[Rotting Us, who stare at the Moon..] {OC Backstory}

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"Because I, am the you who did."

The boy's eyes widened the moment the figure told him this, and he could suddenly feel faint. The figure's smile quickly shifted into a smirk, one with malicious intent. They'd leave with a rather grand ascent into the sky of black, the fire raging out of control. The boy then passed out, having taken the exhaustion of the heat was slowly becoming unbearable. The last thing he saw was his bloody wings.. And a cluster of shattered, glowing crystals.

The funny thing about it all.. Was that "Enjeru" even real?

[To be continued...]
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The figure thought for a moment. "See, the illness has reached your clueless chambers. Have you happened to hear why it exists here?" The figure replied, to which the boy shook his head. The figure let out a sigh. "Do you promise to never tell anyone, under any circumstance?" They'd ask, to which the boy gave them a hesitant nod.

"It was created by the one whose hands spread their own greed to others. They use that power to bring death and doom upon all here. [D3TCAD3R], that's their name. One day, those who want more will use the truth against you. Please, don't let yourself suc***b to that numb truth, that will one day be passed down to you.." They'd explain, then taking off their hood.

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"You," they began, "You must be another unfortunate one." They muttered, leaning down to him, sustaining a bow. The boy could not speak for the moment, as he was too afraid to even do so. The violence echo.ed around them, refusing to quell for the moment. The mysterious figure smiled gently at the boy for a moment, and then spoke to him again.

"They took from you like they took from me, kid." Those words alone seemed to pique the boy's interest. What did the figure mean by that? Who was this /they/, and what did they took? The figure would put their sycthe down, still smiling at the boy. The boy, with a taint of fear in his voice and expression; spoke at last.

"W-who... Who did?"

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But the boy felt like he couldn't move an inch anywhere without getting burned.

A figure descended from above, landing in front of the boy. They wore a large cloak, covering their face and most of their features. They had torn, black wings that were somehow still intact, and they had white gloves, as well. The figure held a large sycthe; large enough to be able to cut the boy in two with enough time and effort. The figure looked at the boy for a moment, as if they were determining something in their mind.

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Those fools so unaware... Poor mother and father, clinged to their beds. And yet, the boy didn't care about them anymore. At least, not now, when his gloomy reality was coming to life. He'd open his eyes again, to a near overdose of heat, and the sky, drenched in black.

He jumped up, mortified by what he was seeing now. The blanket, pillow, and carpet were all gone. The seige of violence was beginning to spread around him. There was fire; almost enough fire to make the boy pass out. But he couldn't smell the smoke coming from it; he could only feel the heat from it. The boy got up, trying to find some kind of exit. He was in his body now_ he had reclaimed his own mind.

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He'd close his eyes again. The fields that his mother would show him, the flowers... Her wings that spread out wide, protecting him from harm.. Her kindness, her gentle voice that soothed him as her hair danced in the wind.. She'd always say how she loved him and would protect him with all of her might.. How he was her everything and he would be loved by her and his father forever...But they could not save themselves.

The boy would never forget it; the fact that they couldn't. They were able to protect him, but not themselves... Pathetic little family that couldn't make this poor boy's last wishes come true.

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Was it rotting too, just like the boy and his family? Or was it embracing their rotting state itself? The boy laid motionless, staring at it without any emotion. He was beginning to stop thinking, but not thinking was normal. The boy closed his eyes for a moment, embracing his state of rotting with the moon. Just as he opened his eyes, the entire ceiling was now gone. The sky was beginning to fade to black. The boy ignored this, for now.

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Either way, the boy laid down on the carpet, placing the pillow under his head and covering himself with the blanket. His wings seemed to be resting now, almost adding to the warmth of the blanket he had covered himself in. His hair was a mess; and it was beginning to grow longer now. It was slightly annoying, but at least he wasn't suffering from heat exhaustion yet. The boy stared up at the sky, to that black moon.

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The nearby lantern shallowed a dim glow that illuminated the room; enough for the boy to see the small carpet of red near it. He'd make a search for a pillow; eventually finding a black one in his parents' bedroom. He'd take a red blanket with him, too, since he didn't have much reason to sleep without it. Now that he had payed more attention to the attic, he could see that the wooden floors were beginning to rot and decay. That wasn't a good sign.

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The boy wasn't weak and on the verge of fainting, at leastwise. His memories were clear as day, and his thoughts were clear enough for him to know what they were. He wasn't angry; instead, he felt a sense of... Indifference. Gloom, almost. The boy trotted through his home, opening a few doors to get to the attic. A hole was in the ceiling now; and it showed the moon. It was covered in the black substance now... That wasn't very normal, was it?

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