Story
Vixemourne is finely attuned to the subtlest emotions. A lone bird adrift, the waxing and waning of the moon, and any fleeting glimpse of the world may ripple through its heart. Known to humans as an Anima often in mourning, Vixemourne itself seldom knows where the sorrow begins. Sadness spreads like nightfall, slow and inevitable, seeping through the heart. What Vixemourne cannot admit, however, is that joy does visit it, yet joy it must disguise, for it adores the aura of mystery that sorrow lends it. This, in truth, is Vixemourne's lingering trouble.
