[center][img]https://images.cooltext.com/5059894.png[/img][/center] One calm breath, after the other. Willow sought to center himself within the hellscape that was this chapel, the holy ground on which he resided until given leave. Not one action was his own, not one thought came to bear without permission. The boy attempted to silence the lingering and ever audible presence within his skull, something which came to be in an age old past. A focus, he needed to have something on which to lay his eyes, and occupy his mind. Though, the scent of pine and a forest's warm embrace did manage to bring an ember to life within the boy's heart. Growler, a creature mocked and shunned within the confines of their prison. The two had a relationship considered silent by any measure, but present, all the same. In a way, Willow viewed the beast with a light of understanding. They were all outcasts, but Growler and Willow, they had grown closer throughout the boy's shackled time within the care of the Holy.  One could perhaps draw the conclusion that the hairy beast found a sense of care, for those smaller and weaker. Despite a lack of words shared between the cursed human and the faltering link in evolution, their friendship had been forged throughout a year, and was reminiscent of a child's bedtime story. A vicious creature from within the dark depths of a forest came to befriend a boy cast out and shunned. Indeed, Growler had managed to aid Willow in silencing the voices, if ever so slightly. Had things been different, perhaps the two would have known a more comfortable happiness, one without chains at their ankles.  Of course, there were others present within the chapel, each and every presence offering an opposite sensation than that of the tree creature's embrace. A dark, desert night emanated from the ebony skinned man standing tall and proud a short distance from where Willow had planted his feet. A creature of death, indeed. Willow could sense the passing of life which had left the man's frame, drawing him an undead abomination. Though the boy was a herald of death itself, though the strangulation of life burned like a prism within his heart, there was a respectable caution present between the two. Willow did not know this man well enough to dot his motives, and it would be a fool's choice to trust one whom had lived through life, and returned in death, without a moment's thought.  This was however drowned out by the beauty which came to join this group of unholy abominations. Willow had not seen her, before. She was a new addition, for sure. What lurked beneath that porcelain skin? There was one truth which bubbled to the surface very quickly in that chapel. Nothing was, as it appeared to be. Nothing, at all. Beyond that beauty, Willow would not deny a darkness which waited to engulf the fair woman. It remained to be seen. Finally, the presence which brought Willow's heart into a pit within his chest. He had seen this figure before, known as Abel. Ironic, to be sure. Abel? The lamb of God? This [i]thing[/i] reeked of a presence comparable to hell, beyond a grave's cold confines. What was there to say about a presence which forced the boy's gaze in another direction, at a mere glance? There was something else there, as well. Midnight had warned Willow not to wander too close to this poisoned fruit, this forbidden nectar. If there was a presence darker than that of which Willow gazed upon, it resided within the shell he viewed. An evil as old as time, itself. The boy would be wise to count his steps, and remain a distance from this abominable mockery of the name Abel. Yes, Willow had managed to pick up a few things about the religion which whipped at his skin, on a daily count. Abel, the one outside of scripture, he fit into the story quite well.