take me before i start to change my mind

Jefferson Soul · 11-08-2010, 10:00 PM

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Hope a grumpy cyclops is okay, since Jefferson can kind of relate to a bunch of the issues Silas is having. I don't know where the caves are in Inferni territory; can it be supposed that Silas is in viewing distance from the borders? If not, I can always get rid of this post. :3

He had heard rumors upon rumors about some loony group establishing themselves as a pack somewhere far to the west to Phoenix Valley. While none of these rumors had been confirmed as correct, it forced the one-eyed idiot to reconsider his pack's relationship with the other packs yet again—something he commonly brooded about, for his pack's safety was always his highest priority. He and Dawali had hardly spoken since Geneva's fall before even the summer, though the cyclops had come across Ember at one point or another, and yet despite their gap in relations, Jefferson knew confidently the tribe had he and his pack's back. Haku had been torn down from Dahlia months prior and hadn't been heard from since, or so Jefferson knew, and yet the cyclops had yet to meet the beast's rumored son that had taken over. Where was Cercelee?

Inferni was not a particularly long trek to the north, and so when the cyclops realized it had once again been some time since he'd heard from the coyote cult, he set out instantaneously. The brute could not wait until the winter—the bitter months tore at his joints and made any extensive travel difficult for the aging beast, thus the trip needed to be happen sooner. He hadn't heard from Kaena, that peculiar fellow cyclops, since the day he'd rescued her, and it seemed unlike Gabriel to show his face every once in a while, either. It had been many months since the fire that destroyed their original home and forced them further north to resettle; due to their 'good behavior,' Jefferson could only assume things were working well.

But he had to check in, not just to ensure his pack's safety but also to satiate his mild curiosity. Green eye fell on the same skull-tipped posts that lined Inferni borders, though the sight hardly stirred any feeling within him anymore. The air still stank of blood and wariness, like a disease that brushed through in the wind. He shivered, cleared his throat, walked the borders. Should he call? No, it wasn't urgent. If they continued to be this quiet as he moved along, the brute would simply turn around and go home. Surely, if they were up to something, he'd have sensed it by now.

However, he did not. Instead, he came across one of its members—one that looked hardly coyote, or so he thought—sprawled and open on the ground. Gritting his teeth, the Patriarch wasted no time—he hastened to the stranger's side, fearing the worst, but recognized a breathing chest and open eyes as he came closer. No emergency, yet the one-armed idiot was already past the Inferni borders. Damn. He could had turned around, could have just headed home and acted like he'd seen nothing, but he did not. Jefferson stepped slowly, unfazed, to the prone man's body and hung down over him. "So," the cyclops muttered sarcastically, "this is what you people do when you're not maiming people."

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