put your hands into the fire.

Jefferson Soul · 11-17-2010, 11:56 PM

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Posting order restarts here! Jefferson is instigating that everyone tells some sort of story about themselves, whether it's something that happened to them or something that means a lot. Do the whole thing on your post as storytime goes around the circle!

Their numbers had dwindled, and yet those that still remained were quick to respond. The cyclops brightened considerably upon seeing their faces, one by one, return to his gaze unchanged and unharmed. He was their guardian, their authority and yet even the Patriarch was aware how little he knew about each of them. The brute felt assured, in the end, that his members were comfortable with his authority and respected him as such; most, if not all, would only mildly hesitate to approach him with problems concerning the pack or whatnot. Despite his brutish demeanor and independent nature, Jefferson served well as a leader in general. He did not ask much of them, and they did not ask much of him. It worked hand in hand, somehow.

His daughter was first to arrive, and his son not far after though separately. Where was Grace, if she was not with either of them? On top of that, Geneva was the last face to appear, and the little girl was not with her either. He smiled at his members though curiosity lurked in the back of his mind; they said their hellos, patient and calm, like strangers settled in one place. Green eye hung over them, shifting from each uncomfortable face to the next, before noticing their placements, in a circle, as if meeting. He thinned his eye and snorted rather loudly in the silence, "This isn't a meeting, you idiots. Stop looking at me like that." He looked from side to side, then quickly scooped up Pripyat and presented him to them rather regally, scarred arm and all. "Here, if you need something to talk about, here's my son. Discuss." And, in the center of the circle, Jefferson plopped the boy down.

"Otherwise," his raspy voice chuckled, "I didn't start that goddamn fire with one hand for nothing. We are a small group, and these are your packmates." His eye flashed to his daughter, the fire dancing gold within green. "Addison! Tell us a story of when you were gone. Then Pendzez, of your butterflies. Noah, what happened to you. I'm listening." With a flick of the ear, Jefferson scooped up Pripyat once more, pushed him onto his shoulders, and took his place once more beside the olive-eyed Whilom. With a nod to Addison, he fell silent.

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