listen don't panic
#1
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For Lin. This is backdated to March 26.
     If it had been anyone else, Gabriel would have been content to let the incident die. He was not this lucky. Corona had even found him inside the lands, though she had given him only vague details. It could not go on. The Aquila was thoroughly fed up with dealing with a love-sick orphan. Concern for his sister was one thing, but there was a protocol for dealing with Inferni. Breaking this was unforgivable. Breaking this and then pushing the limits of the coyote’s patience was another.
     By the time Gabriel made it to the borders of Phoenix Valley, the subsided rage had begun to ferment. It had been two days, but he could still taste blood. While it had been raining during the trek here, this had stopped around half an hour ago. The world smelled like earth and water, but the borders were as prominent as ever and Gabriel halted at these. As early as it was, it was apparent that at least one person had crossed this section of the land in a patrol (he assumed this, at least). Remaining standing, the hybrid let out a wolfish call, not simply asking, but demanding.

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#2
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Rain had always aroused some sort of suspicion in the one-eyed Patriarch, as its presence always washed away the strongest of scents. Perhaps it was that he felt inevitably vulnerable, that his pack could be invaded without the means of awareness, or perhaps it was just a personal thing. Jefferson always was sure to run a quick border check immediately during or following rain--a few weeks before, he'd found a francophone foreigner wandering their borders in the rain who might've been there for hours otherwise. The fresh smell of rain was enough to calm his nerves, and his little run along Phoenix Valley went by rather quickly and easily. It was not until the sharp, alarming shriek of a howl near an area he'd already passed did he jump in his skin. Diligent as always (though not excited to backtrack an area already scavenged), Jefferson hooked backward and made his move back to the source of the demanding sound, of which he was not particularly happy about.


Slight frustration at the sheer demand of the sound melted only somewhat when Gabriel came into view; the two had met briefly not far back, but his eyes housed a different look. Jefferson had sensed something seething upon their last meeting, but the Inferni man had given him nothing to be highly suspicious of. "What's the meaning of this, Gabriel?" He asked just as demandingly, poised and on edge. Something was wrong, out of place. He hadn't the slightest as to what it was.


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#3
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     Gabriel could not hide the aggression in his eyes. Even his face, though normally stoic, was showing just enough; a twitch in the muzzle, in the lips. The hybrid’s body remained stiff and still, however. He could not afford to risk a second war, especially when the former-leader of this pack had died by his hands. “DaVinci. I don’t want to see him near Inferni again. He disrespects the clan and refuses to listen to reason. If I see him at our borders again I’ll kill him.” Flat, blunt, uncaring. There was no reason to play games or respect any form of protocol outside of this.
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#4
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Jefferson straightened uncomfortably, a bit taken aback by the Inferni man's sudden forwardness. He was brash and undeniably angry, but he was also standing on foreign land; not even a greeting was offered for being there, nor any mindful consideration over his behavior. Had the Patriarch been more touchy, he might have been irritated as a result. Instead, the gruff male pointed his single eye at the Aquila and eased nagging thoughts.


"Okay, sure, I will try to keep him away," the brute said suspiciously, not quite following what must have happened. "...But you will not kill him; he's too stupid to know better. You should know better than to come here snapping like this." His green eye thinned.

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#5
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     Judging by Jefferson’s reaction, Gabriel had come off too strong. The Aquila found little fault in this matter; politics was the game of his father, long before he went mad. Once he recognized this, the hybrid attempted to swallow his rage and found it caught in his throat. “Don’t chastise me,” he spat. “Ignorance is no excuse, given the number of times he’s been warned.” How many, and for how long? Years, it felt like. “If you can’t control him then I will.”

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#6
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Gabriel's behavior and reactions went unchanged; he was still clearly furious and insusceptible to normal conversation. Jefferson had a bad feeling amidst it all, as if the man wasn't thinking clearly nor wanted to be persuaded from what he'd already set straight in his mind. To say the least, Jefferson could not quite respect such behavior... nor could he tolerate it from someone who should have known better. "I'll chastise you; you're on my land. You control no one here." His neck arched, his head was held high. "Regardless of how my subleader has acted, you won't be making orders here."


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#7
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     While he recognized the unspoken need for respect, the dire issue at hand, the Aquila’s mind was not near the situation. He was buried deep in the need for blood, as he had been taught to do. His muzzle crinkled, revealing ivory teeth. There would be nothing greater then to rend the silver-gray coyote (no, a voice that was not unfamiliar to his mother’s whispered, wolf) then and there and be done with it. All that stood in his way was this crippled Cyclops, an obstacle he could cut down with little effort. That was all that stood in his way.
     He made as if to move when Iskata’s body flashed through his mind, and reason grappled hold of the hybrid. The snarl on his face melted, though he could not hide the tension lace in his body, nor the fire in his eyes. That, perhaps, he would be forever unable to contain. Quickly, and by all means deliberately, a mask of emptiness washed over his face. “I just can’t have this happening, Jefferson,” he said slowly, as if fighting to control his tone.

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#8
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Gabriel was teetering, and as the time spent there lengthened, the Patriarch slowly grew more and more uneasy. Perhaps it was instinct that led his stance to correct itself into something a bit more poised and careful, but this all went unknowingly to the one-eyed man whose focus remained primarily on how the situation could have been settled a little more... comfortably. The Aquila's features relaxed and his tone dropped to emptiness; the gimp wasn't quite sure what exactly he was to make of it. "What happens in my pack is my business to take care of," he replied, voice grim. "My subleader is under my command. You will not touch him without my saying so." Never had he needed to assure himself as leader and protector of his pack so much before; it was unusual, almost uncomfortable, that the pride of his pack could drive him so far.

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#9
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     All of Gabriel’s experience and training told him that Jefferson was on the defensive. Not only that, but his body was adjusting, readying itself to turn that into aggressiveness. This made him uncomfortable, if only because of the consequences that could arise from such an incident. Blood had been spilled all ready. Gabriel knew that he was taking a calculated risk and gambling with a dangerous contender.
     Then a quiet voice whispered in his ear and he remembered everything they had lost. His eyes narrowed. “If he comes to my home again I will do as I please.”

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#10
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The array of expressions that Gabriel was so quickly sifting through put the Patriarch on edge without end. The Aquila shifted from anger to distress and back again with ease; it was almost as if he was acting, though a steady, seething presence inevitably lay beneath the surface at all times. Jefferson recognized it, recognized a pain in the opposite's eyes he could compare with, though it must have been for different reasons. Gabriel was seasoned in ways Jefferson did not know and could not empathize with, just as Gabriel would not have fully understood the machinations that controlled the one-eyed idiot. His scowl darkened. "And your head will be mine if you kill him," he hissed, baring his fangs. "Don't think I won't do the same to Ryan if she shows her pretty face here." A lie--but Jefferson knew his way around fabrications. It was just as genuine as the sharpness within his eye.

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#11
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     There it was; that shift in the wolf before him that turned him from a person to a thing. Gabriel no longer considered that Jefferson had come to him with a cool head and even temper, and that they had even shared a laugh or two. He no longer considered that the cyclops was crippled and could have been outrun by most anyone. All he heard was the threat, and he perceived this as he had all threats.
     What control he had over his face broke. His lips pulled back and his eyes went wild. The fur along his body stood on end and his tail went brush-bottle. “Don’t you fucking threaten my family,” he snarled, and felt his muscles tense. There was an electrical current rushing through him, one which intended to find its way out of his bones.


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#12
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Gabriel reacted in a way Jefferson was only mildly expecting; the Aquila had struck him as some sort of intellectual--misguided, perhaps--but one that had the capability to control the raging emotions that seemed to be consistently whipping about within his head. Jefferson straightened and lowered his head to bare his fangs right back at the hybrid, accepting his snarl in turn as his opposite's whole body seemed to suddenly ignite like a fuse. Something--anything--was bound to happen then. His green eye thinned and his snarl wrinkled the scars of his face into something much more dark and ugly for a creature to possess. "Don't you fucking threaten mine," he hissed right back, an open hand at his side and a fisted arm slung over his chest.

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#13
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     And there it was. Gabriel heard the threat, perceived it, and all of his mother’s training washed through his skull. The talent she had seen in him, the same talent the coyotes, the war-mongers, and his father had seen, it had been crafted through her hands and through war. Four wars, now. The hybrid was barely aware that he was potentially striking a fifth as the spring in his spine coiled and tensed.
     Without a sound, he rushed forward. Gabriel moved with a speed that did not match his build, teeth flashing. He sought the open hand, the closest point for him to grab. Even if he failed at closing his mouth around this his body was a freight-train; it would barrel into the brown wolf regardless, and seek to knock him down to earth, and to his level. Something had to break. Something had to serve their collective need to dominate.

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#14
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Jefferson might have had fast reflexes, but it wasn't enough: Gabriel came barreling at him, his fuse finally finished and his overwhelming anger suddenly taking over. The Patriarch was not surprised; he'd anticipated something to happen all along and had known quite early that forcing the Inferni male off his lands wouldn't be as simple as an exchange of words. Instinctively, the brute raised and poised his open hand, though just barely soon enough to miss the rushing man's clamping jaws: they clicked in the air, but the hybrid did not fail to make contact: brute force slammed into the two-legged Patriarch, sending him backward and clearly off balance, spiraling backward onto the ground where he landed on his spine. He wasn't young: the slam of his back against the soil forced a pained scowl on his face, but the situation was not amiss. Open hand thrashed at the ground, clasping soil within his fingers as he regained his composure, and expected a second attack in such a moment of vulnerability, thus poising his well-trained feet and legs in a flash for Gabriel's expected next move.


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#15
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     Though he could control his body well, his size prevented him from turning on a dime. He barreled past the scarred wolf and slammed his feet into the ground. Aware of his disadvantage, the Aquila knew that this battle would be uphill. Recognize this as he did, there was no time for hesitation or to think ahead. Survival depended entirely on impulse and instinct. There would be a need to see this end; he did not wish to kill Jefferson, nor did he intend to. Gabriel snarled and turned his body, lowering his head and charging forward.


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#16
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This wasn't fun and games. There was no time for sarcasm and the space for words and reasoning were gone. As expected, Gabriel wasted little time regaining himself and shooting a second run, barreling at the poised and sharp-eyed Luperci. He couldn't toy around or play tripping games; talons ground at the dirt suddenly, launching his two legs forward in rivaling speed against Gabriel as the Aquila's erupted in sound and ferocity. The cyclops emitted no noise, expression but a hawk-eyed stared and a tight, determined frown. When the two met, he planted strength into the earth by balancing his entire form on his toes of his right foot, spinning his body at an angle in one motion and thus lining himself parallel with the running opposite at the last possible second. One arm still calmly in its sling, the hybrid lashed the other at the male's head, fingers outstretched but talons recessed, fully intent on capturing the creature's skull in his grasp. Gabriel was fast; it was unclear to Jefferson that connecting with the man would be a challenge, but if he was able to contain his head for just a single second, the advantage would be his: in one, quick motion, a flick of the wrist would reveal the man's neck, and a well-trained axe kick would knock the soul out cold. However, such close proximity left him vulnerable; the green eye of the cyclops was relentlessly watching for that danger.

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#17
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Maybe have Jefferson grab Gabriel's scruff and get that kick off in his shoulder?

     They were both unstoppable, immovable. Domination belonged to their wolfish blood, to the masculine desire to prove superiority. No longer were they throwing around rank or title, age or birthright. This was experience, skill, and nothing beyond the warfare of defense and aggression. They had to defend their family, their pack, their honor. They needed nothing more then to see each other bruised and bloodied by the end of this.
     Gabriel saw the hand coming at him and jerked suddenly, grazing the sensation of the wolf’s fingertips. He felt them on his neck and withers and knew he was risking losing his ground. Teeth opened and snapped wildly, for the arm, for the torso, for whatever it was they could connect with.


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#18
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He could land a kick since I allowed Gabe to get his arm.
He missed; the snarling Aquila slipped between his fingers. The demon was quick, much quicker than Jefferson himself, but the one-eyed Patriarch knew nothing of giving up. Fighting off the blind rage that usually took over in combat, Jefferson was inevitably distracted. The last thing he needed was to go completely mad in that rage and make Inferni matters somehow worse (and on top of it, forget what had happened). Distractions took their course; Gabriel's jaws clamped down on the thickness of his arm, but no sound came to the Patriarch's throat. Had the Aquila attached to the still arm in the sling along his chest, matters would have been much worse, but wounds in his good arm were tolerable. Though unable to break the clamp of his teeth against his burning flesh, Jefferson twisted away and, as Gabriel was mostly unable to jump away, raised his opposite leg and prepared his heel for one fell drop on the beast.


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#19
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Playing as we discussed, with Jefferson hitting Gabe's bad shoulder. You can either reply or close this. And I'm not sure if this would be a draw or loss for Gabe, lol. XD

     The Aquila landed his mark, and his jaws locked down. Though he did not intend to break the arm, if he could, then things would be over. He tasted blood and his ears went flat against his head, fur between his shoulders up and on end. It was a position that left him open though—all too suddenly a powerful kick struck the hybrid in his shoulder. Twisted, scarred muscle caught fire, and the pain was so intense that Gabriel’s jaws unlocked and he scrambled away from the Patriarch, putting no weight on his forearm.
     He got out of range, one leg in the air, head low, panting heavily, mouth red with blood. Baring his teeth in a vicious display, he then turned and began to make his way away from the wolf. It was a slow process as he was unable to put any weight on his foreleg, but Gabriel refused to leave himself open for attack while taking the time to turn to his Optime form.

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