There were many changes in the works, many winds of change blowing through the bulk of Phoenix Valley, and yet the unknowing members went about their duties in a state of blissful indifference and ignorance. Conversations with Razekiel had risen to a daily occurrence, and it was while he was with the pot-smoking coyote that the summoning howl reached his tattered ears, and with a typical gruff excusing of himself from Razekiel's presence, the Patriarch stepped through the creaking porch door and set out for his typical duties, knowing well it would be one of the last times he would be performing them.
Would he miss it? Perhaps, but his time was nearly finished. He had no regrets.
Jefferson came upon them at a leisurely pace, two-legged as opposed to their four-legged forms. He might have shifted for their sakes in the past, but he would not, now: Though he had once been able to limp with four legs, with one limb having been removed, the cyclops refused to shame himself with hobbling like a pitiful idiot.
"I was summoned?" he said flatly, single eye scouring the stranger up and down. Would she fit Razekiel's plans? He dare not mention what was in store for they, not yet. "My name is Jefferson," he continued, "I assume you're looking to stay here."
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