11-28-2009, 12:46 AM
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Pendzez was still rather stiff, just as Jefferson remembered him to be. The white wolf had been more casual and leisurely before the cyclops had taken on leader ranks; the first conversation the two shared, when they both had joined the Valley just days apart, had been brutally honest and almost philosophical. That had been over a year now, yet Jefferson still remembered it like yesterday -- mostly because he and the white wolf had barely spoken more than in passing since. They were on two different worlds somehow, and yet physically bound to the earth so conveniently close to each other at that very second.
Jefferson wasn't a skeptic and didn't believe in ghosts, but the cyclops was still affected by the eerie flow of air even in the stillest of cemeteries. Taking a leisurely stroll through an area completely devoid of sunlight and all happiness was not exactly his way of spending free time. For the sake of curiosity and shooting the shit, the cyclops glanced down at a tombstone as his palm was laid atop it. "What do you think of the afterlife, Pendzez?" The white wolf had some interesting opinions to accompany his jolly demeanor -- his answer would be an interesting one, regardless. Even after all this time, Jefferson was still the die-hard analyst he rarely revealed himself to be.