A Life Once Lost ~ Joining

Jefferson Soul · 04-02-2011, 12:48 PM

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YAY IT'S GARRETT!!! And hoo boy, this is going to be interesting... Small bit of PP, let me know if it's not okay. ^^

He had chosen one of AniWaya's horses to return with this time, finally giving the Valley stallion he had been using a break from the three-hour trek across the continent. Sure, the one-eyed idiot had been feeding it well, rewarding it extra for its efforts and taking care to keep it hydrated and healthy. The stallion, whose name he did not even know, had been one of the few survivors when the barn collapsed in the snowstorm back in February, and the only horse to not take any injuries that would making such long trips difficult. In fact, the black stallion seemed to thoroughly enjoy it; had the dumb horse been any smarter, surely he would have known what terribly company Jefferson was, but the cyclops figured it was its nut-sized brain that convinced it Jefferson was the best damn thing to have come around in a long time.

However, the AniWayan stallion he'd taken seemed to tire out much more quickly, and so the cyclops paused around Halifax and began walking the poor, panting thing the remainder of the trek to the Valley. He didn't mind; spring was beginning to show itself and the air had started to shift to warmer temperatures, finally blessing his scars peace from their stinging all the winter months. The AniWayan horse was grateful, especially since Jefferson didn't plan to stay in the Valley long before hurrying back to the tribe to meet with Dawali. The brute hated running the two packs, hated the idiotic treks back and forth across the mainland, but it was owed. Their alliance was friendly and strong and Jefferson had great respect for the wounded Dawali... he just hoped the Kalona would recover soon.

A familiar scent caught his attention as they pulled out of Halifax, bordering on Valley land; he paused the horse and breathed in the air, puzzled as recognition set in. Domonick, again? The brute had been sure the idiot was long gone this time, but the dark-furred boy wouldn't have hung around Valley land for nothing. The man followed the scent, walking the horse, and his steps grew faster as the smell lingered with the reek of blood.

Under a tree the man found him, pale-faced and weak, blood seeping from his arm and dripping from the blade held in his other hand. All that stood at his throat and shoulders flared; no compassion swept over him, but a mixture of sheer anger for Domonick's clear stupidity and worry for what had happened — though muted by the anger, of course.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" the Patriarch snapped, green eye blaring its glow. Throwing away the stallion's reins, the scarred man stormed closed and in one fell swoop, snatched the blade from Domonick's fingers; he gingerly tossed it aside, then reached his single arm and grabbed the former Praeas at the throat of his shirt, more lifting the man to his feet than pulling him up.

"Get up, get the fuck up," he roared. "What the hell is wrong with you, Domonick?! Is this the goddamn reason you deserted the Valley, to lay around like a coward?!"

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