put your hands into the fire.

Jefferson Soul · 12-08-2010, 01:43 AM

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No post order from here! Post all you want with each other; members are now allowed to leave or just chat it up! Feel free to post as much as you want! Also, this post is awful.

The tales of his members were shyly admitted, though overall few in number. He hadn't expected much to say the least, but found himself pleased with what was finally discussed. He knew most of Addison's story already from when they had met up, but the Patriarch nodded rather quickly at the girl's admission of Haku's ways. Jefferson and his late half-brother weren't exactly like black and white when it came to comparisons, but their morals surely stood in different places. What had his mother been up to when he raised such a child?

Skeptical as always, Jefferson maintained an empty, emotionless face at Pendzez's story; it was an interesting one, of course, one that peaked his curiosity, but the scarred man hardly believed in spiritual butterflies and whatnot. Pendzez spoke very little of it when it came to pack ways, and Jefferson could only wonder what reasons the white male had for leaving the pack he spoke so highly of. Phoenix Valley offered nothing for his spiritual ways and what he was 'born to do'—so why did Pendzez so choose to stay?

Considering Noah's parents, Jefferson could not really imagine much different from boy's story. His parents and their foolishness appeared to be all he knew; the pack which his mother founded, even in her absence, was all he had left. Deuce and Lucifer would not be welcomed back into Phoenix Valley, Jefferson knew, but the cyclops pushed against his bias and saw Noah as a neutral entity alone. His story was a dark, cruel one compared to all the rest, but the cyclops simply nodded in appreciation. His son tucked his head into the scarred man shyly, too shocked and embarrassed to say a thing. Would Pripyat grow into the confidence of his father? Would Jefferson have any impression on him at all? For now, the cyclops simply reached his tattered fingers and wrapped them around the boy, offering him a reassuring pat on the back and holding him close as such.

At Adonia's brief words, the cyclops couldn't help but crack a scarred smile for the first time. "This is your home," he said finally, in more sympathetic words than the cyclops was used to admitting, "but what you choose to share is your own decision." He hadn't known she was from Europe, however, and made a note to question her further on it at a later time.

And finally, Geneva spoke. Jefferson turned a questioning eye to her—perhaps she was only making up for what Pripyat had not said, but the cyclops had expected her to speak of Jordan or her time in Crimson Dreams. Anything that didn't pertain to he or Phoenix Valley, but the brute was wrong. He smiled a little, shielding his embarrassment, then turned back. "It seems you people have more to talk about than I thought," he shrugged. "More reason for you to talk with each other. The fire's burning and the night's young. Talk to each other."

With that, the cyclops glanced briefly at Geneva once more, then turned his attention to the pup under his arm. "Pripyat, why didn't you say anything? What about that time we picked flowers for your mother, hm?"

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