note taking

[Jefferson Soul]

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http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g210/ ... parrow.png);background-position:bottom;background-repeat:no-repeat;"> wc317 -- 'Cushioned life'. Hah, far from it. Any well-knowing creature who had simply seen Jefferson limp on by knew he had never been 'cushioned' in his life, or as far as he could remember. His earliest memory was waking up coated in blood, head throbbing, and lying uncomfortably on sand and gravel near some sort of abandoned warehouse. The snow was heavy and coated his pelt rather thickly--he'd been out for hours. He didn't know how he'd gotten there, who he was, or if he'd somehow resurrected from the dead. Some of his worst scars woke up with him--his eye and was untouched at the time, thankfully, but some of the worst scars on his chest and back oozed and stung. A chain fence loomed over him--T. H. Jefferson Corporations, it read. The ink was faded from sunlight and hanging only halfway on the fence. The brute hadn't known how to read well, but could recognize the characters and slowly put them together--he'd known how to read once, but the amnesia forced him to teach himself again. The brute could not rise from the ground there--he stared at the sign for hours, unable to move, until he could read the words. He became Jefferson that day. "No," he said grimly. "I know how to smile. There are kids in this pack... they have to be protected by someone." The hybrid's green eye stared forward stolidly, unmovingly. "I take my job seriously for that reason. Not everyone can be trusted." He wasn't trustworthy once, and he knew it. His behavior nowadays was no ways of reflection, no terms of compensating for past sins--he'd killed, he'd slaughtered. There was no making up for that. "When you kill someone," He said slowly, after a broad pause, "you don't always learn that life is short and full of sunshine. You learn it sucks and you have to fight for those who don't realize it yet."

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