[Every moment he spends out in the open is a moment his natural paranoia is amplified; the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and his mantis wings vibrate and flutter nervously as if sensing something on the oddly stagnant breeze that his human mind can't quite identify.

The sky darkens to a deeper shade of alarming crimson, and he knows down to his marrow that he does not want to be out in this.

The door jumps out at him; the stark outline is impossible to miss, especially when it's surrounded by entrances that just don't look real. He hurries toward it, heart pounding, slipping inside while drawing as little attention to himself as is possible.]