Alder
UPDATED DATE: 12/31/25

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Strange, to call this place home. This place ... this place that her brother had inhabited for so long. The gripping air held the chill of the North — a place numb enough to steal away the sensation of any feeling that would threaten the surface. The irony of that wasn't lost on her.

Perhaps this was where she belonged afterall.

Though she did have a lingering softness in her heart for her cave, her experiments, her herbs. And if she missed anyone, it was the presence of her shadow — little Kosa. Her time with him had been so short, the sweetness of his musty scent still lingering in the back of her nose. A shame that he had been called back to his realm so soon ... and a bigger shame that she could not have joined him.

Death continued to elude her.

So today, she would focus on the family that she had. And she would start with her brother. It had been some time since they'd caught up, and she hadn't yet spoken to him after ... well ... everything. He was a murderer now, after all. And for the faint of heart, that could be a heavy burden to bear.

A bone-gripping breeze caught on the air, pushing through the misted sky as the sun retreated behind a veil of clouds. The snow flurries around her, her dark form prominent against the tendrils of ermine snow. And when she opened her eyes once more, she pushed onward, wuffing into the open air — Alder. Her voice sought him — summoned him.

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They had exchanged distant pleasantries in their duties since Sreda's arrival. A few shared nods, some dismissive flicks of the tail; they crossed paths but did not readily speak. Alder would shy away by default, the blood of their grandfather still fresh on his tongue, still staining his thoughts. He was not ready to speak of it, not for a long time, until at last it was unavoidable and she summoned him like the undead from the grave and he felt bidden to respond.

Perhaps he was already dead, in some ways.

Sreda, he said mechanically, legs moving toward her in spite of himself. She'd always had a strange hold on those around her, seemingly able to command them with just the sound of her voice. She must have gotten it from Amaranth.

He'd gotten his gullibility from Valeska.

It's been... a while, he said, shifting awkwardly on his paws. It was an understatement. They hadn't spoken in months, maybe a year or more by now, and he couldn't decide whose fault it was or if she even cared at all. The way she looked at him felt like she was peeling back the layers of his soul, and he bristled reflexively. Protectively.

Sreda would notice.

A lot has happened. Surprised to see you here.

A long pause. He felt as if he still reeked of Cypress and the urge to plunge himself into the river was almost uncontrollable.

Do you like it?

Skill:

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The flame-bound would find her, the summons of her voice enough to draw him from the grip of winter. He was easy to spot against the icy atmosphere, his fire-red coat bright enough to block out even the likes of the winter-weak sun.

Sreda would slow, steadying herself before his much larger frame. They held the same stoic sense of power, despite their disparity in size, and Sreda’s amethyst gaze would catch on Alder’s sun-orange. “It’s been….. a while,” he would comment. A while. She could have laughed if she were not so equal to blame in their lack of communication.

“A lot has happened.”

Sreda would raise a gentle brow.

Yes.

One of them had killed and one of them had procreated.

And it wasn’t who you would expect.

Alder would ask another question, but Sreda had already taken a step forward, glancing upward at Alder from below the bridge of her own nose. What did it feel like? Perhaps it was her own way of asking how he was. Perhaps she was inquiring if he was … coping.

But more than anything, she wanted to know what it felt like to take the life of another. The life of another higher creature. For Alder, now, was a deliverer. Of … death. But that did not make Alder a hero, did it?

Sreda could understand that. The dark necessity.

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