Manea seemed relieved when he explained what he had taken in those vials, seeing the stress and panic melting away from her expression. The two wolves were quiet for a moment, Alastor floating in a woozy state between lucidity and unconsciousness, his body heavy and muscles aching. He was only vaguely aware of Manea beginning to lower his paw—just for her to pull it up and begin inspecting his injured paw. No... she was inspecting his claws. He could see the gears turning in her head but didn't know what thoughts were fluttering about her brain until she began to speak again. He had demanded proof of the Ancients' souls that inhabited them supposedly. Well, he already had all the proof. His mutations—his fur and his claws—they had all come about after he had become a Mendacium, after he had created Avacyn and Saracyn and become the man he was always supposed to be as their father. His actions and his love had made him worthy enough for his gifts to manifest, and it had all come about because he had been taken into the family. Alastor's ears flicked back against his skull, glassy black eyes staring down at his claws, and at the purple paw of his wife gently cradling his. Despite all the rage and sorrow, despite the madness and instability, she still thought he was an amazing father. She was right too: he would tear the whole world down for his family.

It was slow and it was tedious, but bit by bit Alastor's reeling mind was beginning to understand. He couldn't find any logical way that explained away his sudden development of rare mutations after he had changed, nor how his own children had been gifted such magnificent rarities either. Maybe... Manea was right. Maybe his soul wasn't damned for all the sins he'd committed in his depravity or in the name of another. Maybe it had just taken a bit of extra work and weathering for the diamond to reveal itself beneath the coal. Alastor closed his eyes while Manea caressed his cheek with her paw, leaning into her touch while fresh crystalline tears fell down his muzzle, mixing with the blood he was still dripping. His homicidal anger had burned away and left nothing but cold ash in its wake. Alastor's body fully slumped, no longer the insane wolf he was when he'd left the den or when he'd returned. He heard Manea call for Irilyth, offering his mate no resistance while she ushered him carefully to the ground. His heavy body slumped and collapsed to the hard cave floor, feeling the aching tiredness starting to claim his mind. Was this what death felt like? A slow surrendering to oblivion? A gradual fading away of light and life? Was he dying right now?

Alastor was only partially cognizant for the poking and prodding of their little blonde healer as Irilyth began to tend to his wounds, extracting the glass from his paw and stitching up the larger lacerations on his chest and torso. Were those the ones made by the bear or the boar? He couldn't exactly tell where some ended and others began. A quiet squealing brought the dire wolf back to consciousness, obsidian eyes opening to spot his violet queen comforting their crying newborn on their bed. That paternal instinct flared up, urging his weary body to go over there to comfort his child, but he had no strength left to do so. At some point he heard Irilyth ask how many doses of his medication he'd taken. "Three..." he mumbled beneath groggy tones, struggling to keep his eyes open. Irilyth gave an exasperated sigh and continued to patch him up, stitching his wounds and covering them with a yarrow and horsetail paste to stem the bleeding and close the wounds before covering them in lamb's ear bandages.

Manea returned to his side while Irilyth worked on him, carrying their little fire-marked girl to nestle her between them once more, the way she should have spent her entire first day of life. Manea set their daughter between his massive black paws and Alastor instinctually scooped the small being in his grasp, holding her as gently as one would handle glass. With the glass removed from his paw, he had no fear of harming her with his touch, although some of his own blood smeared onto the tiny pup's fur, mixing with that of his other children's on her. Alastor watched the tiny girl settle in against her father and fall asleep once more. Tears filled his eyes; she was so beautiful and perfect! His eyelids slid closed and he curled his head down to gingerly press his nose to her crown, holding onto what little strength he had left to share this moment with her and his wife. Manea reminded him that she needed a name and Alastor gave a heavy breath in response. He was so far past thinking at this point. He was mentally, physically, and emotionally drained more than he'd ever felt before in his life. But for his daughter, he'd find the strength to give her this. "She needs something fiery like her fur... something graceful and powerful for the little fiery one," he murmured in his half-conscious state. The drugs were pulling his mind further and further away from him, but he held on just a little longer. Her paw on his foreleg brought his eyes halfway open again, glancing up to his smiling mate with a little smile of his own to try and reassure her that he was still here and still himself.

"Alastor Mendacium"

Manea watched as Alastor gently scooped up their daughter with a tenderness that still sometimes surprised her. This was the same man that had clearly spent the entire day tearing who knew what other creatures limb from limb, spilling blood everywhere he went, and yet when he had a pup in his paws he was the most gentle and sweet wolf she had ever laid eyes on. He was so hard to get a read on at times, but for now, when she was too tired to really consider anything else, she just let herself enjoy the sight of him with their daughter while Irilyth finished closing his wounds. She wished that they could have spent her entire first day like this, but unfortunately there was no way to rewind time and she would just have to accept what had happened and hope that they could form some kind of better understanding from it all. She could tell from his sigh that he was also hardly in any kind of place to stay awake and think of names, but before they finally rested she just wanted their daughter to at least have a name.

His tired gaze met hers for a moment, both of them haggard and frayed, but they were both here with their little girl. He wanted something fiery, graceful, and powerful for her and she nodded in agreement as she looked back down at the little fireball that created a splash of color between her father's dark paws. She thought for a few moments and while she did she noticed Irilyth back up from Alastor, seemingly content that she had found and bandaged all of the various wounds he had collected in his rampage. She gave the healer a grateful smile and nodded for her to come closer, tipping her head up to give Irilyth a gentle kiss as a silent thank you for her work before she went to leave the den again, Manea watching her go before she turned her gaze down to their sleeping child again. "How about... Fia," she suggested. It was a pretty name that reminded her of flame and fire, but she wasn't sure that it fit the graceful, powerful aspects of things that Alastor wanted. She hummed for a moment, her paw lifting to lightly stroke over the girl's fur. "Or maybe... Fiametta." That had a bit more regality to it. A strong, pretty name for a strong, pretty girl.

When she turned her gaze to Alastor to see what he thought, she could tell that he was just barely hanging on to consciousness and she wasn't doing much better. Smiling softly, she left one paw resting over Fia where she was laying curled up between his paws and shifted so she could slip her other foreleg over his shoulders, gently pulling him into her and guiding his head to rest across her foreleg as they all finally snuggled together as a family once more. She rested her head in the soft, plush fur of his neck, her own eyelids heavy now that the fear, the adrenaline, the anger and the sorrow had finally begun to settle so that her mind would let her body rest. She gently nuzzled behind his ear, saying softly, "Rest now. Fia needs you." She begun to fall asleep after that, tangled up with her little family and finally crashing into rest that her body so desperately needed.

"Manea Mendacium"

Irilyth worked diligently, patching up all of his wounds to the best of her ability before deciding he was suitable enough to survive the night. She forced the dire wolf to consume some red meat jerky to help replenish some of his lost blood just to make sure he didn't slip into anemic shock during the night, and then she left the couple to rest after a parting kiss with Manea. There was quiet in their bedchambers for some time while Alastor contented himself with watching their tiny fireball pup while she slept. Eventually Manea broke the stillness by suggesting a name. Fia. Alastor pursed his lips while he mulled the name over, trying it out in his mind. It wasn't bad, but it didn't feel complete yet. When Manea suggested Fiametta, he knew. That was it. "Fiametta... Fia for short," he spoke in hushed mumbles while he gazed at the newly christened pup between them. "Fiametta Mendacium. Yes, that's it." The dire brute cast a proud smile up to his mate; she was so clever when it came to coming up with fitting names. Avacyn, Saracyn, and now Fiametta. He should really just leave all the naming up to her.

With their daughter's name decided, Manea began to gently stroke Alastor's shoulder and forehead, softly lulling him into a trancelike state as a combination of exhaustion and sedative drugs pulled him further and further away from consciousness. Manea carefully manipulated their bodies so they were snuggling around their newest daughter, with his head resting on her forelegs and her head draped across his fluffy neck. Lying here, snuggling his beloved wife and their newest child, Alastor felt complete. This was how today should have gone—not what they got. Instead of joy and happiness, they'd gotten sadness and anger. The guilt gnawed at his fading mind, and before he slipped away into slumber, he had to make amends. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his words only just barely coherent as drowsy eyes disappeared one last time behind heavy lids. Manea used him to rest for little Fia, and only moments later Alastor was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling with slow, labored breaths, as vivid dreams of colorful and gifted wolves danced around his head.

Except this time, he was dancing amongst them too.

"Alastor Mendacium"

Just before she was pulled entirely into sleep, she heard Alastor quietly mumble an apology and she blinked open her eyes just enough to see him with a heavy lidded gaze. She didn't feel like he had anything to apologize for despite how he had stormed out and only came back after a day of taking his grief out on the world around them. She knew his instability, she knew how deeply he felt about their children. She should have prepared him better, she should have done more to ease him into this world that is so drastically different from everyone else's. She felt like she was the one that deserved the guilt and the blame, but she wasn't going to argue it with him now.

Manea gently licked over the back of one of his ears, replying quietly, "I'm sorry too." There was more to say, more to discuss, but not right now. Right now they all needed rest and to recover. Manea blinked away a few more tears that collected in her eyes while she lovingly groomed her husband's ears and neck until she felt him fully relax into a deep, peaceful sleep against her. That was when she rested her head on him again, nestling into his long fur and quickly falling asleep as well. Her dreams were bitter sweet and haunting of a huge, inky black man and a small, ruby and amethyst woman together in serene fields of swaying grasses. She couldn't reach them, couldn't speak to them, but she could see them and it brought her joy as much as it brought her pain.

"Manea Mendacium"