salvation à la mode

Jefferson Soul · 07-09-2010, 08:21 PM

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She curled herself around the pup, the dual pair of eyes staring into him expectantly. At first her words hardly reached his ears; his thoughts clouded them instead, curious why a child had been allowed into the pack without his knowledge, without his permission. He had awarded Geneva the power to accept members, yes, but a pup so young? Hell, he looked hardly older than Addison when Jefferson had found her—his heart twisted suddenly, the cyclops inwardly scolding himself for neglecting to check in on her. Addison had been absent from his life for quite some time now, and like most of everything else that had been important to him, she'd been forgotten and abandoned altogether as well.

But this boy was not Addison, and it was then that Jefferson chose to hear Geneva's words. No alarm struck his face, no emotion seemed to pass his scarred and broken features at all; Jefferson chose to dismiss her utterings as sheer nonsense. Did she think this a joke? Was she trying to rage a war, find the means for revenge against him, against the fact that he had once rescued her from certain death? The cyclops stiffened, hardened; he did not understand what he had done to be worth such abuse, but Jefferson was hardly going to stand and take it.

"You think this is funny?" he growled, green eye piercing. His shoulders hung and his entire two-legged frame seemed to sag with an unsaid heaviness; he seemed tired, worn. The darkness that struck his face was legitimate, however, but lacking the true forcefulness he had once been so terribly known for possessing. He had opened the prospect of arguing, but suddenly found himself unwilling to. Resigned, the brute shook his head, then staggered a few steps and ran scarred fingers through his hair. "Leave me alone," the cyclops muttered, wary. It had been a long time since he had said those words to her.

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