story book weddin

Jefferson Soul · 11-06-2010, 03:04 PM

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He had a strange knack for placing himself in convenient positions. More than once Jefferson's presence had been requested just a jog away from where he'd been lollygagging; more than once did Jefferson ever-so-conveniently stumble upon a foreign scent in passing and follow it to its route just minutes before his presence would have been requested anyway. The cold weather in particular made this innate sense less constructive, for the cyclops typically found himself additionally grumpy and pained in his joints, thus less likely to wander from the warm innards of the central ranch house. However, his duties as leader demanded otherwise, and once the brute led the ranch animals back into the barn and maintained their stock in preparation for the afternoon, the Patriarch shifted back into his shorter form, cleared his throat, and began his slow limp around the territory.

And, as always, the brute caught a whiff of a foreign scent and immediately tailed it. The cyclops had not lived in Phoenix Valley two years without learning each and every smell that filled the territory, including those of his members; with one eye and an ear out of commission, perhaps the losses had boosted his other senses. The brute chose not to care.

He came upon them, Adonia and an unnamed stranger, sauntering about past the borders. Tattered ears pricked with irritation, but the cyclops raised his head and peered his glowing eye down upon them. "I don't remember giving permission for guests," he said, eyeing the stranger darkly. His tone, however, remained mild and temperate. "Who is this? Why are you here?"

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