The flood had taken Seth entirely unaware as the dwarf eased his stunted body from his den to answer Razi's call. He'd been distracted, wondering why his aunt was calling and not young Ashiel, thinking as well about how the berries in the grove would be getting plump with this rain and wondering whether he wanted to make the trek out there to pick some to try to ferment them on his own, but even if he hadn't been distracted there was no way with his handicapped body he'd have been able to move fast enough to get out of the way of the flash flood. He'd been driven back into his den by the force, slammed against the cave wall, and sucked out again before he'd even been aware of the danger.

He was not a natural swimmer, not with his body crippled and twisted as it was, so it had been all he could do to struggle to the surface for occassional breaths as he was dragged out of the canyon and into the river that meandered down from the falls north of the canyon. It was the most terrifying few minutes of his life, and when he'd been slammed into a log travelling somewhat slower than himself it had ended in merciful blackness.

His eyes blinked open into darkness and pain and for a moment he had the vague and disconcerting thought that his collision with the log had blinded him. A blow to the head could do that sometimes, he knew, and he had a moment to consider that he was probably dead even if he had survived the flood, because why would an Abraxas allow someone who was a dwarf AND blind to live?

His forepaws made a faint scrabbling gesture, his body not willing to give up though pain arced through him at even that small, weak movement. But that small movement sent a startling flicker of bluish light swirling around him, widening Seth's eyes and driving some of the lingering cobwebs from his mind to make him more aware of his surroundings. He was still partly floating in water, his head resting on a rock that had likely saved his life by keeping his muzzle out of the water while he was unconscious, his forelegs and most of the front of his body floating in that water while his hindquarters were twisted and splayed on warm wet sand.

With awareness returning he saw now that rather than being caused by blindness the darkness was caused by the depth of night, a night rendered moonless and starless by thick clouds that still rumbled threateningly with thunder. That awareness brought him also to see that every lapping of a wave against his battered body brought with it a faint blue glow, a pale imitation of the blue swirls his movements had brought. And a startling realization, that he had somehow been washed down river and deposited at the beach on the opposite side of the continent!

Letting the water wash against his aches, he pondered his current situation. What had happened to the rest of the pack? His aunt and her pups? His various cousins, aunts and uncles, and even the mortals who'd given them their loyalty? Had the flood taken them all as well? Was he, by some crazed stroke of luck, the only survivor? He was too pragmatic and not nearly fanatical enough to believe that this was somehow the Fallen God's doing, that they'd lost favor or done something wrong. No, they were as susceptible to natural disasters as any other wolf. Some days he wasn't even sure he believed in gods at all, let alone the Fallen God that spawned them. Death, in the end, came even for Abraxas. He read no terrifying omens in the flood destroying Aurum.

But what was more than a little frightening was the idea of actually being the last survivor. He, the twisted little dwarf, the mistake, now alone completely in the world? As often as he'd bitterly wished that were true, now that it was possible he found himself hardly able to breath - and not entirely due to the undoubtedly broken ribs encasing his lungs. He would be useless on his own. He couldn't chase down prey, he couldn't defend himself, he couldn't...

He took a firm hold of himself, shutting off the gibbering thoughts before they could develop into full blown panic. This was ridiculous. He still had his mind, didn't he? He was brilliant, no one could truthfully say otherwise. He would find a way to survive this. Pain, though something he greatly disliked and tried to avoid gaining even more of, was just another fact of his so-far pathetic life thanks to his twisted and stunted body. The broken bones and deep bruises were debilitating but with the same stubborn pride that kept him moving day in and day out he would push past them. Eventually. For now he just floated, his head cradled on the rock, and concentrated on trying to breath.

The shadows of night time were the perfect cover for the monochromatic woman to slink through the lands of the southern continent unhindered. Red eyes gleamed in the faint traces of starlight that just barely illuminated the lands enough to travel. Alis was growing bored and restless, so rather than while away the hours all by her lonesome she felt it might be better to go looking for a way to occupy herself. Or trouble, that might suffice in a pinch.

She had caught wind of the packs of Auster long ago, but until now she had yet to consider a little visit. The smoke and brimstone woman who bore the same name as herself was the only pack wolf she could presently recall meeting, and that just wouldn't do. It was only polite to introduce yourself to your neighbors anway, right? She snickered softly under her breath at the thought.

Abruptly her inner thoughts were interrupted as she arrived at the shore, the glowing waves that lapped at the sand drawing her attention and refusing to let go. It was... well, amazing. Why did it look that way? For a moment pure curiosity and almost child-like excitement drove her to the waters edge in the hopes of seeing something that might cause the water to look so unnatural. While she didn't find answers when she arrived and the glimmering water splashed around her paws, she did find something else odd. A ways down the beach a small, limp looking form was laying still in the water, partway on the sand. Immediately she trotted over. Briefly she thought it might have been a child, which would have worried her, but she soon discovered the faint salt-tinged scent said adult. Hmm...

"If you don't move in ten seconds I'll assume you're dead and pull an ear off to be sure," she warned with a faint, dark smile playing at her lips. If the man was still kicking she intended to find out why he was here. It might be a good story, after all, though maybe she'd just toy with him to amuse herself. He was so tiny and pitiful looking now that she got a good angle to assess him, she figured the guy wouldn't be capable of much else.

"Oooooone,"

His pain-wracked stupor was interrupted by a female voice, casually threatening to remove body parts if he didn't move and show her that he was still alive. Seth's eyes blinked open in surprise, not only at being spoken to - because the sound of the gentle waves and his own preoccupation with deciding whether or not he was going to die had masked the sounds of her approach - but at being spoken to in such a manner. Not that he wasn't used to it, mind. He could not, in fact, remember a time when he had NOT been spoken to in a casually threatening, ridiculing manner.

Immediately though he closed them again against the sting of salt water and the pain that even that small motion caused. By all the gods fallen and ascended, he hurt.

"If you are going to threaten to remove my ears," he ground out, then paused for a gasped, pained breath, "you might at least have had the decency to bring a good wine with you."

Even before she'd begun counting Alistair had caught what she thought were faint hints of movement here and there. She couldn't be sure she wasn't just seeing things until the little dwarf finally hissed out a pained response. Hm, whatever happened to him must've been rough, considering he was floating like a sunbleached log in the ocean. He only got a sliver of sympathy from her though. Alistair wasn't the type to commiserate or dote on any poor helpless thing she came across.

"Pft, I don't think I'd waste a good drink on a stranger who so closely resembles a drowned rat. Do you often find yourself washed up in the ocean, or is this a new look?" At the very least she hoped the pint sized man could offer up a half decent story. Padding a slow circle around him, she couldn't resist the temptation to reach over and try to stick her snout under the guy's back and flip him over out of the water. Maybe if she put enough force behind it she'd get more than one flip? That would be amusing.

"Have a name?" she asked in a tone that was a little too casually conversational for the harsh glint in her ruby eyes. Maybe it was because he just seemed to reek of physical weakness, but she found the idea of toying with him for just a little longer to be quite appealing. It was doubtful she'd do any real harm to such a weak and already battered wolf, but he didn't know that, and that was part of the fun.

The longer he remained awake, the more he was becoming used to the pain of bruises and sprains and broken ribs. He certainly didn't feel up to running around at the moment, but he was slowly coming more alert, and he was able to ease aching limbs beneath him to rest on them. He didn't think anything was broken in his legs, but he'd definitely sprained his right hock and sliced open one forepaw on something, and all four legs were a mass of bruising and sodden fur. The big muscle along his gaskin was knotted up where it had hit something, and he though it was probably a very good thing that he hadn't a tail because it probably would have been broken. Small favors. "I thought I'd try it on for size. Turns out I don't much care for it," he answered her dryly.

Blinking leaf green eyes open again he eyed her through the dark and the salt-water stinging his eyes. "I most certainly do have a name. Do you?" He wasn't sure he wanted to give his surname out at the moment, given the animosity many held for the Abraxas, being that he was in no condition to beat a hasty retreat if she were one of those who'd like to see an Abraxas dead, and he was still rather too muddled to be thinking clearly so he withheld his name altogether. He groaned, stretching that knotted up leg. "I hurt too much to be in heaven, but surely hell has no demons as pretty as you, my dear. So I can only assume that I'm still alive."

His answer amused her greatly. He was probably lucky he was managing to be this entertaining despite being a clearly broken mess. It made it a lot less tempting to poke and prod at the dwarf. "Probably for the best, it isn't flattering." Red eyes danced with that fire of a predator who was hopefully just playing. Shifting her weight and shuffling half a pace to the side, she felt the urge to move but was far too absorbed in prodding at damaged creatures to move very far just yet.

"Oh good, be a shame if I had to name you," she mused before replying, "I do too. Fancy that." Whatever reason he had for withholding his name didn't much interest her. If he was going to do that she'd happily do the same just because. The situation was a game to her, she hardly took this squirt of a man seriously anyway, though for the most part the urge to jab and and harm him had subsided. Now he was becoming more of a source of curiosity.

Shrugging, the woman scoffed at what she figured was some effort to gain her favor. Whatever he meant by that comment, Alis doubted she'd have reacted as expected even if he was some tall, dark and handsome dry stranger. "A good demon always come dressed as everything you ever wanted, don't you know? Attracts more than fire and brimstone."