warrant a name

[Jefferson Soul]

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cercelee my love! wc404 -- Over the years and especially after his leg was mauled up, Jefferson had noticed that he'd unconsciously enabled himself to sense the weather as if he were an dying old man in a rocking chair, looking out over his pasture. The sad part of it was, whether it was sunshine or storming, his gimpy leg was gimpy and in pain either way. The only way he could tell if rain was a-coming was the type of pain that shot through; unfortunately there was no real relief either way when it came to the pain, put simply. Sometimes it hurt more than usual, sometimes it rained more than predicted. Jefferson had always scoffed at the thought of being a weatherman, but at this point it was something he'd probably been able to do pretty well. Besides, all the youthful exploration he'd done before his fouled up leg heeded it had given him the experience of cloud and weather patterns anyway, and ever since he'd become pretty used to it and the act of weather prediction had become nothing more than an unconscious knowledge that the male didn't really take him to think about anymore. Oh well. However, torrential rain and clouds had been pouring throughout the morning, and as noontime approached, the male was not only soaked and grumpy again as a result, but also lost now that his scent had been washed out ten times over and he was nowhere near his packlands. The thought of being a pack member was still foreign to him; what was the name of his pack again? Jefferson had sort of accepted the invitation on impulse, considering that even if he didn't want to croak of starvation, fate wasn't really his decision and the effort to keep on living was something he'd had to start looking after. The rain had started again, but considering the hybrid was already soaked and too gimpy to "run" for shelter, he sat with a large, miserable scowl in the downpour and watched the raindrops stir at the pondwater as he sat on its edge. The Loas had found a twig and was again chewing on it out of habit and as a frustration relief, and before long his emaciated body had started to shake from the cold. Miserable little beast, he knew he was, but shrugged it off. Jefferson chomped on his branch, shook, and stared one-eyed into the rippling water below.

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