Open door policy?

The scent markers along the bordering woods had long faded, and at first Vanta had worried that her family's claim upon this land had lapsed as had so much else. Enough remained, however, that skeptical optimism allowed her to trod on, weaving through the gnarled woods until at least she reached the recognizable mountain that had been her birthplace. The Fatalis Family's throne.

Her paw paused only momentarily as it reached the border, hovering over the threshold as she took in the sights, the scents, and the flood of emotion that followed. This was home, and her father had never - would never - turn her away. High above her toucan soared, gladdened to have returned to his roost and giving happy little squawks as he circled. Her viper came out of hiding too, slithering out from within her thick, crystalline fur to coil itself loosely around her neck and shoulders.

Emboldened by her companions' and her own (buried) enthusiasm, Vanta's paw fell upon the cold stone. Her claws dug in without thought, finding familiar traction upon the slope as she made to climb. Her nostrils flared, the chill of the north filling her lungs as she worked to draw in the surrounding scents. Her father, where was Sirius? Why was his scent so faint that it was barely even there? "Dad?" Vanta called out, tentative.

"Speech"