The children of the Fantastic Four would never be without family. Whatever her broken-hearted mind thought, the pups that were born in that community den of Asteraia would have one another. It was a fact that some of them that had not inherited their father’s title seemed to have forgotten - that no matter how their fathers died or did not name them heir, those who had been would never forget those that were raised beside them. The bond would perhaps not be the same as ‘normal’ families, but of that, the loyalty and memory of the heirs, would be sturdy as tempered, treated steel.
Vladimir was the least soft of his siblings, entirely too like his father for his mother to shine through much, and yet as he casts about to hunt for his imprint (the lass wandering off and not returning in months) he scents something painfully familiar. His eyes snap to his right, the origin of this memory, this scent, and he sees the trail of bloody pawprints.
His shoulders hunch, his legs bending him into a crouch to get the best angle on the scent, he puts it to his mind to track this miracle. He looks fixed, fixated, lost to the wonder of this scent that had captured him. He is different enough, now, with Soma’s guidance of his soul, that he valued this reunion - his sister become prodigal while all the other children waffled over the loss of their mother to whatever oblivion had come to swallow her up. If only she could see them all now, if only he could instill in his newly warmed core what he had missed in life.
Semele would be the beginning of that, he thought.
She whimpers as he hunts her, stalks the edge of the newly much more friendly and appealing Spirane, and finds himself in Aplos. His red coat against the white snow is mirrored in the earth beneath the shadow of a girl he finds. She is the smoky embers to his flaming self, the rich, dark, heat of a fire well burnt out. It makes him flip his ears back to see her so worn. It is not like the sister he knew and he is compelled forward by the uncomfortable sense of what Soma’s soul tells him is normal to feel at that time.
“Semele… it does not do for a pretty girl to lay in the snow..” he does not precisely smile, but there is a smirk of humor that would have been utterly alien to his face before Soma had claimed him for herself. “May I come greet my sister?” It is a tentative question, unusually uncomfortable sounding as he stands and for a moment looks a little lost. There is a slight wave to his mid-ranged high tail of hope, but it is clear he does not know if she wishes his company. “You have been gone so long, like mother, and… I find I have missed you.”.