Was it really morning already? It was warm, comforting and even peaceful, but for a reason she believed herself being rather paranoid over, she decided to dismiss the thought like she was waving away a bothersome insect. It was the type of thought that was not as dominant as the rest swimming about in her mind, but it still was able to draw her attention more than the others did. Rosalie would have stayed in bed if not for a familiar voice that rang through the room. She stayed where she was, stunned as her eyebrows began to slowly knit together in thought. How many years now had it been? How many years had she gone without hearing that voice? The girl blinked and shot up into a sitting position, staring at the person before her with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “Good morning.. Dad..,” Those were words she thought she would never get to use in a long while and yet here she was - sooner rather than later. Rosalie wrapped her arms around him tightly, fighting back tears as she looked up at him. “Dad..” She repeated in disbelief.

The comfort he provided was familiar, the kind that made her want to close her eyes and fall asleep in his arms like she always used to. “I missed you, too. Where have you been, have you been eating well and taking care of yourself?” She asked him, dearly concerned. Leaning back, Rosalie let him go, the glass of juice he had brought her forgotten and in favour of more important things. He actually had to hand it to her again before she remembered to accept it and when she did, she was invited to head downstairs. Rosalie did not drink from it, gaze transfixed on Setton’s retreating form. ‘[i]Is this real?[/I]’ She asked herself, looking down into her beverage. She could feel the wait of it in her hands and she definitely could feel the heat coming from the sunlight shining through her window. It lured her into a sense of comfort that she hadn’t felt in years. As safe as she had felt around the Clearwaters, the security she felt now was different. However, it still nagged at the back of her mind that something was off.

Holding her cup of juice, Rosalie slipped out of bed and went to inspect the walls with a hint of wonder in her eyes and the way she moved about her room. It was the same room that she had left on the day of her 14th birthday and nothing had changed since then. Lifting a finger, Rosalie experimentally ran it along the surface of a photo frame of her as a child being held in Setton’s lap. She smiled at it, remembering her eagerness to get away from him and her demands to see her real parents. The girl brought the finger under her inspection, rubbing it against her thumb in awe as she started sweeping her gaze around her room.
“Not a speck of dust..,” she murmured to herself. “Dad really is meticulous about order..” It was his job, she supposed with a sigh. Even some of her drawings were still in place on the walls. Where did he find the time to maintain the room like this?

Deciding that she had idled long enough, Rosalie followed after her father, unaware of the dark, wispy tendrils that snaked out from underneath her bed like trapped mist seeking an escape route, waving after her ankles in frustration when it failed to catch its prey. Sensing that she wasn’t coming back anytime soon, it slowly receded back into its confines.

Now downstairs, she propped herself down in the seat opposite her father, unsure of what to say after so long being alone. A range of emotions rushed through her, unable to be expressed with just a word or even a few sentences. A part of Rosalie wanted to be mad at him for sending her away like that, for walking out of her life the way he did, while other parts of her wanted to celebrate their reunion and cry against him. Suppressing her emotions, Rosalie started with the question that came easiest to her: “You’ve met Gore already?”
She then reached for her spoon and fork, taking comfort in the fact that her father still remembered what she liked to wake up to. It was usually her job making breakfast, but this time, she was going to take it as him trying to make it up to her. “I missed you so much, dad.. You.. really have no idea..” Her voice cracked a little and she had to stop and take a breath. 

She let her gaze wander about the room once more as she composed herself. “Why did you send me away like that? Why couldn’t I hide with the others?” Rosalie popped a bit of food in her mouth as she waited for an answer, still in disbelief that her father was there in front of her. At times, she found herself staring at him to be sure that he was in good shape for his age. That warm smile, the nickname he gave her, and his remembrance of her favourite food made it feel as if being with the Clearwaters was a world away, that it was all in the past.

__

As the goings on in the house continued, Aisen stalked through the shadows like a wraith, blending into the darkness when it was needed. Just ahead, he could see the result of his work just above the roofs of the surrounding houses as he made his way to his destination. He would make the dragon pay for what he had done to his dear companion, Delna. Last time, he had allowed the younger one to do the job, but this time, he was willing to jump in and have his cuffs soiled if it meant feeling the satisfaction that came with making the blasted beast suffer. He self-consciously clenched his fist as he neared the dwellings of the Clearwaters, knowing the beast was near as well but trapped in an intricate nightmare that he had spun - had spent time planning while he was at Delna’s side. The girl had passed not three weeks ago, but that time alone was not enough for the man to consider letting the winged lizard go without at least causing some harm so that Delna’s efforts in weakening the beast would not be in vain. 

Finally arriving at the household, Aisen did not step in any closer than he needed to. Deciding to raise a hand and whisper an incantation, eyes glowing an ominous purple as he did so, he swept his hand out in front of him with a delicate motion as if the spell itself was fragile. With him being so near to the site of his spells, the web that he had spun to ensnare his victims was sure to grow stronger. It was clear that with the added incantation, he was planning something; a shift in the dream that the two were currently experiencing. After all, what better way to weaken the mind than when they were least expecting it. He scoffed, holding back a laugh that would have sent shivers down the spine of anyone had they been near enough or even there to hear it. ‘[I]Blood Dragon. Pah! Pathetic, daft beast.[/I]’ Aisen thought to himself. With the narrowing of his eyes at the shed, he leaned back against a tree with arms folded and, setting up a small barrier that would alert him to anyone or anything that dared to approach, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to peer into the dream. ‘[i]Let’s see how my little test subjects are doing.[/i]’