geneva. <3
The past few weeks had been unsurprisingly overwhelming for the Patriarch. He had barely made time for himself at all; each time he tried to hide away in the ranch like he had done for months on end, he was interrupted in one way or another. DaVinci stopped by rather often with whatever concerns or questions he had to discuss, not to mention pack members had learned that he could be easily cornered there for whatever they wanted. In addition, Addison had found refuge there in the ranch house with him under his watchful eye and care, and there was always something she needed, he realized. Whether the pup was hungry, sick, or simply wanting some other type of miscellaneous attention, she always ran to the one-eyed brute and demanded something from him. With the pack slowly beginning to grow again, more and more was being demanded of him day by day, though he'd already grown used to that. But with the recent loss of Iskata, he still found himself stiff and cold to most, hardly wanting to deal with anyone at all.
Before he'd been thrown into Phoenix Valley's highest position, he had commonly hunted down a book that looked interesting from the ranch's small library within the walls and made his way to the rocking chair by the fire. He had a hard time reading, still, but had dedicated himself at one point to learning how to read more fluently. Jefferson had come to believe that his amnesia had somehow wiped out the ability, since remnants in his brain recognized the most random of words and connected them to memories he could not quite identify, thus growing to believe that he'd been able to read once. It was strange that he'd forgotten, and the brute regretted losing his memory for the sake of reading almost as much as he wished he could remember his own family.
The afternoon was a particularly slow one, for whatever reason. The clouds had broken into a downpour outside, thus possibly keeping his underlings indoors and out of his hair, at least for a few hours. Addison was passed out in the bedroom, or so he assumed; he'd directly told her not to leave the ranch while it was raining, and she normally followed directions when presented to her so sternly. He'd sparked a fire in the hearth as always, retrieved a book from the library, and sat down in the rocking chair pleasantly. Jefferson looked forward to reading so comfortably as he had months before, without another worry in the world, but that didn't seem to be the case. Instead, the brute's single eye fluttered and his head tipped back, jowls parted only slightly as he remained in an unexpected rest. Once asleep, he characterized a picture of peace rather simply: the beast's threatening composure seemed to erase considering how gentle he appeared; the countless scars he bore on his skin became meager papercuts instead, as if his whole body was temporarily cleaned of some sort of sin or ordeal. The book in his single hand tilted away from his grasp, dwindling over his scarred and destroyed fingertips atop his knee.