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Fred sighed as she walked in the valley she now called home. Ever since her encounter with the leader of this pack she had wanted to find him and clear that mucky water. Whinifred didn't like to leave off on a bad note, it left an unsettled ending and bad tidings. She shook her thick coat and conitnued to walk forwards. She had meant no disrespect to the male, she had only been uncomftorbale telling the male about her past. Fred had thought he might refuse her because of it.
Moving forwards he came across the open pace and the bright red ranch house she had seen the day before. The female was sure she would find the male here. Stalking forwards her strawberry coat rippled with her movements. Freds large paws brought her closer to the ranch house before she finally walked inside the house. It was warm and welcoming inside the big red building. Sitting in the door way she spoke up. "Monsieur Jefferson? Are you present?" She spoke up in her french accented voice.
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Oh God, it was her. Of all people he needed to bother him today, the one curious and confused Phoenix Valley newcomer he didn't want to deal with came frolicking after him. It concerned him how she knew how to find him, but he did suppose he spent a little bit too much time hiding away in the ranch. It was winter; what else was he to do? He found it comfortable to get away from the world for a little while, pull a random book from the library in the other room, and curl up in front of the blazing hearth. But no, that was out of the question when the French girl came a-runnin', and the one-eyed brute audibly groaned and resisted the urge to throw his book across the room. He'd only met her once, and that annoying voice of hers was already enough to spark at his easily sparkable temper.
"Oh yes, madame Whinnie," he replied back in a stupidly whimsical voice, half mocking her accent and dialect before sighing and leaning back in his chair. The book was closed quietly and plopped on the floor. His tone returned to normal shortly thereafter, somewhat amused by his own antics but managing to stifle that enough for business matters. Wait, hadn't he told her to stay out of his way or something? What kind of idiot was she, anyway? "You need something?" He called.
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His voice was mocking her french accent and it made Whinnie sigh dejectedly at his manner. Moving closer she sat in her wolf form not far away. "I thought to tell you what you wished to know?" Fred stated gently. "But if Monsieur would like me to leave I would be obliged to do so." The strawberry female sat down and watched the one eyes male. His manners were so strange to her, it would take her time to learn how to comprehend him. Her blue and half green eyes just watched him and noted the book he had put down.
"I would like to sit with you and maybe tell you a story Monsieur. I've been told I can entertain well with them." She said it with a husky french voice that stated her inability to fault from his miss placed sarcasm. Her eyes went back to the book. She couldn't identify the novel, but was curious as to what it was. Even more so she was curious as to what made her pack leader tick. What made him the man he was today? Whinifred smiled before shifting to her other form, feeling more comfortable in this body when he was in it as well.
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He watched her silently when she stepped in, that sarcastic and habitual scowl on his face once again when she ever-so-nonchalantly took a seat beside him. The brute did pick up on her sigh after he'd selfishly mocked her--it seemed she had some actual personality beneath the surface after all--but it was quickly dropped and forgotten soon thereafter. She peered at his book and, finding it a distraction or means for conversation, the Patriarch noted his page and tossed the book aside. For a brief moment he inhaled deeply and savored the scent and warmth of the burning hearth in his lungs before releasing it once more, internally preparing himself for the annoyance that had walked in on him.
"Eh, you're already here," he shrugged, shaking his head. If she was going to tell him her story, then it may as well be then rather than coming back later to annoy and interrupt him a second time. There wasn't much point to that, after all. "Sure, whatever," he shrugged. Jefferson had never been one for stories and fairytales; the brute was a bit too down-to-earth for such whimsicalities, but he wasn't complaining. If she was going to stay here, he was going to have to know something about her, even if he didn't really want to. "Go ahead, but if you put me to sleep, don't wake me up." After all, he hadn't been sleeping well lately.
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Whinnie really didn't mind Monsieur Jefferson's manner. His lack of gentleman behavoir was part of him, and it only added to his character in Whinnie's opinion. Smirking gently she only looked away from him when he commented absent mindedly. The strawberry blonde women passed him dropping down in front of the warm fire. She didn't care to look at the male while she told her story. He would most likey just be the usual grump. Fred took in a breath letting the warmth seep into her skin and comfort wash over her. Weather this pack would be home for long she wasn't really sure, she only hoped that this would turn out better then the last go around.
"Oui, Monsieur I am already here." Whinifred said in her deeply accented english. His remark about sleep made her smile drop and she looked over her shoulder. "Monsiuer, pardon me for saying that a man like you seems to need the sleep." Turning back to the fire Whinifred couldn't help but scold herself for the comment. With the males temper she had seen before she was sure he wouldn't act kindly to it. So without giving him to much time to think on it she moved into her story.
"This is not my first pack. Though I guess it doesn't take an intellegant to figure it out. My last pack was my birth pack, though I don't think I could find much left to call them but traidors. When I was born my father was almost sure I would die, I was the runt of my mothers litter." Whinnie paused listening to her audiance for just a second. The female would leave if he did fall asleep and not disturb him. "When I did live it was almost as bad as if I had died. My pack didn't know what to do with me I was small and weak compared to my brothers. So the council saw it fit to make me their nagotiator." Whinifred turned and looked over her shoulder, her blue eyes watching silently, her face a mask of no emotions.
Turning back to the fire after a mintue she continued. "Though I had no problem with the path they had chosen for me, it seemed harsh treatment. I was approaching my first birthday, when they asked me to finally speak with another pack in are area. It was a pack that my own had shared bad blood with over a long amount of time from what I had heard from the others. As the nagotiator I went to the border with two males of high rank in the pack, the leader wasn't to come." Fred paused looking into the fire. Her heart rolled in her chest.
What would Monsieur Jefferson do when he found out what she had done? Taking in a deep breath the french women pushed it from her mind. It would do her no good to think on it. "It was then I found as I negotiated peace, what the leader of our pack had offered for the rival pack to leave us be." Fred stared deep into the fire watching it burn. "Three females. They gave them three females. Me, my sister Onita, and another female from my pack named Norma. So they took me and the other two females were brought later, I apparently had found a better purpose them Nagotiator, since I had negotiated my own en-slavment. You could say I was angry, but I guess anger would justify what I did to my pack for their betrayal, and selfish act. "
A smile pulled onto the french womens face. It was slow and almost malicious. "They thought I would just let them take me with out even a word uttered; they were wrong. I bartered with the other pack, my freedom for ever secret and weakness my former family had. Of course they took it, I gladdly watched them slaughter each one of that pack. Since they had not felt any regret it betraying me, I have no regret in returning the favor." Whinnie stopped her smile had faded with the memories of blood and screams of people she had grown up around. It hadn't mattered, not after they had showed how little they meant to each other. Whinifred had left out alot, but it was the basic details of her past, Monsieur Jefferson didn't and probably wouldn't want to hear about the rest.
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At her reply to his witty little retort about sleeping, Jefferson snickered and leaned back in his chair, deciding to give the french foreigner her due share of attention and focus. The Patriarch's nestled smirk disappeared slowly at her tale, wholly unfortunate and rather disappointing to say the least. At times, he found himself shaking his head, appalled by the idiocy of some characters, and again at her reaction and end result of the switch and revenge. He believed it all, as unbelievable as it was, and he frowned when she finally turned to him.
"You've been through some shit," he said subtly, as if hardly finding any words of reply. The fact that she'd had her whole pack killed in the end came across as a surprise to him, and he found himself a little more on edge than before. In fact, he sent her a pretty dark look at first--a silent warning, perhaps--but soon leaned back again and relaxed thereafter. "Let's just say you won't have to plot out any more genocide around here. At least, I would recommend you not doing so." He gave her a look, then erupted into a lazy yawn. "I've killed plenty myself; I shouldn't even be talking. It's nothing to be proud of, you know."
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Whinifred kept staring into his fire. Her blue and green eyes narrowed from the effort it took to stare straight at the bright light. Monsieur Jefferson had listened to her past, and hadn't fallen asleep thankfully. Of course she hadn't wanted to tell the leader this when she had first arrived. It would have made him question weather he should let her into his pack. Whinifred liked it here in Phoenix Valley, it was starting to become comfortable. Whinnie turned and smiled gently at Jefferson. His words were humorus to her. "Je voudrais mourir avant de trahir mon nouveau pack"
Whinifred's french words were said with a passion. The decleration was meant more for herself then for Monsieur Jefferson. Her eyes went up to his that gentle smile on her young face. "I won't be doing anything like that Monsieur. I promise." Fred had had a feeling that her leader had killed before. Many had to kill to live. Though Whini had only ripped out the throat of two wolves in her life, most of her pack had been killed by her betrayl.
"Death is just that Monsieur. A passage into the next step, an end to a lesson. That is what I believe. That's why I don't fear death, or giving it to some one." The french women kept watching the leader as she spoke. Moving closer to the leader Whinifred tilted her head in question. "Tell me monsieur Jefferson is that why you are so unhappy?" Her gaze was questioning. She wanted to understand him, only if to know him better. The she wolf was sure he wouldn't let her know. Like most males he would want to keep it to himself and deal with it. Wouldn't he?
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Evidently, Jefferson did not understand the foreign words she replied with, but the heartfelt tone in which they were said were reassuring anyway. The brute nodded when she returned with English, hardly pleased or impressed with her just yet but nonetheless on a more neutral standpoint than he had felt when she'd first entered the room. Her views on death were unique--not necessarily wrong, but unique and different from his own--and the Patriarch's eye affixed on her strictly as she spoke on the subject. Needless to say, the hybrid wasn't jumping to trust her just yet. He was still giving her chances... still waiting to see if she was going to earn a name for herself in his other other than being an annoyance.
She moved closer and questioned him. The coziness in the girl put him on edge; she did strike him as the type who might try seduction to get her way with things, but he was always one to jump to conclusions anyway. He chuckled a little at her question. "You think that's why I'm unhappy?" The green-eyed wolf looked up at her, lips still slightly upturned and grimness devoid from his voice. "I've killed hundreds and I don't remember any of them. I don't know or care about my own family unless they recognize me and care first." The leaned forward a little, eye almost sinister in manner. "And on top of it all, I have to take care of a pack full of miscreants and dreamers just like you."
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His words burned Whinifreds ears and made her eyes down cast in a sad gaze. She hadn't expected such words from her leader. How could she put her trust, her life in his hands if he did not care? Blue eyes lifted to gaze over his face again searching curiously. "Monsieur, your words are hurtful to me. I did not thing I or the other members of this pack deserved such disrespectful thought." Fred moved away from him, angry at him, for being so blind. Why were they always so quick to judge? "And as for a dreamer Monsieur, with out dreams what is there left but insanity?" Whinifred asked him gently. She wasn't perfect, she knew she was probably not the type of female he wished he had in his pack, but Fred was far from a sulking twit.
Moving around the room Whinnie went back to the warm flame sitting near it and listening to the cracking of the fire. She couldn't even begin to understand Monsieur Jefferson, maybe she was wrong to. His ablity to blow off his pack members was something Fred would find irritating now and in the future, she was sure. Getting up from the floor Whinnie had had enough. Moving past where he sat she looked down at him with strong blue and half green eyes before speaking to him. "With such little faith and love for your followers it is not a surprise to me the size and dwindling life in this pack. Maybe Monsieur if you stop wallowing in your own self pity you could see that." She said almost tersly before slowly moving away from him and towards the door of the ranch.
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The fact that she chose to lecture him did not faze him whatsoever. Clearly he'd disappointed her somehow--this was nothing new, he was a rather disappointing individual in the first place--but as she began to send shooting words at him that hardly reached his ears, Jefferson began to wonder what exactly she expected out of him. Sure, he was the pack's leader and was quite aware that he was supposed to possess some level of charisma or know how to be authoritative. Well, the most charisma he possessed involved using fear as a tactic (sometimes unintentionally). He certainly didn't have the charm many leaders did. Technically speaking, he had no charm whatsoever.
The girl accused him of a few things and wandered off, pretty easily disturbed and furious for someone who'd only been a member for a few days. Jefferson stifled the nonchalant yawn that lifted when she stormed out of the room; an ear twitched and his eye followed her, but there was no general reaction. "You've forgotten something," he said from the other room, not about to get up and hold her back from leaving. Instead, Jefferson's quiet green eye turned back to the fire. "You've forgotten who the biggest miscreant of all is." The Patriarch's voice was filled with a bit more compassion than usual; it was not that he disliked them. No, he'd never wanted to become a leader like he'd become, but he wouldn't have asked for a different pack. He was like them. He was attracted to them, as they were to him and the reasons he acted and looked the way he did. The Patriarch would not have admitted it, but he knew he was the king of miscreants, if there ever could be one. He fit in there... he knew he did.
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