[html] Winter had come upon the land. It had crept in, spreading cold fingers on the wings of the wind. And now, snow had finally arrived. Geneva wrinkled her nose as her feet sank into the soft white blanket that covered the ground. The pads of her paws were chilled, but it was not an all-together unpleasant feeling. A summer season full of snow had left her wanting for drier weather for the rest of the year, but snow was to be expected during this season.
The Savant had ventured in her feral form today, favoring the balance of four feet as opposed to two. She was better able to maneuver through snowbanks now, although she did acknowledge that her shorter stature also had some drawbacks. The woman, however lithe and somewhat graceful when she navigated through the snow, could not see above some of the higher piles. She exhaled, her breath coming out in a cool stream of fog.
Geneva felt as though she dwelt in a place that was "in-between." She was currently in the northern part of Halifax, just a few feet from the part that Phoenix Valley had claimed. Trees and vines tangled with manmade ruins, as though nature was trying to take over what man had wrought and ruined. Lime green eyes studied these figures in silence, and the air was still.
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Cold aggravated his joints. Last year's winter had been difficult more due to the changes in his life: the bear attack on Iskata had happened sometime around then as well as his sudden promotion to subleader and surge of responsibilities. Iskata's death had happened soon after, sometime in January, and he'd taken over the pack from Deuce on a day's notice in February. Clearly, Jefferson's handicap had slowed him down a little, but the ache in the joints of his bad leg was primarily overlooked and ignored throughout those few months due to the business he'd been dealing with. The entire winter season was hardly more than a moving, one-thing-after-another blur that had blown by and quickly introduced a slightly calmer spring. It was all well and good: Jefferson hated winter either way.
Moving about four-legged in cold weather was hard enough with that constant ache, but trudging through snow made the experience worse. He could barely place his leg to the ground without hissing in pain, and pushing through the snow as such was laborious. The cyclops could have shifted to make things easier -- and usually, he did -- but the shift from three legs to two was especially difficult in the cold for him, not to mention incredibly painful for his leg with its already doubled ache. There were days were he could not bear to go back and forth, and apparently that was one of those days; he moved along grumpily, working his way along the borders. He collapsed more than once and had to take several breaks, but was getting it done. The drifting scent of Geneva, who had recently passed and was not far off-territory, however, distracted the reluctant lover; the cyclops quickly changed route and followed it, only to find her barely a walk away.
"You don't wander off packlands very often," he said in his approach, trying to hide the wince of his eye and make his limp typical, but the pain of the regular pressure was easily driving him berserk. "If you were trying to get away from me, you'll need more effort than that." Strange, since Jefferson had been the one running away from her, originally. "Something wrong?"
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[html] ♥Geneva was not alone for long, but as she turned to greet the owner of the voice that had broken her silence, she was not unhappy. The gray woman was not a creature who withered in solitude; she gloried in the ability and the opportunity to sink into her thoughts. It was the way that she sorted things out, and she found it easier to make decisions and be at peace with decisions she had made. Geneva was a creature of analysis. Bright lime green eyes came to settle upon the slightly haggard and definitely grumpy expression on Jefferson's face. She could tell that he was tired. It was nothing that she ever verbally acknowledged, but she knew that the one-eyed wolf had a hard time in the cold. She knew that he was often in pain; the cold must only intensify it for him. But she also knew that nothing she could say could keep her stubborn mate from completing his rounds, no matter how tired or hurt he felt. "I'll have to re-double my efforts to elude you, then," she said, not without some humor in her voice. She smiled a small smile, a thin stretching of her lips. "Everything's fine," she added, only half paying attention to the words as her eyes slid away from his face. Perhaps two or three yards away there was a particularly tall tree whose branches fanned out, which made the snow beneath it relatively level. "I'm tired," she said, and it wasn't completely a lie. She was feeling a bit light-headed because she had risen early and hadn't eaten, ignoring her appetite in favor of patrolling. The snow fall was fresh, and she had wanted to re-mark their boundaries and walk with her thoughts. She now felt the effects of the reduced energy. "Sit with me for a while?" she said, gesturing toward the shelter of the tree. It was the best way she could think of to make him rest a little. He tried to mask it, but she knew him better now, better than that. A little rest would do them both good.
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He could see a sag in her shoulders, even as subtle as it was; just as she had learned him well, he had she. Jefferson had always been a practiced analyst, but Geneva had been one of few faces he had simply been unable to read from the beginning: her actions and intentions seemed to fight each other as if she could not make a conscious decision at all. The Patriarch had seen vast changes in her character since they'd first met -- it was such a long time ago now, but each and every memory still played clear in his mind. He replayed those memories often, never with a reason why.
But the sag she had denoted some sort of trouble, though she said nothing. Her smile was genuine; she didn't want him to worry if there was a problem. Then again, Jefferson was still imperfect when it came to reading the olive-eyed goddess; she knew how to duck her way out of his understanding. Was he overreacting, or was he just concerned and worried? Was that how love worked? "It's cold for sitting," he replied, a smile on his cracked and scarred face as he moved beside her and quietly placed himself there. For a moment he simply sat in silence, enjoying her presence and company, before inhaling and releasing a long, winded exhalation.
"I've been thinking of a lot of dead faces lately," he sighed, unsure why the thought was coming to mind. By this time last year, Laruku was already dead. Iskata disappeared around a month later. The troupe who came to visit Skoll had reintroduced such thoughts into his mind; Jefferson was sure neither of them had "funerals," which essentially had been what the group of visitors had done. Jantus had done well to lead them, while Jefferson had only been a babysitter and quiet observer, wondering himself what had happened to his own family -- his mother, his father. The siblings nobody had known for years. He resigned, "Iskata didn't deserve whatever happened to her." Geneva didn't even know her. Why would she care?
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[html] He smiles. God.It was always strange to see him smile genuinely and without a fight. At the beginning of their association, she had had to fight for every inch. But now it seemed like the simplest thing. She treasured this still. When she saw him smile, truly smile, it made her think that maybe, just maybe, she could be good enough for him. The only other times she had seen him smile so genuinely had been when he had just woken up, when he was in the place between waking and consciousness. She had always wondered what he dreamed about, but she had never asked. She leaned her muzzle against his shoulder for a moment, breathing deeply as she tried to catch a hint of his scent. It was difficult for her to discern, but sometimes if she breathed deeply enough she was able to catch the slightest hint. It only happened when they were close enough that she could feel him against her like a line of warmth. And again, that never happened as often as she liked. It was not like of desire, but their responsibilities which kept them apart. He shared so freely with her now, another cause for her to be quietly amazed. There was an edge of sadness to his words, a taste of pain in the way he said her name. Iskata. She had never met the woman, but knew only a little about her. She had been a founder and a leader, had occupied the same position that Jefferson now did. And it was obvious by the way he said her name that he had held some sort of attachment to her; she was someone that he had held close to his chest. And she knew how hard that was for him to begin with. Geneva had come into his life after Iskata had left, whatever had happened to her. The weight of that mystery obviously stayed with him. Although she had never met Iskata, she cared because it was obvious that she had meant something to him. He carried so much inside of him; it was obvious in the way his silences held so much more than silence. She was here to help him with that burden now though. "Tell me about her?" she asked.
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Geneva hadn't been fortunate enough to meet Iskata, but he supposed there was no helping it. He himself hadn't known the gray goddess existed until he'd taken control of the pack, which was closing in on a year ago. The brute had definitely found it difficult to allow others so close to him, but Iskata and Geneva had both broken through walls and walls before the cyclops had even began to trust them. For Geneva, he couldn't exactly explain why it was he'd allowed her into his life. For Iskata, well... it made more sense with Iskata.
"Where to start," he murmured, breathing deep and smiling a little at the contact against his shoulder. It was strange; he'd pushed her away so much just months before, and now there wasn't the slightest hesitance nor anxiety in his stance. Iskata had been the same, though in different ways, he supposed. "I probably would have died. I was just skin and bones after the accident--" his tattered leg shifted a little, "--and when I ended up on Phoenix Valley borders by accident, Deuce tried to send me away. She didn't much care for coyotes." The words were said with a level of distaste, memories of Mew again rising in his mind. "I was barely able to stand. Iskata invited me back after Deuce left, and I guess it's fate after that. I meant to stay as long as it took to get my strength back and then ditch 'em, but things changed."
A ripped ear twitched and his tail curled around his legs. "I found my -- Maluki's -- adopted brother later, who told me who I used to be." Had he ever told Geneva about that? He must've; they'd discussed his children at one point or another. "He pointed me back at Iskata. She helped me out with it all, but... there was an accident later on, and eventually she disappeared. I assume murdered." He heaved a sigh, eye dipping to the soil. "She wanted me to replace her leading the pack, and... well, I guess that's why I can't let it fall into danger."
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[html] It seemed that Iskata had been more than just a benevolent presence in Jefferson's life. It was evident by the way he spoke of her that she had been his friend, something close to a companion to the solitary man. Jefferson was a solitary being and he fought against anyone getting closer - or at least, he had at first, with her. Now when they touched, although it was still significant to her, it was without a battle. And it seemed Iskata had gotten close enough to touch his heart. "You loved her," Geneva said gently. There was no jealousy in her voice. She was simply stating what she thought, what was plainly evident in the tone of his words. Iskata had accepted him in his time of need, and that had obviously meant something to the scarred male. That had touched something in him that had changed him, that had transformed his apathy into something almost like compassion. It became evident to the gray hued woman the reason he felt so bound to Phoenix Valley, despite the way he hemmed and hawed over the little things. He attended to his duties without much real complaint, although he liked to raise his voice in ire. "What you do, it is all out of love," she nudged him a bit, smiling a bit. He was not made of stone, despite the face he presented to the world. She sent a small prayer, a small thank you to Iskata's soul. She had touched, altered, changed him in some way. "I will do all I can to make sure that Phoenix Valley remains safe, that our home stays safe."
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You loved her. No, that had never been the case. The Patriarch's ear twitched as he considered the thought, though no internal struggling or argument commenced with the concept. Jefferson had respected her, looked up to her; Iskata had been good to him, saving his life and aiding him along his little journey to find himself. She'd been terribly troubled herself, plagued by past demons involving her children and figures like Gabriel; perhaps it had been because Jefferson could relate to her that he was so quick to invest his trust in her. Even to that day, after so many months since she'd vanished, it was still unclear. "No," he replied, closing his single eye and bowing his head. "I didn't love her. I never loved her. I looked up to her... that's all."
It was the truth. Geneva should have known, after all the fuss he'd brought about when he slowly fell for the olive-eyed girl. The cyclops had been so against love, so against that overwhelming emotion and trust that he'd wanted nothing to do with it; the only reason he sat with like that today was because she'd been so persistent and, with enough effort, he'd broken down his own walls. Jefferson would never have done so for Iskata -- at the time she was his leader, and thus he'd remained as guarded as ever.
When she referred to his work, however, his ears pricked to attention. He attended to Phoenix Valley... out of love? It was such a strange idea, yet the cyclops had no argument against it. "The pack was entrusted to me by someone who worked hard as hell for it and met an undeserving end." His eye gazed out into the distance, head full of thoughts. "Taking care of Phoenix Valley is just my way of thanks." He smiled at her words, pleased she considered the pack her home -- so much had happened since that Crimson Dreams girl had first appeared on his lands.
"All I ask is that you stay safe as well," he shrugged, leaning his head against hers. "I'll be taking care of that."
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[html] His words touched her, as they always did. And his gestures too, the simplest things reinforced the fact that there was something more, something else. But Geneva had always craved words more than anything else, something she had never really thought about before. Actions certainly meant as much as words did to her. But there was something about the affirmation of hearing something said aloud that hit home for her. She was sure that Jefferson needed to hear certain things, in order to believe them to be true. He did not crave words the way she did, but he fought so hard against anything that could touch him. Sometimes he just needed to hear those things, she was sure. To put a name to her actions. She loved him. It was that simple. The brief tender contact stirred something to life in her, as she rolled her lime green eyes to look at him. She was struck by how beautiful he was. She had always found him interesting; he quickened her thoughts and touched her heart. But sometimes, looking at him, her breath would catch in her throat. And something stirred inside of her, hesitant as always. "I would ask the same of you," she said, then swallowed slightly before she continued again, her voice delicate in its hesitation. "That, and something more."
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Her comment inevitably puzzled him, as did most everything else she typically did. To him, Geneva was still an enigma, still that blunt force that had somehow knocked through his heavily-guarded walls and defenses; Jefferson still couldn't figure out how she'd done it or won him over in the end. He'd gone over the process countless times in his head and it felt only like ongoing struggles, shouts, and puzzles with her. Where along the way had he fallen in love?
The brute paused briefly, then pulled his head away and looked at her with a blatantly quizzical look. "Something else? The hell are you talking about?" He was a man, after all, and one that she knew had little experience with women and their mindgames. Surely she didn't expect him to be able to read her mind just yet -- the cyclops wasn't quite cutesy or sentimental enough to believe such a thing possible let alone be capable of it.
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