His madness had waned just enough for him to figure out where he was. He had no true destination in mind, but he had managed to at least get his mind clear just enough to be able to think more on the plan he had conjured up before becoming sick with whatever this oozy sickness was. Blue ooze continued to spill from his orifices. His eyes, nose, and especially from his mouth where it was thicker and often threatened to choke him. He coughed here and there, but for some reason, the cold air of the north helped to slow down the ooze. He walked along the side of the wall, using it as both a shield against the cold wind and to help keep him on his path. Every so often he shook his head, splattering blue ooze onto the wall and snow beside him. His companions followed him; one flying above and the other trailing behind him. He hadn't seen his kids since before all of this madness began...and he wondered how they were doing. "Speech"

D i m o s t h e n e s It was a better day for the sickness today. At least, Dime thought that it was. He hadn't seen anyone in a while, and that was making him feel awful, but he could remember more of what he'd seen, and the voices were a little easier to ignore. Maybe he was just getting used to them. That was a worrying thought. He didn't want to eventually heal from the plague and end up missing it. He hadn't hurt anybody yet, but the voices kept prodding at him to keep moving and find other wolves. They wanted him to hurt. That made it even worse that he thought that he might end up missing them. Did he like imagining attacking innocent wolves, or was it just the sickness addling his mind? He knew he was a selfish, self-centered brute, but he'd never before thought of himself as a murderer. "Please, stop," he pleaded with the voices. He wanted them gone. And yet... "Speech"

"Talk" Walk Eyes dripped with ooze, and Ignis found himself subconsciously whispering to himself. It was incoherent to anyone else but him, but it still worried his companions as they looked on with uncertainty. The crimson male stalked along the wall, muttering and shaking his head every other step as the ooze accumulated. But then he suddenly stopped, standing stock still as he listened. "Please, stop," Head lifted slowly, tail twitching as he spotted a much smaller, tan-colored male with dark markings under vibrant green eyes. Was the smaller male talking to him? His lip curled and the beginnings of a snarl could be heard, but then he stopped when the palm cockatoo landed on his back to distract him. "He ain't talkin' t' you...I think he's hearin' voices, too eh?" Ignis looked toward the stranger again, studying him for a moment as he realized the small male appeared to be infected as well. Such a shame...he'd been able to handle the voices for the most part, but others seemed to struggle with them. How strong of mind was this male? He was curious... Approaching the smaller stranger, Ignis stopped in front of him and eyed him with a deadpan look. "Fun, aren't they? These voices say all manner of things...but are you strong enough to ignore them? Or do they force you to listen?" His curiosity was piqued, of course. The voices always seemed to have interesting things to say, and he often wasn't opposed to doing their bidding.

D i m o s t h e n e s A red-furred man approached Dimosthenes, asking him about the voices. A snarl escaped before he could stop it. Was this guy implying that he thought Dime was weak? That made the voices angry, but he couldn't even let himself imagine indulging the shared rage that seemed to burn so hotly under his skin. He took a deep breath instead. "I haven't done anything they've told me to." His voice came out more defensive than he'd wanted. He hadn't killed anybody, no, but he'd thought about it, hadn't he. A lot. Did that make him a bad person? Surely a good wolf wouldn't want to kill anyone even if it saved them from pain. Selfish. That's what he was. And maybe he was weak, too, for not being able to ignore the voices. He looked back at the man and held back the voices' screams of murder and blood, instead forcing out strained words. "What about you?" "Speech"