He simply sat among the throne of bones and rot. He simply stared with eyes fixed on everything and nothing in front of him. It was an existence that hardly seemed worth it. To be torn from her was to be like air, to float away and be unseen. His emotions were like an ocean, waves of anger coming and going. He was either at the highest highs or lowest lows. And today, he was sinking into the void of his own blackened, shriveled heart.

She was gone and there was nothing that he could do about it. Yet, there was only thing that seemed to be the piece to the puzzle that was missing. Siren. Her scent was all over the scene of the crime, and she had not been seen since. Gone. She had not come back sense, and she had never left Iromar for long. He knew that she had to know something, had to be involved somehow. Was she taken away against her will? He mind could only boil over the thoughts as he sat on his haunches. Naberius was dead. Lillith was dead. Siren was missing. Only Astaroth remained of his family direct, and Rogue decided that Glorall was her forever home. He understood her though, his Rogue, his sister. He understood why she slowly let go of the hardcore Demon ways, just as he did in time, developed his own framework and mindset to work in.

He knew she was coming but he did not react. His fur was ruffled from the breeze of fall, and his ears remained at half mast as she came from behind him. Someone was coming, but it was not to be Lillith, not to be who he wanted to see ever again, and such a feeling only caused his breath to almost cease. Only when Aithne speaks with her voice like sandpaper does his red-tipped ears react, turning slightly back to listen.

She was working towards a place higher in this world, and he welcomed it. He enjoyed seeing someone willing to step forward and move up. He was glad to see work to improve, and as she spoke he knew she was suited for something more. Although his mind was still fixated on what he lost, he still acknowledged her words and their meaning, and yet they did not hold the same weight as they potentially would before. When she completes her words, he takes in a breath deep, closing his eyes that seemed to get all too dry with his constant staring. He was forgetting to blink at this point. Licking his lips he lifts his great form, twisting on paws to look towards her and give a single nod.

"Very well. Do you trust them?" he asks sharply, almost suddenly, a strange harshness in his voice that was different than his typical dark boom. It was a paranoia, something arising from the unexplained death of his very life and soul. "Did you see her? Did you smell her there? Is she hiding there? Siren?" he asked, his words drilling, focused in on the daughter that was to potentially explain all. He could not help but to ask, but to inquire. Siren is all he has left in Lillith. Astaroth is almost entirely Andras, but Siren...Siren was a smaller, stupider, version of Lillith, but still Lillith. He is a father torn, between the mystery of Lillith's death and grasping onto the very last piece of life that was Lillith.

"I...We, have a duty to find her, Archduke" he stated as he grinds his teeth. It was a statement heavy in tone and weight. Her promotion and the lingering duty to find the girl. Pain was etched so carefully onto his hardened face, looking off into the distance again as his scarred lips hold slightly agape, awaiting some magical words, of Siren's appearance or perhaps, something new to take his mind away from it...if such a thing were possible.