Refugees on the mountain

[Zexion]

[html]I feel irrational, so confrontational

Huh. Maybe he was an idiot. Zexion had very clearly as why he was here, not why he was here. Zexion knew the why. It was very apparent. What he didn't know was why here. Why his stomping grounds, of all places? And, gods, why did they have to try and reform their packs where he was? I liked being alone, he thought, sitting his skinny self down and observing the newcomer sharply. He got an introduction. Zexion hadn't gotten that. Then again, it wasn't as if he had been polite. Or that he wanted to know who he was speaking to. He scowled at nothing in particular. "How many survivors are you expecting to find?" he asked. Ye gods, there couldn't be that many trying to make packs on his mountain, could there? Perhaps he was being a bit possessive over a chunk of dirt and trees, but he'd been skulking here far longer than they had.

But the reality is I'm getting away with murder[/html]

AND I POST. I am rusty. OIL ME UP, SCOTTY.