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drinking wine made for disaster
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They were related, all right, but that relationship meant little to Jefferson. DaVinci and Iskata had not been the extreme Haku was now, but to Jefferson--who had never wanted to lead a pack in the first place, and at first knew nothing about charisma or having so many depend on him--it had been an overwhelming process, keeping the subleader in line while his mother wasted away in depression. Jefferson hadn't known what to do. Still in his mind, he believed he was not supposed to be there leading a pack, serving only as a placeholder until someone else came along or until he chose the pack needed disbanding. So far he was not considering either option, and now that DaVinci had moved on to do his own things, Phoenix Valley had calmed again to the point that Jefferson actually felt capable of managing it.
When it came to Haku, the Patriarch could only be grateful he hadn't been in Cercelee's position. They had fought, not long ago, when Jefferson came to talk him out of the war at Dahlian borders. Perhaps the cyclops had seen it coming, or at least he had not counted out the possibility of it happening. "Half-brothers," he nodded, gaze distracted. "Had I known the war would get this bad, I might have gotten more involved with stopping him, but I doubt it would have made much difference. I don't know if we had a relationship when we were young, but there isn't one now. I don't consider him my brother, not what he is now."
His ear twitched as he fell silent briefly, then turned an earnest green eye back to the Aquila. "How is Ryan? Zana?" Ryan was one of few Inferni he cared for, and with the disappearance of DaVinci, he didn't know what to expect. Zana, on the other hand, he didn't know what to think of at all.
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