Alastor was a grandfather! And honest to god full-fledged grandfather now! Yes, he had treated Ikigai's children as if they were his grandkids, and that wasn't going to change now, but now there were three little wolf nuggets running around Elysium that actually shared his blood! This moment had seemed like an impossible fantasy to the demon wolf only a few short years ago, and now thanks to Manea, thanks to his fortune, and thanks to the Ancients, he had attained the impossible. The fantasy made a reality. And oh boy, was Alastor devouring every opportunity he got to be with the little munchkins! Whenever he wasn't playing advisor to Avacyn, the giant fluffy behemoth of a brute was spending time play fighting with Daemon and Thyrus or letting Fever teach him about the things she'd learned that day, always acting shocked and enthused to learn whatever she had. The sweet innocence of puppies was something Alastor held sacred, and he cherished every moment he got to revel in their sweetness with them.

Today, Alastor was tasked with babysitting duties for Fever. While Avacyn and Manea tended to some diplomatic affairs, Saracyn had taken the boys out for a fighting lesson, leaving the elder brute to bond with his sole granddaughter—and he couldn't be happier! Alastor arrived at the family's den just as Saracyn and the boys were heading out, a small basket of assorted fruits held in his jaw. He wanted to share a little treat with his sweet princess, and after exchanging a hello/goodbye with Sara, Alastor trudged into the den and set the basket down in the common space. "Hmmm, I was promised a day with the smartest, prettiest princess in the world today. I wonder where she could be?" he called out into the den, a playful smile on his muzzle while he waited for Fever to show herself.

"Alastor Mendacium"

The sweetest little giggle was stifled by tiny nimble paws as Fever grandfather searched for her. The tiny girl hid beneath the edge of a big, oiled fur that hung over the stone table within the den. He'd never, ever find her here! She was a master of hiding. Pretty much invisible. If she couldn't see him, he couldn't see her! Child logic. Alastor's shadow touched her dark little toes and the delicious anticipation of being found brought a squeak squeezing up her throat. Fever tried to place her paws more tightly over her mouth, but she was too close to involuntary laughter to keep it all in. Anticipation of a jump scare thrummed through the girl but then... what if she scared him first? Genius. She knew she was a genius. As one furry, obsidian foreleg came into view beneath the skin tablecloth, Fever wiggled her little rump and leaped out of her hiding spot with a big rawr. The girl wrapped her forelegs around her grandfather's front leg and gave him a bite for good measure. She was a monster, after all. It likely wouldn't hurt since she'd just ended up with a mouth full of fur, but she was pleased with herself. Still hanging onto his leg, the tiny girl looked up at the dire brute with huge gold and black eyes. "Did I scare you, Papa?" "Speech"

A soft little girly giggle from somewhere in the room made Alastor's ear flick in the direction of the sound, the master hunter's sharp senses honing in on his granddaughter's location almost immediately. Dark eyes locked on the stone table and the oiled fur that acted as a tablecloth, a playful grin slowly peeling across his muzzle. Oh, so it was hide and seek time, was it? Rather than go right for her, Alastor slowly prowled around the den, making a big dramatic show of sniffling loudly about trying to find her, starting on the opposite end of the room and leisurely making his way towards the table. "Hmmm, I wonder where little Fe could be?" he mused aloud, his claws click-click-clicking on the cave floor with each heavy step. "Could she beeee... in here!" Alastor dipped his head into Avacyn's workshop, pausing for a moment for dramatic effect with a wide toothy smile on his face before continuing around.

He moved over to some pillows and furs stacked up against the wall and paused by them, giving more loud sniffs at them. "Could she beeee... in here!" Alastor gave a triumphant laugh as he pulled the pile apart, finding no Fever, as he expected, but giving an exaggerated groan of disappointment all the same. "No?! How could this be?!" Doing all he could to stifle a chuckle, Alastor prowled over to the table then, pausing with his paws right at the edge of the tablecloth fur. His smile was almost painfully wide by now, dark eyes shining with mirth as he reached for the edge of the fur. "Could she beeee..." But before he could finish, his little granddaughter came bursting out from underneath the table with a playful growl. Alastor let out a dramatized wail of shock and fear as she latched onto his foreleg, tiny teeth barely feeling more than pinpricks against his thick skin and fur.

"Oh no, she's got me! I'll never get free! This is the end! My end!" Alastor cried out as she nibbled and gnawed at his foreleg, clinging onto his giant paw. While she hung on, Al scooped the girl up in his paws and flopped onto his back, depositing the pup on his broad chest with his ankle still in her jaws while he made a big show of collapsing to the ground with a guttural groan and feigned death throes, complete with eyes closing and tongue hanging from his mouth. When Fever did finally let go of his leg and asked if she'd scared him, Alastor miraculously returned to life and lifted his head, beaming at his granddaughter perched atop him as he ruffled the fluffy puppy fur on her head, digits dancing between the little nubs of horns growing on her crown. "Why you scared me so good, my little princess! I had no idea where you could be!" Sweet little fibs to inspire the growth and confidence of a child. Play was an important part of learning and growing for a pup. This reminded him so much of years gone by, when he got to play with his own children this way.

"Alastor Mendacium"

She got him! She got him good! Her papa screamed in terror and fell to the ground, taking her with him. Fever shrieked with laughter, her little tail going a million miles a minute as she lay on his big chest. Her grandpa went suspiciously silent and Fe's eyes narrowed. She crept forward to get a closer look and he chose then to pop back to life and answer her. Another giggle erupted from the girl and she deposited little puppy kisses on her grandpa's nose. Alastor admitted that she scared him and Fever was so very proud of herself. The tiny girl beamed and nodded. "I'm the best at hide and seek." Probably not true, but no one had told her otherwise, so how was she to know, eh? Fever hopped down from her perch, ran a little circle around her grandpa, and made a beeline towards the doorway of the den. "Let's go, let's go, let's go, Papa!" Everyone else was out doing things and she wanted to go do things too! As soon as Alastor got to his paws and picked up the basket, Fever was out the door and careening down the path. She didn't stop until she reached the bottom where the land opened up into a nice grassy field with a bunch of pines. The girl waited for her grandpa to catch up and she looked about in the process. Just as Alastor came to the bottom of the path and stood beside her, Fever lifted her paw and waved towards one of her many friends. To Alastor, no one would be there, but to Fever, a black and red wolf stood there, waving back with a grin on his face. He motioned for Fever to speak and the girl looked up at her grandpa, all wide eyed and innocent. "Moros says he's proud of you for how you got your revenge, Papa. He won't tell me what that means though." She gave her head a little tilt, as though silently asking him what it meant instead. "Speech"

Alastor was so enamored with his grandchildren, but few more so than little Fever. She was a bubbly ball of energy that brought out a youthful life in the elder dire brute that only special puppies could. Seeing her play and learn was a true delight to the Mendacium wolf, and as she ran a circle around him, Alastor slowly got to his paws so he could continue to play with her. Fever sprinted for the den entrance so they could begin their little picnic outside, shouting for him to hurry up. "Okay, okay, I'm coming!" he called after her, plodding behind at his own pace back out into the lovely autumn sunshine with the basket of fruit clutched in his jaws.

Following his granddaughter down to the clearing down the way from the family's den, Al smiled around the basket handle in his mouth. But when he drew nearer to her, Alastor saw the little girl look off into space and wave her paw like she was beckoning to someone. That got a curious tilt of his head as he followed Fever's gaze out to nothingness. "What are you looking at, Fe?" he asked her while he set the basket down and began to unpack it for them, laying the fresh fruits out on a patchwork blanket that had been overing their treats.

"Moros says he's proud of you for how you got your revenge, Papa. He won't tell me what that means though."

Fever's words caused Alastor to freeze in place, his paw jerking back and knocking the basket over, spilling the fruits across the blanket. His eyes shrank to pinpricks, the fur on the back of his neck standing on end as a cold chill ran down his spine. His muscles quivered, tense like an electric shock had run through him. The signature grin on his face contorted, shifting into something deranged and unnatural as he looked up at his granddaughter, an almost feral panic in his dark eyes. "What did you say...?" he asked Fever in cold, carefully measured tones, his heart beginning to thud against his ribcage as flashes of a past stained in blood flashed in his mind. "Fever, where did you hear that name?"

"Alastor Mendacium"

Fever didn't even realize how upset Alastor had gotten at her words. She only noticed that her silly grandpa had knocked the basket over. Like a good little girl, Fe began collecting the rolling berries and putting them back where they belonged. It was only when Alastor spoke, questioning her about where she'd heard the name that she stopped picking up berries and actually looked at him. Where? "He told me," one dark paw motioned towards the line of pines. A black and red figure had been standing there prior, but it seemed as though he'd gone off. "Oh, he's gone now," the girl spoke as though it was the most natural occurrence in the world. "He tells me stories sometimes but only when I'm down here. He doesn't go up the mountain. Is he in trouble?" Fever gave her head a little tilt, big eyes just as questioning as her tone. "Sometimes he calls me uh..." Her head tilted in the opposite direction, "an abomilnation. Ablomnitation. And he says my brothers and I are monsters. Bomma... nations." Fever didn't know what that meant, but being called a monster was fun. She was pretty scary, after all. "Speech"

Fever seemed entirely unfazed by her grandsire's sudden shift in mood, contenting herself to picking up the fruit he'd spilled out of the picnic basket during his outburst. Such a good girl she was, speaking such horrific and awful things. Fever answered his question as nonchalantly as if Alastor had asked her how her day had been, replying that Moros himself had told her. She then pointed to a space of empty air nearby, earning her a perplexed head tilt from Alastor. What on earth was she talking about? Fe continued on, explaining that Moros was telling her stories but only whenever she was down in the woods and that he didn't go up into the mountains. Alastor's blood turned to ice in his veins. Of course he wouldn't go up into the mountains... That's where Alastor had killed him almost a decade ago.

Alastor stared at the empty space where Fe had said Moros had been just moments ago, but was gone now. When she started to tell him how his deceased sire called them abominations and monsters, Alastor's fur began to bristle. That certainly sounded like his father... Once upon a time, Al would have written off Fever's commentary as childish nonsense, but he had seen enough of the paranormal in his lifetime to know there was more to this world than meets the eye. "Yes, he is in trouble, darling. He will always be in trouble with me," Alastor answered the young girl's question, keeping his voice calm and level, but there was no denying the deadly edge to his words. Dark eyes turned back to the pup and his expression softened as his gaze met her soft, innocent eyes. Gods, he loved puppies!

Bringing himself back down to his belly so he could be eye level with Fever, Alastor reached a giant paw over to gently ruffle his granddaughter's forehead. "What else does Papa Moros talk to you about, little firefly? What kinds of stories does he tell you?" There was a grim and anxious concern to Alastor's voice. If the specter of his sire was truly haunting his family, what sorts of wretched things was he telling them behind his back...?

"Alastor Mendacium"

Papa called her his little firefly and Fever giggled softly. She liked that nickname and gave a few blinks of her fancy eye in response. He seemed curious about Grandpa Moros so, after righting all of the fruit, Fe went and seated herself between his paws just like she did with her other grandpa. "I like stories, so he tells me lots of them. Uh.." the girl tilted her head slightly as she thought back on the tales that Moros had shared. "Heeeeee told me about grandma Rhea and about Morovis. About how hard it was to live there and everyone had to be strong."

Fever wished that she could show her Papa everything in dreams like she could to Grandpa Moros. "He showed me what you were like when you were young. He said you were his...crown... That he was really proud of you." Fever had thought that was a really nice thing to say. "He said that I come from a long line of super strong, smart wolves and that was why I was able to bring him back from the dead." The girl beamed, completely proud of her talents. Talents that she didn't realize others didn't quite possess.

"Fever Mendacium"

The more Fever spoke, the more Alastor felt the fury in his blood bubble and rise. The great dire brute did his best to keep his emotions concealed behind a carefully crafted mask as his granddaughter gleefully explained how Moros was telling her stories, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out how. He was aware of the afterlife and Somnium—he had seen Relm there since her death—but in all the years since Moros had been slain, the bastard had never dared to show his face to Alastor or any of his descendants. He had thought his psychopathic sire gone for good, burning in the pits of hell far, far away. Apparently he had simply been biding his time.

Fever went on to mention some of the things Moros had told her about. About Rhea, his mother, and of Mirovis. Alastor's jaw clenched, his teeth gnashing together behind tightly closed lips. His sharp gemstone claws flexed and dug into the dirt while he listened to Fever speak. "Is that so?" Al asked, still feigning interest while he began to get out some of the fruit for their picnic and laying it out for them to snack on. He didn't want to ruin their day together because of this revelation. But when Fever mentioned Moros showing her himself when he was young and how proud Moros had been of him, Alastor's facade as nearly shattered. His claws raked deep into the dirt, a tremor of rage shuddering through his body. His fur bristled and he barely managed to choke down a snarl to recompose himself. "Did he now? That's... very kind of him." Fuck he hated the bastard...!

At least the next part Alastor didn't have to fake. When Fever proudly told him that Moros had said she was part of a line of highly strong and intelligent wolves, Alastor smiled to the pup and nodded emphatically. "And he's right! You are part of the strongest, smartest, and most talented family of wolves the world has ever seen, little firefly! And we are all so very, very proud of you and love you so very, very much." Reaching a giant paw around the small girl to pull her closer, Alastor planted a long, affectionate lick across his granddaughter's forehead, then nuzzled his snout against her face with a playful chuckle. But there was a deeper concern lingering in Alastor's heart—that of his psychotic sire. "When do you see Moros, Fe? And... does he... ever do anything to... hurt or upset you?" Alastor knew what kind of brute Moros was. He knew what he had done to his own daughters. To think that the degenerate monster was spending time with his innocent grandchild was disturbing.

"Alastor Mendacium"