Fiora was certain that Sreda and Wardruna were accepting visitors, but she tried to be polite. Sure, she'd seen the pups up close on their way home, but she'd wanted to give the new mothers time to themselves. But now that it'd become clear that family was allowed to visit, well. The Witchdoctor wouldn't be the last to meet the newest additions to their clan. They might not live in Elysium, but hey, neither did Sreda right now. Neither did Dimitri. Hell, last time they were at the Respite, it'd been damn near empty. Distance didn't mean that these sweet little treasures wouldn't be loved by Callosum and Bacchus as much as Stormborn.

She spent much of her time guarding the immediate area of the den, eyeballing those who approached with wariness, ready to spring at a moments notice from Wardruna or Sreda or even a squeak from one of the babes. Nobody would hurt her while she was around --and a familiar scent told her she wasn't the only one protecting the new family. She and Achlys seemed of the same mind in protecting Sreda and her whelps, but she hadn't the chance to actually speak with the quiet boy. Had she ever, really? They'd lived in Elysium together for so long, but she didn't think she'd ever sat down for a conversation with Sreda's oldest child. One day, he'd just... been there, and Fi hadn't questioned it.
She felt bad for that, now, and told herself to make up for it.

Fiora approached the den's mouth, a fat leg of goat in her jaws and head twisted to the side awkwardly, and boofed quietly around the hoof between her teeth. She would poke her muzzle inside to peek, tail waving, but no further until invited. She didn't even dare speak up, just in case they were napping and she should just leave the meal and come back later, but it was an almost-nice day without any notable weather or wind -- the most they could ask for, these gloomy, dark days, but Fi tried not to linger on it.
For all they kept trying to fix the world, Mythris just got angrier.