Jefferson had never been at war with anything other than himself, thus the words Jantus spoke of were somewhat foreign. To stand beside someone confidently in combat he could understand would create a level of bonding; from what the Patriarch had gathered, there was no experience more damning and disciplining than war. The cyclops would have been grateful to stand out the rest of his days in the peace he knew now, rather than have both he and his underlings suffer in a battle of disagreements and opposing opinions that could have been otherwise settled. He was not a pacifist, no, but the countless scars that shredded his skin were evidence that Jefferson had known the worst conflict well several times and now, after over a year of peace in Phoenix Valley, knew the benefits of peace.
He sighed. How many of the lost members of the Valley -- those who had just suddenly disappeared without a trace, like Iskata and Allegro -- had actually fallen to their deaths and not met the afterlife with closure at a funeral? When it came to those who vanished, Jefferson had always taken extra time to scout out the outside borders of Phoenix Valley in fear he would stumble upon another collapsed, scarred and torn Iskata clinging to life. Every time a member left suddenly, the Patriarch spent the next few days routing out the land outside the Valley just in case, following lingering scents and what little knowledge he had on their traveling tendencies. He'd never had any luck, though he had found Iskata and saved her life, not to mention Addison freezing in the snow. Jefferson had done his share of rescues, most unknown to the world around him, but never amounted to anything more than a one-eyed monster with a foul demeanor. He'd never thought of himself deserving of the honor the late Skoll was now receiving -- the crimes he'd committed in his past were unforgivable.
Jefferson found no words to respond to Jantus, having become lost in his thoughts instead, but eventually focused his eye on the female who stood briefly at the headstone. Who was she? What was her story? The factors in a life that he, the skilled analyst, could not figure out in a stranger were overwhelming. Jefferson sighed, though his ears perked when a male took his turn next. He carried himself well, as if he had led battles and creatures. This wolf, presented as the dead man's brother, spoke of Skoll highly although it became obvious that they had been separated a majority of their lives. Skirnir didn't say it directly, but it occurred to Jefferson that the brother regretted the division, mentioning that Skoll had in fact been exiled, though no details were included. Perhaps then, Skoll himself had committed some crimes despite all the glory he eventually lived up to -- had Jefferson been more sentimental, he might have thought he could do the same.
The cyclops knew none of these people, thus the speech from Skirnir came across as no surprise to him, but it seemed uncharacteristic as Jantus was stricken with alarm and awe. Jefferson simply glanced at the fellow cyclops, then turned his eye to the group again. Jantus and this bunch were like he and Phoenix Valley -- the two groups knew nothing about each other, but there was so much history and stories beneath the fold to share. For now, however, Jefferson noticed a few more faces looking willing to speak, and the Patriarch simply kept his thoughts to himself and remained silent.
