Pleasure to be meeting you; quite a pleasure!

Alastor had noticed Mariah attempting to slip out of Elysium lands every now and then for extended periods of time, never saying where she was going and always coming back looking both elated and wistful at the same time. With only one way on or off of the island, it didn't take much detective work for the former Commander to notice the pattern in her movements, watching from the shadows as she went about her life. Mariah was of course an adult now and free to act as she pleased, but the sire could not deny he felt an excessive protectiveness around his youngest litter. Their afflictions were never something he regarded as a disability in them, but as something he needed to ensure the cruel world did not try to beat them down with or take advantage of. Because of that, and because he honestly felt like he'd failed them as a father for giving them their conditions, Alastor felt compelled to keep them safe. Mariah's secret little field trips challenged that compulsion.

But Alastor did not confront his daughter directly. Oh no, that would've made far too much sense and been a rational, healthy way to address his concerns! Instead, Alastor simply tracked his daughter's comings and goings, then utilized his raven to see which direction she headed in when she hit the mainland. After establishing her patterns of movement, he brought his tracking skills into play, following shortly after her to pursue her scent across the lands. Mariah was no hunter, so she would have no reason to consider things like masking her trail or covering her tracks, and it showed. Eventually he was able to track her down to some tunnels that ran beneath Mount Volkan, but that still didn't give him the answers he sought. What was she doing all the way out here underneath an active volcano?

With even more questions than answers, Alastor decided to stake out the tunnels. He returned to Alias to grab a white blanket of sheep wool and then found a cozy little spot downwind of the tunnel entrance. He settled into the brush beneath one of the many cherry blossom trees, pulling the blanket over himself to hide his ebony fur so he could watch and wait to see what she was looking for—or who she was looking for. The snowy foliage and the blanket helped camouflage his dark form which otherwise would have stood out against the bright white snow like an inkblot on a sheet. Thankfully, Alastor's hunter skills had been honed and adapted from almost a decade of training and sharpening. Dark eyes remained locked on the tunnel entrance, his breathing slow and shallow to minimize how much steam rose from his mouth in the cold winter air. Now he just had to play the waiting game...


"Alastor"