The hardest learned lessons

Scylla reassured him that she was totally fine, and were he any other wolf, Alastor might have believed her. Alastor was decidedly not any other wolf though. Her dour seriousness with how she was responding to him, that mask of a smile with too much teeth and too little sincerity in her mismatched eyes. Part of being a father was knowing when your children weren't telling you the whole truth, and right now, Alastor's daddy senses were tingling. Despite how much Scylla repeated herself trying to convince him that she was fine, he could feel her pain. He could see her being strong for herself because he had been in her position before.

The slate and cream fae apologized that he'd come after her for nothing, but Alastor refuted that with a shake of his head. "Making sure someone important to you is safe and sound is never 'nothing', dear Scylla," he gently corrected her, remaining seated calmly where he was while he watched her with obsidian eyes like a hawk, never venturing from her. "I had to make myself 'fine' to survive as long as I have too. I understand." Alastor was quiet for a moment, just studying Scylla. It was heartbreaking and sardonically amusing to think of how she could have been his daughter too if Saracyn hadn't strayed from their planned paths.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he spoke up after a stretch of silence. He knew Scylla would understand what he meant. "Life just likes to be cruel to us sometimes." Alastor lifted a giant paw to trace his digits across the deep scar over his left eye—his token for risking his life to save his once-betrothed. He wouldn't ask if she wanted to talk about what was on her heart; if Scylla wanted to vent to him, she knew she could. If she needed to let her frustrations out on him and bite and claw, she could as well. But Alastor didn't stand, and he made it obvious that he wasn't going anywhere yet. Not until he was sure Scylla was actually going to be more than 'fine'.

"Alastor Mendacium"