sometime last night - open; trespassing joiners

WOKE UP ON THE WRONG SIDE OF REALITY
AND THERE'S A MADNESS THAT'S COURSING IN ME

Well, it seemed the Pitt hadn't exactly worked out for them. There could be many reasons why given their long and extensive history. One could be how it brought back a plethora of negative and sometimes even stressful memories. Their lives had not been the greatest when it came to deserts. They were called murders and a few other unsavory things by people who never really mattered to begin with. They were rule twisters and chose often to look the other way when the same things they preached against was committed right in front of their faces. Hypocrits. So needless to say the desert just wasn't going to cut it and instead they had left in the middle of the night. Not like anyone would miss them. After all they had not gotten to know anyone there. Vague names and titles swirling around. So they had simply departed with a more eagerness to explore this odd realm they found themselves living in.

The archangel had decided to walk this time and honestly it would save his back a lot of grief later on. Passing travelers they managed to get directions from and he simply idly chit chatted with his husband. Four wings shifted against his back as he allowed a deep breath to swell his chest and then he release it. "You know what's good about this? Being able to walk around and not constantly be harrassed." Humor laced his tone as the angelhound stepped across a small stream that was in his path. He waited for Mulder on the other side as thick forested shifted to swampland. It was interesting that much was certain and he tilted his head a bit. Gazing over the mangrove trees he would lift a paw, wondering where the most solid ground was. "If you want to climb up Mulder, you can." He indicated to his back with a light movement of white and gold feathered wings before he glances to the marshes again.

Well he could say he never lived in a swamp before. At least not on that was so bogged down with water. His nose twitched and the pale canine moved forward, picking his way through the mud and hopefully with his husband in tow on his back. "You know there could be gators here? Anyway that guy said that a group named Tanglewood lives here. I wonder if anyone gets trench foot from staying in the water for too long. I'm sure they have to live somewhere actually dry."

— Reggan