Aloyisius sat as he always had on the bed in his room each morning. Desiree lay beside him as he stared into the darkness of the room. Each day had passed the same as before, it would begin with him teaching students at the university and then conclude with his duties for the Negaverse. It had been nearly a decade since this cycle had begun, and even though many years had passed, even now new and old ghosts had not been forgotten by time.

With a gentle touch, he took the flute out from beneath his pillow and traced his fingers over the tattered edge of its dangling feathers, remembering the general to who he had opened up about things. What a terrible fate that man had met and even now Aloyius could not fully wipe the man's tattered and corrupted appearance completely from his mind. He had preferred a safer and more discreet route in his time at the Negaverse, still aiding in combat when needed but preferring to use diplomacy and charm instead of his bow. Sometimes that was not an option but he still tried to keep people from meeting the sharp end of his arrows.

With a slight groan, he heaved himself up from the bed and grabbed his glasses. Long and flowing hair trailed down his back as he shuffled to the bathroom to begin the process of making himself look like a functioning member of society. Pale scars covered his whole body at this point after all the fights he had gotten in during his early days in the Negaverse but they no longer pained him. Looking in the mirror still hurt him though, his once sparking eyes full of life had grown duller with each passing and disappearance of those he had grown close to. Bischofite, Ochre, Leda, and Natron, all the ones he had bared his wounds and heart to had vanished leaving him to scream his pain into the abyss.

After brushing the tangles out of his hair and washing his face, he took a shot of liquor from his hidden spot under the sink. The taste was terrible but it helped his mental pain flow dimly to the background again. Getting dressed in his teaching attire was the same efficient and mechanical routine he had gotten used to over the 5 years he had been teaching music. With that done he stepped through the dusty place he called home and out into the rainy streets. Being rained on no longer bothered him as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The taste was always acrid as always, the same type an old friend had been used to. Even now he didn't remember why he still smoked, the nicotine did nothing for him. Maybe it was to be close to that person from way back when, or something to keep his mouth from screaming out at the unfairness of the hand life had dealt him. As he walked towards the university he left a trail of smoke in his path.