03-01-2011, 05:33 PM
Geneva Stockholm's life had unraveled in the storm that had stolen much of her pack's security and comfort, but life was beginning to resume at a shaky yet steadying pace. She busied herself as often as she could; luckily, there were plenty of opportunities for her to put her hands to work. She had concentrated mostly on maintaining a safe head quarters for the pack, a common place where they could find shelter, commune with each other and the leadership, and find supplies. She sometimes felt that whenever she made some headway in the old church that she was falling behind in other areas, but she knew that there was merit in ensuring that there was a safe haven for their pack. She also wanted to make certain that her mate and her son had a safe place to stay as well.
Jefferson worried her endlessly, although she hadn't said anything to him yet. After the initial shock of finding him further injured and disabled had worn off, she had had little time to talk to him about the effect that the damage was undoubtedly having on the one-eyed male. It was hard to find a quiet moment, when some member wasn't going in and out of the old, heavy wooden doors of St. Augustine's, or she wasn't called out to speak to someone. Much weighed heavily on the gray female's mind. Not only did she deal with the devastation of the storm; she also had the terrible crime against Jace Wolfe to consider, and justice to seek.
The woman's olive colored eyes traced the patterns of light that the stained glass windows cast against the walls, a filter for the already muted and dim winter sun. For the moment, she busied herself folding different, previously tattered lengths of linen and other various materials that she had found strewn about the Villa town. She had mended them and sewn them together to the best of her ability, making certain that there was a way for Valley pack members to keep warm when the wet wood from outside could not sustain a fire. There was so much to do; she only wished she knew that best way to do it all.
Jefferson worried her endlessly, although she hadn't said anything to him yet. After the initial shock of finding him further injured and disabled had worn off, she had had little time to talk to him about the effect that the damage was undoubtedly having on the one-eyed male. It was hard to find a quiet moment, when some member wasn't going in and out of the old, heavy wooden doors of St. Augustine's, or she wasn't called out to speak to someone. Much weighed heavily on the gray female's mind. Not only did she deal with the devastation of the storm; she also had the terrible crime against Jace Wolfe to consider, and justice to seek.
The woman's olive colored eyes traced the patterns of light that the stained glass windows cast against the walls, a filter for the already muted and dim winter sun. For the moment, she busied herself folding different, previously tattered lengths of linen and other various materials that she had found strewn about the Villa town. She had mended them and sewn them together to the best of her ability, making certain that there was a way for Valley pack members to keep warm when the wet wood from outside could not sustain a fire. There was so much to do; she only wished she knew that best way to do it all.