She knew what had happened, but it didn’t
feel like she thought it ought to. It didn’t make her weep, make her cry out. Finding them, as her uncle had done, might have sparked some surprised manner out of her perhaps - but not knowing this upon seeing them.
Their embrace had been final, but it had also been warm and after much joy. She did not feel compelled to quibble with the semantics of life and death. They lived on in her memory, in her imagination. She did not need the reassurances of her uncle that they would always be near her - she did not think so determinedly that death was an end to life.
What else, then, should she feel? Compelled to see the places that history was made in her family. She might not have been her elder brother, destined to inherit the wanderlust and Nanruan rituals like Alexander -- but she did have more curiosity than bias. The wolves that had toppled the family of Iblis were gone, a new leader stood in that place now. A new leader that she did not have any real animosity for and that she did not mind crossing if it meant seeing where her uncles were buried and living on the outskirts of the pack grounds. It was dangerous, this game she played, but then the Dragons of her father’s bloodline were rarely seen as more sane than lunacy.
Four mouths of the den-set were found easily, though the mud did sport an incredible amount of plant growth. She had begun to dig when a voice appeared from behind her. "It is me-- This is not Asteraia and you cannot make me leave." Her voice is young, but the tone of it is so sure of itself, as if dramatically but surely ready to die to keep herself to that particular promise. "This is my father’s den..." She says, poking her head out as if she had not offered a defiance moments before… never said she was ornery, only obstinate.
"His name was Fenrir… I am Tiamat." she finishes, seeming to be glad of company in spite of her behavior..