wc456
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There was a sort of charm that the Raven Beacon possessed; it was probably bypassed and belittled more often than not, but regardless, the old lighthouse had always stood rather defiantly against the sky as it watched over its fleeting pack like some sort of cemented guardian. Its light had long since shone, its walls had long since been housing. Nowadays it simply stood and watched, as if waiting for something to happen, but the stone guardian would be of no help. It was inconveniently out of the way, and it was a curious thought if its light actually worked anymore. As far as Jefferson knew, it wasn't--but for the most part, it hadn't been particularly needed, either. After all, he was the one in charge of emergencies, and he wasn't about to go limping halfway across the territory to climb some spiraling staircases and flick on a light that might not even work. Hell, would anyone even realize a spinning light meant danger, anyway? What else would they use it for--boats? What boats?
Nonetheless, Jefferson knew of the qualities that the old lighthouse stood for, and he respected them despite its lack of use. It wasn't a totally useless thing, having a lighthouse in the territory... they only had a number of buildings throughout the territory--the ranch and barn, a couple cottages, the rickety mill nobody really dared near... Needless to say, he didn't retreat to the lighthouse very often, but it was a welcome little release from his normal responsibilities and duties. Of course, he took probably too many of those little get-aways from his subleader work, but more of than not, it went unnoticed anyway. He wasn't slacking off--he just needed time to himself.
It was a small surprise to find another reclining near the beacon's building--more than reclining, really, she was sprawled out on the ground. She'd kicked up some snow and was covered in an unpleasant mixture of snow, grass, and slush... Jefferson stopped short when he saw her, a rather perplexed, one-eyed look set down upon her as he tried to sort out this strange mystification of a pack member. Right, he'd allowed her in a few days earlier or something. What was her name? Hell, there'd been so many of these wolves wanting entry lately that he was losing track, and, well, he was okay with that. The hybrid decided maybe he should just let her be, and thus cleared his throat dismissively and limped on past, aiming towards the beacon's cozy little building. However, he found himself stopping beside her anyway, green eye affixed on her, gruffly perplexed. "I take it you're enjoying the new land," he muttered, and quickly turned and continued on his way up the path.
