth, so many questions for Ares swirling in his mind, but Ares cut him off, shaking his head, "I'm afraid we don't have time for reminiscing. I'm here to stop these dreams that plague you, and to ease that sense of confusion you've been feeling for so long." Worm frowned at this and questioned in confusion, shaking his head from side to side, "Ares, what... what do you mean...?" Ares just smiled again at this, pressing his nose against Worm's forehead before he rumbled softly, a warm glow seeming to radiate off of him and make the edges of Wormwood's vision fuzzy, "I need you to remember everything you've forgotten, my angel. I need you to remember everything that you've lost, and most of all... I need you to forgive yourself, for everything that you couldn't control." Worm opened his muzzle again, frantic and desperate for some kind of answers, but no words left him, his vision gradually becoming fuzzier and fuzzier before he felt the faintest goodbye near his ear, and then all he could hear was the nearly overwhelming ticking of his clock nearby. The lion felt his eyes slowly open and adjust as he found himself back in reality, his dreams just a faint and distant memory that was rapidly fading even now. What did keep him awake, however, was the sudden flood of memories into his mind, such a grand amount of information that he nearly got sick from the force of it all. The male found himself staring at the wall in front of him for a moment before he stumbled down from his bed, his breath coming out in soft gasp as he passed by the clock, steadying ticking by as the hour hit midnight.
Worm was deeply relieved as he threw open the door of his small wooden home, the cold air rushing into his lungs and providing him relief from the suffocating feeling he had been fighting against indoors. His legs were faintly trembling as he lifted himself up onto the railing of his porch, letting his head hang down and just letting the wind rush through his fur as he stood there for several moments, processing everything that had returned to him. He had once been an angel, a powerful throne angel who knew everything of the sorrows of the world, following the every whim of his lord, until he had eventually been assigned as the guardian angel of Poetking, a young prince that was going to suffer an extremely hard and horrible life if Worm wasn't there to protect him. As all of it slowly came together in his mind, Worm found... it made so much sense. It made everything fall into place – every restless night spent wondering how he had failed Poet, every day spent worrying about others. All of it made so much sense, and it was somehow such a relief.
Wormwood's breath came out in soft and delighted laughter into the night as he thought about the realization, a grin on his muzzle as he shook his head, the angelic wings upon his back stretching out to either side of him. He was sure that eventually he'd have to process everything that he had learned in his dreams – he'd have to think about what all of it meant, and what being an angel meant for his life, and why he had forgotten all about his past spiritual life and mission – but for now? He was just so damn happy that he actually knew who he was again that he felt like he could scream and shout in absolute joy. However, since it was well into the midnight hour at this point, he held himself back, just mumbling breathlessly to himself and anybody nearby as he stared out into the dark beautiful night that had settled over Tanglewood, "I'm an angel... I can't believe it, I'm really a fucking angel... This is incredible..."
[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]
— Reggan
