P art of Requiem's duties as Haihefa to the fledgling Mirovis pack were to keep the borders secure from all potential threats as well as scouting out nearby lands for the pack to begin expanding into. Lurid had already expressed an interest in expanding Mirovis' borders out from the Antiox and had left the decision in Requiem's paws as to where they should claim next. It was an important task, one that required equal parts brains and foresight. Wherever Mirovis expanded to needed to be a suitable location to support the growth of the empire. Not just any old land would suffice.

S o the crimson brute was out doing his scouting, sniffing about the lands to see what sort of predators and prey roamed the adjacent territories and determining which would be the most strategic for them to take over. His initial search began south in the Sparse Pines, the dire wolf weaving his way through the mess of pine trees as he inspected the territory. This place seemed to have all of the necessities to support the pack—food, water, shelter, even raw material in the form of wood they could utilize in crafting. As he wandered the land, Requiem came across a fresh set of tracks in the early spring snow. They were lupine in nature and large, easily the same size as his. Another dire wolf. But what truly intrigued him was the scent he picked up as he sniffed the tracks. It was a deep, rich scent of male, and one he recognized very, very well.

B rows raised in surprise and interest, a wicked grin slowly peeling its way across the brute's lips. "Well, well, well... What have we here?" Musing to himself with a dark chuckle, Requiem ran his tongue over his lips in eager anticipation for the interaction that was to come as he began to stalk after the tracks, hunting down the wolf that had made them.


"Requiem" | "Latin"

Alastor sat on the edge of the sparse pine forest, gazing out across the expanse of open tundra between himself and the beached vessel of the S.S. Antiox looming in the distance. The scent of Mirovis—the scent of Lurid—hung heavy in the air. It was a scent that he had been sure he would never smell again. Yet here it was, taunting him like the presence of a specter from his past haunting his present. Lurid was alive. More than that, Lurid was alive and she had accomplished everything she had ever wanted without him. Her reappearance had stirred things inside Alastor. He had loved her once, or so he had thought. They had been destined to be mates, betrothed and promised to one another. He was meant to be her king in her empire of blood. And then she had just... disappeared. How was he not supposed to feel conflicted over that? To see one's ex again after you were sure she was dead was one thing, but to see her thriving and living her dreams in spite of you... replacing you with another...

Alastor's cold gaze lingered on the ship, a myriad of questions racing through his mind. Was she in there right now? Had she ever thought of him? Did she even try to get back to him and Kichi? Did she regret all the time that they'd lost? Or were they simply pawns in her game to get her to where she had always wanted to be? Alastor's hardened gemstone claws raked at the hard earth beneath his paws as a frustration and anger simmered inside his blackened heart. So many questions, and answers he would never receive. It was the worst kind of torment. He did not regret his life with Manea, not a single second of it and she had been the best thing to ever happen to him, but faced with the ghosts of his past, how was he supposed to process any of this or face his demons?

For a moment, Alastor considered approaching the borders and calling for the pale demoness to ask her face to face why things had worked out this way, to see if she regretted any of it at all. Only reluctance to face that part of himself again stayed his paw, kept him lingering in the shadows at the edge of the two worlds he had once existed in. His past and present, and him caught in stasis in between them.

"Alastor Mendacium"