Not following these rules could lead to corruption. Those were were tainted became demons. Where the holy ones helped the souls of those who had already passed on sleep more sound and deep, the corrupted forced the souls to awake and inhabit their bodies. When a breath was a demon, it could corrupt others nearby. Most of the rules they lived by was mainly to keep them separate from the lives of the living so as to not let their hearts become attached. When one becomes attached to a living person, it was easier to fall into rage or anger. Those emotions could eek into violence. It was the act of being violent without a summoners magic within them that was the corrupting force. It didn't matter if the action did or didn't kill, only that there was purposeful intent and want to do harm. It wasn't that they couldn't slap someone, only that whatever they do can't be with the want or intent to do harm. It was the want and intent to do harm that acted as a corrupting force. Wind hadn't actually broken any of the unspoken rules, but he had bent a few of them to their limits. The spirit would be lying if he tried to say that he wasn't attacked to Haraka. William or other living? Not so much, not really. But Haraka? Well that was where some of those rules had been bent. The childs adoptive father had been winds summoner, but more than that. That man had been as like a soul brother to him, they had made vows of brotherhood, bonded as brothers, and had been as close as one could be with anyone.
The youth with the cracked and frail soul became precious because he didn't cry. Young and old, sick and healthy, all babies were typically terrified when his presence approached. The black haired person was the first and only time Wind had ever held such a fresh life without seeing any fear at the beginning. It was his first time experiencing a curious infant, and since then he has wanted to protect that young and at times stupid life. A person who was far too quick to point at their own person as the cause of any and all issues in their own life and the one who must find a solution. Nobody is an island, but he knew where that sort of attitude came from. He could and would not forgive those who should have shown affection but only taught fear. But in any case, Haraka fell under being family, dear family. This was the only reason that wind hadn't been punished for giving his blood to a living person not of death. There would be lasting consequences, because that soul would never fully heal. No matter how much he improves, it will always be a soul that had a twin but was forcefully cut apart by outside forces. Wind was not a historian, so he knew only what the damage told. The creature didn't know what past life it was from, only that it was clear a past life existed. In any case this breath of death was the morning breath, his true form having dragonfly wings. This wasn't something he was showing at this moment, nor the beautiful clothes it came with. Right now he was small, looked child like, bare footed, clothes in rags, pale white skin, and eyes fully coated in a pure pitch black.
William held onto one of Winds hands, both making their way towards a certain mixed blood who had just finished his own work. Deep sapphire blue eyes looked towards them, lips curving into a smile. Ideas were swimming in the mind of Omaras. "Good morning!" Hands reached out, the red headed child letting go of the spirit to run over. It wasn't really any effort to scoop the tiny one up and put them on one of his shoulders. "Why don't we all go for a nature hike today? I haven't gone on one for a long time." He also knew the tot was likely still upset at him for not taking the clam on every deadly job or area the mixed blood got. He could feel a small hand tug quietly at his shirt, the sign of a quiet yes. "Alright then, let's go. It would be fun if more people came along, but everyone else is probably busy." It would be nice.