[color=ed1c24][h3]Angel Ferrara[/h3]

"I've never had anyone else. Dad died when I was six," [/color]the pretty boy said quietly. [color=ed1c24]"Rest of my life, it was the monsters and me."[/color]

Not that there was anything wrong with forest living. It had taught him a degree of self-reliance and improvisation on his feet that he would have never gotten growing up in a place like Fiore. It had taught him what was worth attaching yourself to and what was worth letting go. It had taught him how useless it was to cry over things like cold in the middle of the night, and how to grit your teeth and bear it without screaming after the sixth or seventh time in your life you find yourself being mauled in the same fashion. 

But there were things every child knew that Angel would never, ever discover. And even after five years removed from Boundary Forest, people like Cyare constantly made him realize how little he belonged outside of it.

[color=ed1c24]"She bears with me a lot."[/color]