He couldn't complain, the room was alright.

When he'd first arrived there, he'd expected something less perfect. Maybe he was expecting something that reminded him of wreckage to reflect the feelings that he felt about moving here or maybe something that would get him closer to figuring out what had become of his sister. That's all he cared about, right? Finding his sister some day had been first priority for so long, sometimes he didn't even think about it anymore and that scared him the most. No, this room was alright. It seemed like it had been catered to him somehow, it reminded him of his old bedroom in the twenties. It was definitely smaller but the touch of class and time was still there. It was like being home, it had been such a long time since he'd been home. He had almost been moved to tears when he'd first seen it, luckily he'd restrained himself.

He hadn't brought much, just his clothing and his wallet, some photos in a brass box that now sat on his bedside table. He didn't really feel like he lived here yet, he felt like an observer. He felt like a scientist scoping the place out for some evidence that it was any good for him, he felt strangely detached. He always got this way when he moved and he'd moved an awful lot over the years, there was something about uprooting and going somewhere else that left a bad taste in his mouth. It took him time to get used to new surroundings, he couldn't say he was happy yet but he could say that he would be in time. It was just all so strange and new.

He hadn't really left the house much since he'd moved in but he guessed it was about time. Sulking about wasn't going to get him any more used to this strange city or its strange inhabitants. He drew in a breath through his nose to settle his growing nerves and got dressed as quickly as he could, opting for a black tank top that showed off the disfiguring scar that marred his shoulder. He really was proud of his scars, they were the proof that he'd been fighting. Not just against the children of the Dawn but against the children of the Dusk as well. Those scars would make anyone think twice before messing with him, he didn't know why he was still so worried that someone wanted to pick a fight with him but he was. As he left the dorm, his skin was prickling with gooseflesh.

The city was beautiful, strange but beautiful. It reminded him of a fairytale, it reminded him of imagination and childhood. It was beautiful. He almost wished that it had been open earlier, with all the beautiful things he'd seen in his life, it was by far the most beautiful. He could see the different children of the Dawn and Dusk as they moved about throughout the market square, buying and selling things. A redheaded elf was eagerly trying to sell his wares and he could see a dark haired man bargaining with a child of the Dawn. He couldn't help but wondering if there was anything that he'd be willing to buy from here, drawing his gaze over the different stands, he felt like he was floundering.

People bustled past him while he tried to settle on something to look at. His steps were measured but they weren't assured, he was barely paying any attention to where he was walking. There had to be something that appealed to him, surely someone was selling something that he could buy.

Dazed.

Had he really started to zone out in the midst of all of this traffic?

"No, no, this is my fault," his voice was friendly, it sounded like it was hinting on laughter at his own foolishness. "I was loitering, I have a particularly bad habit of just standing about when I really should be moving on. I just- Well, I don't really need anything from here."

The young woman that had run into him had the whiff of forestry about her, the scent of leaves and dewy grass. She was shorter than him, pretty with olive toned skin and a pair of clear, golden-brown eyes. The scent of the woods that clung to her would have been strange if he couldn't smell the tinge of wolf that clung to her. Werewolves, he hadn't had the pleasure of meeting very many, it was almost strange to him that he was meeting this one now. It had been a good twenty years since he'd last run into a wolf, he could barely remember it now. Time blurred for him, memories became foggy and names became nonexistent. Trying to remember that last wolf was. . . Well, in a word, unimportant.

"Can I help you?" he asked, indicating the bag that she had lifted back up from the ground. "I mostly know my way around here. I wouldn't mind holding your bag, you can consider it collateral for me blatantly standing in your way."

The girl was about as scarred as he was, wearing them like pale badges on her flesh. He wondered where she'd come to collect all of her own scars, he had half a mind to ask but the manners he'd collected over the years screamed at him not to. He decided to listen to his better instinct for once in his life. The last thing he needed to do was offend her with prying questions. There was a time and a place to ask those things, this was neither the time nor place.

He liked the idea of company and she seemed interesting. He didn't know if she'd even let him take her bag for her but he was more than willing to try. He hadn't noticed before, but he could see that she didn't seem to be wearing any shoes which struck him as slightly confusing. The amount of people moving through the marketplace was more than enough reason to at least opt for flipflops. "You're going to cut your feet up like that- Not that it's my business, of course! I just naturally worry. There's a lot of people around here, someone could drop something that could hurt you. You ought to be careful."

Biting his knuckle as if to stop more words from streaming out, he mustered up a bright smile for her. "I'm Alder, like the tree. Are you new here?"

When he indicated that he could take her bag, he noticed that her grip on it tightened. It struck him as strangely defensive, she didn't seem to trust him and he guessed she had no reason to. She had only just met him after all and he'd always been told that he came on kind of strong. He had learned a lot of things over the years, subtlety was not one of those things. Unfortunately for her, having a way with words was also not one of those things. "It's not like I'm going to steal your bag or something." he said, "I have my own stuff."

His tone remained light and friendly throughout the entire statement, despite how shady it actually sounded. That was the thing about Alder, he was extremely friendly and socially likeable but he wasn't what any person would define as particularly good at judging the weight of his words. He simply just spoke whatever was on his mind, it was indiscriminate and honest. Though that blatant honesty could be extremely disarming for those who were not prepared for it. Sometimes that honesty bordered on rude or made for unconventional statements that could be discomforting if taken wrong. It was both a curse and a blessing, depending on how people chose to see it.

"Oh, dammit!" she exclaimed, throwing her bag back to the ground and falling to her knees to look through it. "I'm such an idiot sometimes, I swear!"

Her reaction momentarily startled him and he was mesmerized as he watched the wolf dig around her bag. He perhaps watched her too closely as well, studying her movements carefully. Having never spent much time with wolves before, having this one before him was extremely interesting. He found himself wondering what her wolf form looked like, though he found that might be an awkward question to ask a young lady. Her movements were quick and feral, it made him think that she hadn't spent much time around people and made him even more curious about her. She was almost more wolf than girl as far as he could tell.

Strange as it might be, he wondered if there was any way to keep her talking to him. He was almost concerned that she might leave him as quickly as she'd came, he went to ask her about taking her bag again before he heard her chastise herself lightly. "Well done Sierra, right?" though the words were followed by a chuckle and he found that he liked her laugh even though it was a little self deprecating in nature.

Sierra was her name then. A name that simply meant "dark", he liked it. It seemed to fit her with her jaggedly cut black hair and distinctively inuit features, it seemed to fit her wolfish nature somehow. A simple, beautiful name. He would have to tell her that he liked it sometime, provided that he see her again. He couldn't believe he was trying to cook up plans for a future meeting that he didn't even know existed just yet. Sometimes he could be a bit too hopeful.

To his inquiry of whether or not she was new here, he listened closely.

"Yeah, I'm new here. New to everywhere, really. I don't really-" she froze.

When her words stopped, he stiffened, shooting a confused look over his shoulder. He half expected that they were suddenly under attack but no, she was just staring at him. He watched her inhale deeply and it didn't occur to him that she must be smelling him in the same way he'd smelled her. He saw something pass over her expression, though he couldn't quite read it. Why was she looking at him like that? Her voice came out in the form of a question, his brows lowered in confusion.

"Are you...?"

-And another voice cut her off, male this time. "Ex-excuse me sir, mam. If I may, umm, be so bold. Are you of pure blood?"

Seemingly, a storm rolled in for Alder, because the expression that had looked so pleasant before was now darkening. It happened so quickly that it was almost odd, his blue eyes were suddenly narrowed and his mouth curved down slightly. It wasn't the first time he'd ever been asked about his status, it surely wouldn't be the last time. The man that had asked the question was tall with skin the color of granite, swathed in a dark green cloak. He had the fine features of the elven race, the delicately crafted beauty that made them seem almost human and yet completely alien. He couldn't recall how long it had been since he'd met an elf, they were so few and far in between. He sometimes had been convinced that they'd all died out over the years. Elves were some of the oldest lore, a race of fighters and hunters that moved with otherworldly grace. It was almost awe-inspiring that this one should be addressing him, if only the question wasn't that particular question.

Thinking of his vampirism was always a bad train of thought, it brought up unpleasant imagery. That creature that had sunk his fangs into his throat and the feeling of the blood as it was forcefully removed from his body. The burning in his veins and the way that the man had looked down at him, his bleary vision making him into a creature of shade and fog. The way he'd woken up and lights had seemed so glaringly bright that they burned his eyes, smells had overwhelmed him from all directions. It had all just been so much. He'd been fearful but he hadn't shown it as he argued with that creature and his sister. He was trying to make her see that this was madness, he was trying to bring that man down with his words. Evidently, his furious words hadn't done much to sway either of them. In the end it had been him who'd left them after all, it had been him who left his sister. Amaranth, like her namesake, remained unfading and undying in his memory. He had chosen to leave her behind. Sometimes he regretted it so much that it made his stomach churn.

Deciding it was best not to focus on these thoughts, he turned to face the elf, drawing in a breath, he somehow managed to keep his tone neutral though there was the slightest bit of strain in it. "No, I've met my fair share over the years though." he mustered up a new smile, this one didn't quite touch his eyes like the other had. "My sister married one, I believe. He was the same one that changed me, though I couldn't begin to guess where they are now. Why do you ask? Do I remind you of someone?"

He genuinely wanted to know despite himself, conversation was conversation. Usually when he was asked about his status, it was by the naturally curious or by someone who was sure they recognized him. Changed vampires seemed to die a lot quicker than Pure Bloods, natural bad luck and the overwhelming urge to feed was a plight upon his kind and it ended in a lot of untimely deaths. He supposed he was lucky in a way, he'd learned the art of control for the most part. "You're an elf, aren't you? I haven't met very many of your kind."

Turning his attention to Sierra again, he tilted his head curiously. "I believe you were going to ask me something?"