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Hello! And thanks for fixing up your post! ^^ Edit: GWEN WHY ARE YOU SO FAST
His previous visit to Hill of Graves had been with Jantus and his posse. Jefferson had been their escort through Phoenix Valley land—Jantus, a fellow cyclops, was kind enough to ask his permission before leading his group of vagrants into trespassing—and Jefferson fell into the unnoticed shadows of the background as their funeral began. It was not a long service but one they found hopelessly necessary; Skoll was a memorable individual, it seemed, and his many survivors had spoken of him kindly. Jefferson, the monster he was, hardly considered himself anything so noble and memorable, but refused to fret on the subject. He was a sinner, after all, deserving of no praise from dead or alive. He had been a stain in that funeral party, unfitting in his imperfections, a blotch of red on a canvas of white.
The cemetery was overwhelmingly depressing, however, and he had little intentions of remaining there. The cyclops had simply stumbled upon it while cutting through the forest; a differing scent in the air caught his attention now (though it didn't take much, the patch of graves smelled blatantly of dirt and dead). The scent belonged to a stranger but the cyclops moved in no hurry, his limp slowing him as always. From the brush he emerged before her, grim-faced and scarred head to toe as always. He glanced quickly at the Whilom, a brow raising briefly—"Oh, Geneva,"—before glancing back at the stranger, getting to the point. "Who are you?" the Patriarch said, thinning his eye, his tone mildly impatient.