bottle of red, bottle of white

[Jefferson Soul]

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The cyclops had known all along that Razekiel had originated in Inferni one way or another, but the leader was not so stubborn to believe that all claiming the Lykoi name had to be bad. In fact, Jefferson was rather fond of a few of them; the one-eyed idiot had saved Kaena's life, she who was the matriarch of the name, though he had not heard from her since, and Razekiel was slowly growing on him. The one-armed man would never forget the night he rescued Addison from the red-eyed Halo Lykoi, however, and like the Poer family, he accepted that they had their ups and downs. Certainly most of the Sadiras he'd met, the family he'd been born into as a Soul, were inherently good — Iskata, Kansas, Mew — but his half-brother Haku had been under their name as well.

Razekiel seemed to have fixed within himself whatever wrongs his parents had tried to breed into him as a Lykoi child, or so the Patriarch believed. Turning to look up at him, the cyclops stared rather indifferently at the small chickadee that had come to land on the coyote's shoulder, silent and seemingly unnoticed by Razekiel altogether. Jefferson snorted; he could not bring himself to imagine a coy like Razekiel doing anyone harm, but the Patriarch knew better than to trust too soon.

A tattered ear twitched, and he spoke flatly. "What do you know about leading a pack?"