Signs of Life

Life had been... difficult for Alastor lately. The loss of their grandchildren and his children's first babies, Relm's suicide, it was a lot to come crashing down on the brute's fragile psyche all at once. He was surviving, getting better with every day, and Manea was helping him through it so he didn't completely lose himself. He no longer felt the pull of depression or self-loathing the way he had some months ago, and he no longer felt those suicidal urges, all thanks to his mate. The pair of wolves were lounged out around the Firefly Lake for a midday nap when the call of their daughter from across the channel perked Alastor's ears up. Avacyn was calling a pack meeting. Grumbling in a half-awake sleepy daze, Alastor slowly peeked his eyes open to see Manea lifting her head off of his legs and urging him up with an affectionate nudge of her nose to his cheek.

"Nooooo... Five more minutes..." the ebony brute playfully griped as he yawned and stretched out his legs, getting up at his own pace. Although he wasn't a senior wolf yet, Alastor was beginning to feel the effects of age on his body. His joints popped with a groan, and there were strands of silvery fur beginning to pop up in his jet black coat, notably around his chin and jaw almost like a beard. Once up, he shook out his flowing coat and followed Manea back across the bridge to join the group gathering at the lake. He followed Manea as she went to go sit beside her niece, Alastor lying down on his belly while he waited for the rest of their family to show up. Saracyn, Mariah, and Malico were still absent. Quietly, the dire brute settled in to be a passive observer, watching everyone and everything with keen, sharp eyes.

"Manea & Alastor Mendacium"