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cercelee my love!
wc404
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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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[html] ”You’re wet...” Cercelee’s melodic voice had spoken the obvious, but it had been the only thing that had come to mind when she had stumbled across the male. Of course, with the down pour, she was soaked through as well, but the male’s appearance, so pitiful that it was, made Cercelee think that maybe the male felt the water more than she did. Or maybe he didn’t notice it at all. His figure had drawn her to him, lean (too lean), only one eye that told the brain what he was seeing, and shaking. Most of all, it was his scowl. Unhappy creature it seemed, and something about that sparked something in Cercelee’s heart. Seeing that scowl from a distance had spurred her legs into motion, she wanted to be near him, to see if that scowl was set in stone or if she could transform it. From the other’s perspective she had probably appeared out of seemingly no where, although it had seemed like a long time to her in coming up to him. She might be the mirror image of a demon from the past, but her personality was that of an angel, if somewhat a whimsical angel.
“I’d hate to see you catch a cold mister, perhaps we should find a spot of shelter and dry off, the both of us?” Why she so openly invited a stranger to spend time with her, she was unsure, they had yet to exchange names, which was the first thing one normally did when meeting a new person, but Cercelee didn’t always play by the rules, still, she didn’t expect others to break them so easily. “Unless you can’t go anywhere with strangers, in that case, my name is Cer.” Cercelee smiled hesitantly, prepared for any number of snide remarks. This encounter was not what she had envisioned when she had set out that morning, for merely what she assumed was a walk away from the pack lands, but once she had started, Cer couldn’t keep her mouth from going.
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cercelee is cute :3
wc364
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He'd been particularly lost in spinning thoughts when she suddenly came upon him, nearly stopping his already struggling heart in the process. His fur jumped on end and his shoulders flew up before giving the white female the most bewildered one-eyed stare she could have possibly ever seen from a creature in his condition. Briefly he gaped at her before rolling his eye and releasing a loud, exasperated sigh of relief to the ground. "Criminy," he muttered, hastily trying to collect himself, "you nearly scared me out of my skin." Wouldn't have been hard--all he pretty much had left was skin. But when he turned his soaked, one-eyed glance back to her, emotions subsided as he realized she looked vaguely familiar--but the name didn't ring a bell. Cercelee? Why did she look like someone he couldn't remember?
Family, perhaps? They were all clouded out, after all.
"Uh," he stuttered, thrown off guard by both her face and unusually friendly temperament, "sure, I guess..." Something had called out to him to see more into this Cercelee; whether it was her appearance or nonchalance didn't seem to matter. It was rare--or it had been rare--for folks to approach him with no apparent underlying reasons other than sheer friendliness. Most strangers he had met as a loner mocked his skeleton-like frame or attacked him; others pitied him, but usually left him behind later on anyway. He'd grown used to it after a while, but still a nagging feeling possessed him in the presence of the white stranger. New changes had abound since his entry into a pack, and it seemed such changes weren't stopping anytime soon. "Jefferson," he grunted as he made his way off his haunches, holding his waned leg above the ground as always but shuffling a bit so she wouldn't stare at it like all the rest. "You're not a loner... are you?" His voice was still relatively low, obviously still unaware of the territories and packs neighboring Phoenix Valley despite the many scents he could just barely pick up in the rain. It would have been nice to meet a fellow loner--though he couldn't call it 'fellow' anymore.
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[html] Sorry that it took me a while. School is bogging me down and I’ve been playing... video games XD
The surprise that registered on the male’s face and in his voice amused Cer, but she suppressed the laughter, the last thing she would want was for this male to think that she was laughing at him. Which she wasn’t, at least anymore than she was laughing at herself. Sheepishly she smiled at him, wagging her tail apologetically, she hadn’t meant to frighten him, although sneaking up on people and catching them unaware was a fine use of time. Please, keep your skin on. I like you better that way. Cercelee kept her navy eyes fixated to the male as he hesitantly agreed to her proposal, and she nodded cheerfully, as if to reassure him that he had made the correct choice.
Nice to meet you Jefferson, I think I remember an old dug out den a little bit north of here, if you don’t mind the walk. Cercelee turned towards her intended direction, pleased with herself now that all her seemingly meaningless executions and memorization of the neutral territories served a purpose. She knew where the closest dry spot was, if it was not already claimed in this torrent. Ears perked at his question, it seemed particular to her, to want to know if she was a loner or not. Would her answer change the opinion this male had of her? Shrugging, she answered him, her two clear eyes making contact with his one. No, not a loner. I live in Dahlia de Mai, west of here. Cercelee smiled, glad to be sure of her standing in the pack again. While staying in Twilight Vale she hadn’t feel confident to tell others where she hailed from. And what about you? You smell of Phoenix Valley, have they taken you in? Cercelee had become accustomed to the newer’s pack scent now, though she had yet to visit the lands, and probably would put off any social calls for a while yet.
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wc361
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The other packs and territories that neighbored Phoenix Valley were intriguing to him; there was so much left in this new land to explore and investigate, but his broken-up leg held him back as always. The concept of exploration was perpetually an exciting one to the four-year-old, and having lost that ability was something he regretted most in his years as a loner. Had his leg been in normal condition, he may not have ended up in Phoenix Valley. He might not even be anywhere near where he was at that moment, as the hybrid always let his legs carry him where they wanted to go. It seemed all for the best, in the end; life was beginning to work itself out for him after four years trying. Pieces of puzzles were slowly being placed together--clear memories had yet to respawn, but it seemed that wherever he landed there was something vaguely familiar in the area, whether it was Iskata's kindness or even Cercelee's face, which he had yet to piece out completely. He staggered after her when she started away to the den, grateful to get out of the downpouring rain but as always poised for attack. After years as a loner, it was something he'd unconsciously adopted and never let go.
"Yeah, I guess so," he responded mellowly, thoughts spinning and unfocused on his words. "I collapsed on their borders on accident and one of the leaders took pity. I've never done the 'pack' thing before now, so it's a change." His eye meandered. He was grateful for Phoenix Valley's approval, but had yet to fully adjust to meeting and 'befriending' strangers in his pack. The idea of a lasting friendship--or better yet, seeing faces more than once--was a little hard to get accustomed to, but regardless the male was slowly beginning to really enjoy his time there. How he ended up in a place like this, well, his love for exploration was at fault. "Dahlia de Mai... never heard of it. This whole area's new to me." He shrugged his shoulders shamelessly and sighed. There was far too much to learn, and hardly the motivation to learn it.
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Cercelee listened as she silently lead him to the den, keeping his pace so not to push him. Although his speech ended before they got to the den, Cercelee did not reply, not yet. It was only after she found the den, made sure no fresh scents (or worse yet, any living beings) were present, and entered, glancing behind her shoulder to make sure the male followed. Inside was dry and although not quite warm, warmer than the outside had been. Cercelee shook her fur out, freeing as much of the water clinging to her pelt as she could and took a seat, her tail wrapping easily around her haunches. The den was large enough that if a luperci entered fully shifted they would have to duck their head or sit down, but in her unshifted form she could stand and turn about easily.
The den’s not much, I wish it was a bit bigger, but at least we can stay dry here. Cercelee waited for the male to settle himself until she continued. You needn’t worry about knowing too much around here, I’ve been here for months and I still don’t know much, at least about the other packs. I do alright. Cercelee was not an introverted type of character, but so focused on Dahlia de Mai and her members there, she hadn’t much time for other packs. Twilight Vale had been like a second home to her, and she knew the members there well enough, but they were gone and thus did not count any longer. Where’d you come from before finding us? I mean, you have to have come from somewhere, right? Although if someone was to ask Cercelee the same question, she wouldn’t have a straight answer, her home had never been settled before Dahlia de Mai.
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wc245
For whatever reason, the sarcastic old gimp was more than grateful for some dry space. He followed the white-trimmed female with his limp uncharacteristically and unintentionally quickened (and thus, more of a hassle to walk upon). The warmth and dry air were an instant relief as he limped in from the rain, taking only a brief moment to wrestle the rainwater from his pelt before stumbling a step or two to the wall and collapsing there onto his stomach. Green eye disappeared briefly and jowls clamped, awaiting for the biting pain within his leg to subside from the sudden overuse. "Thanks," he panted grimly and heaved an exhausted sigh.
He hated when questions about his life arose; the beaten up hybrid had nothing real to offer for storytelling about himself. His stories were always derived from creatures he'd seen or heard about--majestic, sometimes heroic tales he'd learned on his loner escapades throughout the lands that made excellent bedtime stories for youngsters (an opportunity rarely delivered to a one-eyed, emaciated bag of skin and bones). His eye peeked up at her from his pathetically reserved position on the ground, before a snort arose from his nose. "A loner," he mumbled rather grumpily. "Always been one. Still am one, I think. Been everywhere on this leg and back and it still hurts like hell. Stay in your pack, if you know what's good for you." He smirked towards the end, but tried to cast it away quickly.
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Cercelee smiled politely at the male. Always a loner? Cercelee couldn’t quite believe that, because one had to come from a mother and at that point they weren’t really a loner, were they? Yet she didn’t quite feel like arguing semantics and she doubted Jefferson would appreciate any nit picking at the conversation. Must have been lonely. And it would have been, even though Cercelee had been a loner, she had never been one for long. Cercelee found that she craved companionship, or at least the company of others, even if she wasn’t in any way attached to them. Anything to keep her from stumbled along by herself for too long. Wandering off was alright, so long as she knew that she had a home with others to return to.
I don’t think my pack would let me leave if I tried. Although that wasn’t completely the truth. Cercelee knew she would be met with protests but out right refusal to let her go? Maybe they wouldn’t mind it so much if I left them a leader in my place. Cercelee didn’t like to refer to her rank outside of the pack, unless conversing directly about pack politics with other leaders, but she in a way she wanted to explain why she didn’t have the freedom to just up and leave. In an odd way, however, it made her feel safe to be needed, even if only Slay and Mew felt any emotional attachment to her. Do you wish to still be a loner? The thought was strange, if Cercelee didn’t have Dahlia de Mai she wasn’t sure where she would go, but she was sure she would find another place to settle.
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wc457
Did he still wish to be a loner? He wasn't sure. In his mind he still was one, having failed to really develop some relationships in his pack thus far, other than that of an unusually unbiased friendship with Iskata. He still felt quite a bit estranged, standing as a stranger in a land full of apparent chaos and relations he'd never seen before, and it seemed Jefferson felt like the basic puzzle piece being fit into the wrong puzzle. He couldn't complain. Phoenix Valley was a good place for him, he decided--he wanted to avoid troublesome packmates and the like, and for the most part the pack was very easygoing and small (or as far as he knew). He had befriended but one of the leaders--the other two were either scarce to find or completely mistrusted his crossbred blood--and the few other faces he'd met thus far were not of his pack. For some reason, he found it hardly possible to count the immature Pendzez as a companion just yet, as the two seemed to derive of completely opposite backgrounds. Jefferson was the loner in his own pack, climbing the ranks without noticing but finding it necessary to still perform what 'duties' he had as of now, whether it be rooting out the foreign scents looming within packlands or seeing to patroling the borders. He was a bit lazy at it, yes, but Jefferson had never really partook in a 'duty' before.
A shrug. The fact that she was a leader meant very little to him. Iskata could have easily vouched for the hybrid in that he 'censored himself for no one', be it a leader or a runt. Those breathing were all the same. "I didn't end up in the pack on purpose. I'd still be a loner otherwise." His eye averted, but not shamefully. The subject seemed of such little interest. "The pack's small and harmless. If someone attacked it, I doubt we'd be able to defend ourselves." He couldn't fight yet, but once he had some meat on his bones, he'd be back to his old legacy in no time, gimpy leg or no gimpy leg. "It's comfortable, having a place to go back to. I don't mind it--easier to eat when you can't hunt too well on your own." He was a pathetic soul, he knew. He only wished to be of more service to the pack, but what would a gimpy old crab do? "Hell if I'd ever end up in a position of power like that one, but there are plenty of changes that could be had. Though, the leaders have their own business to work at, it seems. No skin off my bones if the pack disbands at some point."
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[html] Mmmm... Cercelee tilted her head at the male, unsure if she would push the question further, for he seemed to speak honestly. His line of thinking was so far from Cer’s own however that it was hard for her to imagine feeling such a way. If Dahlia disbanded, Cer would be devastated, not because her pack had failed (and thus as their leader she had failed) but because Dahlia de Mai was the only home she had ever truly chosen for herself and come to love. The members of Dahlia de Mai were her friends and family rolled into one as far as she was concerned and she loved them all, even those that she did not particularly get along with at times. To be disassociated from them and to uncaring of the pack’s fate was an odd thought. Perhaps though, in time he could come to change his mind.
Sometimes the things we do that aren’t on purpose end up to be the best for us. Cercelee hadn’t meant to help Colibri start up Dahlia de Mai, and though Colibri was gone she had left the female with something so meaningful to the almost two year. Or maybe fate didn’t work that way for everyone and Jefferson would end alone again, if Phoenix Valley did disband. It had happened to enough packs before, it could happen to any of them, members streamed in and out of the lands so easily nothing was stable for long. I doubt you’ll have to worry about defense too much, so long as Phoenix Valley doesn’t pick any bones with the other packs. Dahlia de Mai did have a scuffle with Inferni, but we all lived. The hunting is a nice perk to packs though. Cercelee smiled pleasantly, though she hunts mostly on her own now she could see how certain members of packs did benefit from the hunting of other members, the Twilight Vale members had kept her fed when she was too injured to hunt on her own. Mmm, so how’s Iskata for a leader anyway? I suppose you’ve met her by now? It was possible he hadn’t, Cercelee knew that Phoenix Valley had other leaders, she just didn’t know who they were. Cercelee also knew her question could be taken as rude, but she asked in all innocence, she didn’t mind how others thought of her.
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The debut of my new table! I love it.
wc289
escape is never the safest path
She was right. His couple years spent as a loner had been full of pain and misery, but in the end had shaped the hybrid into who he was now. His memories were long gone, therefore his character was carved simply from the actions and the experiences he witnessed over the past few years; while he had a certain level of disrespect for himself and his fretful behavior at times, Jefferson knew that he had become a good person deep down. His level of clairvoyance and judgment was a few steps higher than most due to the sense of empathy he possessed--in nearly all aspects of a life, he had been there at one point. He was thankful for that, but... was it really worth the clouded memories? The lack of self-knowledge? But that was what he had Phoenix Valley for, wasn't it? ...To learn more about himself, and to explore the possibilities--like why Cercelee seemed so familiar, yet different entirely. He cared more for his pack than he gave himself credit for, inevitably.
Iskata... "She is a good leader," he replied after a pause, eye turning to look up at her quietly. There was no farce in his words, not a hint of sarcasm; he'd unintentionally developed quite a respect for the leader, unlike the others in his pack, most of whom he'd hardly learned about thus far. "A good soul. Honest. Troubled. Deserves better than she's been getting." His eye strayed again and an ear flicked. Suddenly, Jefferson felt so... raw and exposed, like he was being seen through. He detested such a feeling. "I respect her as a leader, and that's something I'd never thought I'd say." A long pause, before his gaze returned, rather skeptically: "Why?"
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Cercelee nodded in confirmation of Jefferson’s words. His description of Iskata’s leadership matched what Cercelee had assumed. Although she had only met the female twice, she had learned a lot of the older women, more than she had really wished to know. Cercelee knew that Iskata did not fully agree with all of Cercelee’s decisions in leading Dahlia de Mai, such as having Haku as her co-leader, and undoubtedly Cercelee would make changes in Phoenix Valley if she reigned there, but part of her had to respect Iskata. Iskata’s nothing if not honest. It was Iskata’s tendency to share her opinions, whether wanted or not, with Cercelee that annoyed her the most. However, now Iskata had her own pack to fuss over and Cercelee had not heard from the female in sometime, so perhaps her interest in Dahlia de Mai had died away.
Cercelee smiled, of course it was within Jefferson’s rights to ask why Cercelee wished to know. In fact, had he not asked Cercelee would have assured him anyway, Cercelee was not spying or gathering information. It was a private inquiry, rather than one she would use in any manner. What she heard, she kept to herself. I was only curious, really. I knew Iskata when she was a loner, hanging around my pack sometimes. I didn’t imagine she’d join a pack, much less lead her own. Yet people always surprised you, it was just interested to analyze those surprised after they occurred. Never thought you’d respect a leader, huh? Why’s that?
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Sorry for the wait... to be honest, I have a hard time with this thread. wc322
escape is never the safest path
Iskata was a generous soul, having accepted a creature of such obvious defeat and self-negligence into her pack. She was fortunate that he was not here to take advantage of them and leave--or at least not anymore--and that he was of actual use despite his handicaps and deeply embedded scars that still possessed his thoughts from time to time. He managed to do what he could despite the limping and the pain, and whether or not that was recognized didn't seem to matter. He focused more on finding ways to pay them back for their courtesy of allowing him to reside there. For the first time in his life he was living for something more than himself--he was living for Phoenix Valley, and seeing that it was kept in shape. It was... a good feeling.
"Iskata, a loner? Hah," he scoffed with a light shrug of the shoulders. Why was that such an amusing thought? He'd been a loner once himself. "The lass must have been more fortunate than I and didn't turn out the way I did. She's got a good head on her shoulders, no doubt. As for me, well..." His voice trailed off briefly and he blinked his eye, searching for an answer. He didn't know why he respected her, really, other than that he was grateful for her generosity. Was that really the reason, let alone the only one? And as for Deuce, whom he seemingly had no respect for whatsoever? "It's hard to say why I respect her. I've never respected anyone but those who could beat me in battle." His eye strayed. "When I was a loner, all I did was fight for my life. I never took the time to make companions or consider a life surrounded by something more than passing strangers. It was a hard transition. I've never been under the command of anyone... so I didn't think I'd adapt to that so easily."
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Cercelee listened thoughtfully as Jefferson tried to explain his reasoning behind his respect for Iskata, and Cercelee tried to understand why she didn’t respect the female as strongly as this male seemed to. Iskata had never done anything to make Cercelee disrespect her (and Cercelee did not), and while she did admire the women for holding true to her opinion and running her own pack, Cercelee found that when face to face with Iskata the white female was more annoyed than anything else. Yes, Iskata was a loner for quite a while before settling down in Phoenix Valley. She spent a lot of time trying to find and keep in contact with all her children right after the fire. And now she had Phoenix Valley. Cercelee smiled slightly, maybe Iskata was just caring for the pack in the way she wished she could still care for her family, keep them together and loyal towards one another.
Sighing Cercelee stood, shaking out her fur and looking at the pouring rain. All the musing about Iskata’s pack was making her homesick for Dahlia de Mai, although she had only been gone a few hours at most. Dahlia was the first pack she cared for, and the first group of wolves she felt close to, she couldn’t help but wonder if Iskata felt more strongly about her family ties or pack bonds now. Turning to the male, she shrugged helplessly. Well, I have to go back to Dahlia de Mai now, but you can stay here as long as you’d like. No one should bother you here, and if you ever need a change of scenery, I wouldn’t mind showing you around Dahlia de Mai. Just come a-calling. Cercelee bowed her head as if to apologize for her abrupt departure, but that couldn’t be help. Dahlia was were Cercelee wanted to be, and she rarely ever kept herself from doing what she wanted.
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