Firestone Hot Springs You eat us up

The pale she-wolf watches him closely, but he can’t really tell what’s in her gaze as she does. He can’t discern the emotions in her own eyes, but he’s sure she can see what’s in his. The silence is tense for Alduin. Even after he hears himself asking her questions, he wonders why he even wants to know. Perhaps he’s searching for a semblance of his old self in the foggy depths of his ruined mind. Little does he know, he won’t be finding anything anytime soon. His young, innocent self is but a long, lost memory to what he’s become now.

He searches his thoughts, but ultimately it’s her who offers him the requested information. Her voice rips him from his thoughts and his gaze becomes a bit more present.

A river spat you up…

With even just those words a flood of memories come crashing in. How come he has to be reminded in order to remember? What has Banesteppe done to him? He always finds himself thinking. He remembers it now. Waking up and seeing this same woman framed by darkness and rain. He remembers his time at Moonglow. He remembers meeting his Shadow after that.

That wave of realization is what makes his eyes widen just a fraction, the rest of his face seems grim. Mostly because of his own internal fury towards the dumpster fire that is his mind. A familiarity shows itself in red wine orbs, but they’re still just as feral as they were minutes ago.

The Saints came for you. She says.

“Did they.” He hums out deeply, a slight lilt in his tone shows the sarcasm that shines through. “Yes, they did.” He confirms mainly to himself. “Perhaps they shouldn’t have.”

He remembers his father finally finding him and scooping him up. Taking him away from the Shadow. Taking him away from the Saints — the canyon. His entire family left. No Saints. Just them. No Thyme, no Nyra, nobody else — just them. They abandoned them. Or at least that’s what Alduin thought back then and when age came quicker, that’s what he assumes still.

So he peers over to the woman who’s name finally shows itself in his memory. Kukutux. Yes, that’s it. He goes quiet. Should he thank her? What does he do? He’s no good with reunions. He’s no good at emotions. He’s no good at being normal. So, he doesn’t thank her even though he should. Instead, his mind turns single-handedly towards his mission. 

His subtle anxiety is present. He licks his chops once more, spotted ears shifting this way and that. He’s a mess. He’s all over the place. He even growls low in his throat, shifting to move out of the steaming water. He needs to move. So he slowly paces along the water’s edge. He doesn’t look back to the ghostly woman either, keeping his head level with his shoulders and his eyes in front of him. 

“Kukutux,” He calls lowly, peering over to her almost in question, hoping that really is her name. “I’m here on business.” He admits then. “I hope you have information.” It’s said not as a threat, but a statement, but with his gruff voice and tone it could be perceived as one.

The hellhound turns towards her then, slinking to her side of the pool and looming close by, staring her down with determination set in his eyes. An opportunity has presented itself. Perhaps she can help him.

“Information on Ursus.”