There was a tenseness in Heath's stance, an unease between both he and the accompanying horse. Jefferson had ventured to Cour des Miracles with intended innocence; he, as always, carried no weapons and brought none with him, making the short journey by foot rather than horseback. The glow of his eye was devoid of the typical darkness he was known for, and even he himself knew that he had changed since they'd last met. Much had happened since then -- not only had he had plenty of time to muse over the concept of being a father, but he'd watched Addison grow, blossom, and eventually leave as well. He'd wanted to hold her there in Phoenix Valley forever where he could keep a close eye on the girl, but in time Jefferson learned better: Parents could raise their children and forward the knowledge from their experiences onto them, but they could never stop them from living their own lives.
And he had become close to Geneva, too. When Heath and his siblings had stood before him, the cyclops had never known true love, only vaguely understanding what they had missed with an absent father through his experience with Addison. It dawned on him later that it was no one's fault he hadn't been there for the three and the blame was shifted away from himself, but the guilt was all the same. It was his own fault their family had been both created and destroyed, even if he couldn't remember any of it. The cyclops dipped his head. "Where are your siblings?" the cyclops mumbled, oddly humbled that he was made to ask such questions. He was never fit to be a father, Heath knew that. Out of anyone, his children knew that best. "There is a war to the north," Jefferson said, raising his voice back to its normal level and reasserting himself as a leader. Straightening himself, the cyclops looked his son in the eye unafraid. "I came to speak with the leaders here. My pack is neutral, and I came to see if we had allies or enemies here if something happened. I know nothing of the people here."