After talking to Satira, and hearing the worrying news of Asla’s unhappiness, he couldn't let the thought drop. He had played with her until she was exhausted, and left her safe and sleeping, before trotting off in search of his oldest daughter.

Raising his head, the Warlord let out a soft howl, calling Asla to him, even as he finished moving towards the pack's bonfire. He settled down on his hunches next to the warm flames, and waited for Asla to appear. Thinking as he did of all she had done for him, and how he wanted nothing more than to be there for her.


"Speech"

Sleep was at war with Aslatiel. She didn't do much of it these days. The children were with family. She had been letting the wolves of the Armada get as much of her pups as they wished since they would eventually be leaving. As such, Asla was alone for the night. A rarity. She almost left to spend the evening with Ocean and Chrystelle, but something told her to stay. As she rested outside of her den, absorbing the cool autumn air, she heard the call of her father. Asla sighed and rubbed her face with one paw. She then pushed to her paws and made her way towards the bonfire that she could see far off in the distance. Sirius waited beside the fire. Satira was nowhere to be seen, but that was as it should be. Asla was a stickler for bedtime. Children needed their rest. "You called?" Aslatiel continued to stand, the flames illuminating her fawn and white pelt. "Aslatiel"

Sirius, seeing the tired face of his daughter, wondered if she was turning into something of an insomniac like her old man. The Warlord hadn’t even realised how much of the day had passed by, until he saw the light of the firepit, dancing sharp contrast to the world beyond. Asla’s tawny coat reflected the light well, and her purple eyes seemed to burn in the light of it.

“Asla” He said gently, nodding his head towards his daughter. “I wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing” he explained. To see how she was taking in Motherhood, and why… why her children sometimes woke up to her crying. The idea of Asla upset churned sour in his gut. He would do much to see her happy.

"Speech"

Rolling her shoulders, the young woman sat, striped tail curling around one hip. The warmth of the fire poured into her and she appreciated it, having not realized just how chilled she was beforehand. Sitting across from Sirius, Asla felt like a stranger. So much had happened. Heavy events that had changed her. She was no longer the same wolf that she had once been. Things were different now. She was different. Sirius asked how she was doing and her initial reaction was to say that she was fine, so she did. "I'm fine." Her tones were convincing, but the chill in her celestial gaze and the emotionless abyss behind them spoke otherwise. "Aslatiel"

He studied Asla for a moment, her words a soft lie on his ears. A lie that he could not simply leave between them. He was worried about Asla, about what was going through the heart of a wolf that cried quietly in the night.

“Asla, my love” he said softly, wondering the best way to approach this. The Warlord had never been good with words, but he tried anyway, for his children. “Satira spoke to me, concerned, but in the way of a child. How you’ve been crying in the night. I won’t push you, but I am here for you. If you need someone to speak to, or even an outlet. If you need to punch something, I’ve always made a good bean bag” he offered her a partial smile, inviting her to speak, take a punch, to do anything she needed to.

"Speech"

At her father's words, Aslatiel bristled, the thicker fur of her ruff lifting. She wasn't angry at Satira. Not in the slightest. She tried so, so hard to keep her negative emotions away from her children. Sometimes at night, she did cry. She cried for time and relationships lost. She cried from the loneliness that ached within her chest like a chasm. She cried because she simply couldn't help herself. It was better to cry at night while the children slept so that she could be whole and happy during the day. "I'm fine," she stated again. "No one needs to worry about me. I handle my own." And she did. Aslatiel relied on no one and the older she got, the more true that became. Not her father. Not Indigo. No one. Even if she did open up, Sirius wouldn't be able to understand her feelings. Not when he'd crushed them when she and Indigo were children. "Talk about something else." She didn't want to talk about emotions, so she wouldn't. The joys of being an adult. You didn't have to obey your parents anymore. "Aslatiel"

He continued to watch Asla, remembering the days when she had been tiny and energetic, chasing foxes out of the chicken house when she was tiny enough to be squashed by them. Or bouncing on his stomach like a playground and laughing about the stars. He hated how time robbed him of their innocence, those little joys. Not that he would give up Satira and Arc for the world, but he wished to see Asla smile again…

“You are my daughter, and I will always worry about you, but - as you wish.” he agreed softly. Looking back at the roaring flames for a long moment. “I didn’t realise it was so late, did I wake you?”

"Speech"

Sirius agreed to change the subject and for that, Asla was thankful. He had to remind her that she was his daughter, however. As though she could forget. The young fae stared into the undulating flames. The fire was growing smaller and smaller as the flames consumed their wooden fuel. It was easier to look at the fire than to look at her father. He was obviously concerned, but she couldn't and wouldn't talk emotions. She just wouldn't. Worried that he may have woken her with his summons, Aslatiel gave her head a shake. "I don't sleep well on a good day, but I sleep even worse when the pups aren't with me." The worries of a mother, of course. "Satira was good today, I expect." Asla had no doubts that Tira had been anything but perfect. Both of her children were incredibly well behaved. "Aslatiel"

The Warlord nodded his head in understanding to that. Remembering what it felt like to be surrounded by his children. It had always made the world feel just that little bit better. As for her insomniac - all he could do for her it seemed was leave it be. She didn’t wish to talk about it.

“She was an absolute angel, all full of energy and curiosity” he agreed, and tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Racing about the Armada with her on his back must feel like riding a mountain for her. She had wide eyes, and very kissable cheeks. Sirius was finding that he rather liked being a Grandfather. Even if it did make him feel old.

"Speech"

Sirius praised Satira and her good behavior. Of course she had been good. Aslatiel would expect nothing less. She was a kind, loving mother, but she also had high expectations of her children and they knew it. It wasn't often that they made their mother cross and when they did, they were reprimanded swiftly and firmly. She made sure that they understood why they were being punished as well. Arcturus and Satira weren't stupid. Silence stretched on between them. The fire continued to burn low and eventually Asla slid down to lay upon her stomach, curling her paws against her chest much like a cat. She hadn't planned on sleeping anyway, so she would wait here until she was certain that Sirius had nothing left to say. "Aslatiel"