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OOC: Sorry, this took me quite some time x.x ::Word Count:: 500+
Although the snow had had enough time to settle over the frozen lands, the days had become gradually warmer, temperature-wise, despite the fact that the cloudy, concrete-coloured sky did not let this on. The ivory-furred female had not seen the sun for some days, its presence made elusive by the heavy, gray-stained clouds of the New Year. Even if the earth was coated in pristine white, the celestial sphere's garment was dreary in appearance, making the areas closing in around Phoenix Valley seem dull, like a faded black and white postcard. The solitary Crimson Dreamer approached with confidence, the scent of the pack high upon the air, her spirits lifted by the anticipation seeing her friend entailed. Had it not been for the assuredness with which Naniko had spoken to her of Phoenix Valley, that day back in Halifax, Urma would have been more reticent in crossing the pack's borders, not knowing what to think of its members. However, her subsequent talk with Geneva, who had introduced herself as one of the leaders, strengthened her belief that this place was indeed suitable for Naniko, and welcoming enough to Crimson Dreams' ex-Commander's friends. She also knew of Ehno's frequent visits to see both Naniko and their children, and this only added to the certainty that the atmosphere around here was one of mutual trust and acceptance.
As the alabaster femme slowed down her pace, her amber eyes scoured the surrounding areas, resting on some distant spot for a few seconds, before continuing their untroubled gaze in the direction of the faraway skyline. Her nose was assaulted by the scent of Phoenix Valley, yet Urma did not mind in the least, even enjoyed the tinge of unfamiliarity, while knowing that this was a singular case, since by the time she would be heading back home, the smell would have become customary. She reclined to her haunches, grateful that her Lupus form prevented her from tiring as easily as walking on two-legs would have, while also leaving her untroubled by the unexpected changes in weather. The soft breeze still held a distinctive trace of winter, which Urma knew was far from being over, a fact she was secretly grateful for, as snow had been something she had dearly missed and which she associated without hesitancy with her homelands. Sensing that her progress would be considered invasive and petulant if it went unannounced, the white she-wolf rose her head gracefully and let out a long, neutral howl, simply to bring her presence to the attention of a pack member before proceeding any further. The sound of her voice was carried effortlessly by the slow wind, leaving no room for doubt that it would be heard in due time. Urma knew from personal experience that a wait such as this, especially when it was made known, rarely remained unanswered for long-- no pack, no matter how welcoming, would leave a stranger around its borders without any kind of sign of acknowledgement.
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[html] Not a problem, my dear! Thanks for starting! :'3
Convenience was key for a creature like Jefferson; cursed with one eye and three legs, there was no doubt that winter brought him an additional handicap when it came to travel and communication. The snow brought a variety of troubles all its own: storms made it difficult for any given creature to see, but a leader with responsibilities might have used the slight advantage of two eyes' sight in a snowstorm rather than one. Not to mention, when the snow piled up quickly, it made travel virtually impossible for the grumbling Patriarch on three legs -- he was unsuited to go bounding up and over snowdrifts both physically and mentally, nor did he have the energy or motivation of a jackrabbit to attempt it. The worst was when the snow froze over, making pushing through the foot upon foot of snow not only too tall for him, but the shards of ice pushed into his legs and chest as he tried to move through it, and one could imagine the experience was entirely unpleasant.
The shifting process to a two-legged form would seem the most appropriate, giving the beast a taller advantage over the snow. However, the cold also blessed the grumpy gimp an ache like nothing else in his bad leg, and in the process of shifting when the leg became an arm, it was as if the freakish mother bear was chowing down on his flesh and bone all over again. Despite all the hassle his three-legged limp made in the snow and ice, it was much more bearable than that terrible, gruesome pain.
And thus, when the howl from the borders sounded, it was no surprise that the gimp was nothing less than already grumpy, trudging his way along uselessly high piles of snow three-legged. This was because, of course, he was doing his usual rounds; thankfully he had needed to do them less often than usual as of late, but that was beside the point. He was out, he was about, and he didn't particularly want to be. When it got to the point that Jefferson could actually meet their visitor, however, there had been quite a span of time managed to make his way there. "Blessings and salutations," the idiot exclaimed through the most sarcastic of tones, a sickly smile on his cracked and torn face. "What ever can I do for you, my most humble visitor?"
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OOC: I'm sorry for the delay, school work ganged up on me x.x ::Word Count:: 700+
The pale Crimson Dreamer’s attention had drifted towards her surroundings as she waited for her call to be answered, knowing that in almost every case it never took longer than was safe for a pack to keep a stranger around their borders. Of course, she wasn't expecting anyone to be as punctual as the Inferni’s Aquila had been, but then, of course, Inferni probably had a lot going on to be weary of wolves, especially if they approached the borders with little to no hesitation. Comparing how coyotes would respond to wolf presence around their borders to how fellow wolves would respond to wolf presence in similar circumstances would most likely yield two sets of attitudes. Urma remembered very well how weary the coyote clan’s Centurion, Kaena, had been upon meeting the pearl femme in the Dampwoods; if a wolf that held such small threat in the eyes of virtually anyone could put a coyote on edge, it was clear that the enmity between wolves and coyotes was too deep for Urma to venture about even in her imagination. Although it would take a bit longer for her call to bring a Phoenix Valley pack member to where she was, waiting was not an issue with the ivory-furred she-wolf.
The time she thus spent alone gave her the opportunity to focus on the feeling of anticipation steadily growing seemingly in the center of her chest at the thought of her encounter with Naniko, the first since her alabaster friend had moved out of the shop in Halifax and joined this pack. The fact that the ex-Commander would be joined by her pups who, from all that Urma had pieced together from both Ehno and Kaena, were bound to be adorable, also contributed to the fast pace her heart had lapsed into. She was enthusiastic about it, but a small part of her was also anxious. Exactly why, she was unable to say herself, but it felt as if a leaden weight was pushing down upon her, crushing her bones, leaving her unable to properly enjoy the meeting that was soon to take place. This weight was lessened only by the knowledge that she would, hopefully in due time, be in the company of her dear friend, whom she missed and was glad to finally be able to see. As long as Naniko was there, Urma felt confidence return to its rightful place; it was quite heartwarming to see how safe the alabaster Crimson Dreamer felt in the company of her friend.
The minutes were slowly trickling away, and the blanched femme found fewer and fewer things remained for her to do to pass the time away. It seemed that Phoenix Valley was not a pack that concerned itself with trespassers, and this was something quite new to Urma, who was used to a prompt response from any member above a certain rank, whose duties, therefore, included regularly patrolling the borders. While she was certain that this particular pack followed the same standard procedures in handling newcomers who approached or even went beyond the borders, it was still peculiar to see that the matter was not being dealt with as swiftly as expected. She allowed her tail to pound the ground beneath it impatiently, when suddenly the sound of shuffling of paws reached her alert ears. She scanned the open area she was in and noticed a figure slowly limping towards her. Surely this could not be a member suitable for patrol duty, the ivory female thought, worry etched in her features as she followed the shape’s dull progress towards her. Sure enough, it was her call that had roused the approaching wolf, and for a moment the white Crimson Dreamer felt a pang of guilt at having made the male come to greet her in his impaired state. She rose on all four feet, her golden eyes not once leaving the stranger, and when his sarcastic tone reached her ears, she felt at a loss as what to tell him. Deciding that a straightforward answer would most likely settle the matter in the quickest way, delaying the male no longer, she replied, her tone as candid and soft as if he had addressed her on an equally welcoming note, “I am looking for a friend of mine who has been one of your pack’s members for some time now. I felt that it was needed of me to announce my presence before proceeding beyond your land’s borders. I am sorry if my howl disturbed you.” Her voice was genuine, despite the irony that had laced the male’s previous words.
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Jefferson saw the surprise in her reaction to his words matched with the look of compassion she'd worn prior; the girl was definitely a feeler rather than thinker, though the Patriarch supposed he was rather pitiful-looking. With a missing eye, useless leg and limp, and countless scars to boot, Jefferson made a different impact depending on who looking at him: feelers felt compassion, while thinkers felt intimidation. Thus far, that logic was nearly unfailing. The only wolf he could think of that had not reacted to any of his words or appearance had been the black wolfess Cwmfen of Dahlia, but then again, she hadn't had much personality for anything else, either.
The stranger responded promptly and politely, something the grumpy Patriarch didn't take for granted. More often than not, he was met with retaliation when it came to strangers at his borders; most likely his demeanor and greetings were often the cause of that, but what did he care? As far as Jefferson was concerned, he led the pack. Those that wanted access or membership were not welcome if they could not show respect nor act even relatively calmly in the face of potential danger. Half of his act, of course, usually had an intention of proving that right or wrong. "Smart girl," he nodded, then collapsed back onto his haunches with a clear oomph. After taking a moment to breathe and wait for the throbbing in his leg to subside a little, he continued. "You reek of Crimson Dreams, so I'm assuming you're either here for Geneva or Naniko. The latter and I aren't on good terms, so I don't know where the hell she is. I'd assume in one place, though, since she's got pups."
He straightened, eyeing the white wolfess with an analytical single eye. "What's your name?" Jefferson said slowly, a hint of suspicion still in his voice.
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 700+
Curiousity was making it hard for the pale-furred Crimson Dreamer not to look at the stranger in front of her. There was nothing unique in the way he looked-- if anything, he seemed to be more like a warrior that had seen the worst side of a battle as well as the best one, and although that initially brought thoughts of former glory, his appearance flooded Urma with compassion more than admiration. She pulled her ears back in discomfort, knowing that the sympathy with which she wanted to reach out to him was fueled mainly by a sense of pity, a feeling she knew did no one much justice. By the ironic tone in the male’s voice she could tell that he did not feel comfortable with strangers exactly for this reason, and it had been the knowledge that many were inclined to pity him that had made him sound, for the smallest moment, hostile. This unwelcoming attire was not new to Urma; she had seen it in other wolves in her former pack, the ones whom, despite being part of a pack, rarely gathered with the others except during a hunt or a meal. As a pup she had never understood their need for solitude, but lately, remembering them, she found it easy to understand that certain things that affect an individual are best kept away from the rest of the community. She knew very well, though through very different circumstances, what it felt like to want to shun away everyone else and, for lack of a means of achieving this, making sure that people’s first impression of you could be summed up as a strong dislike.
Of course, knowing that staring at the male would have been extremely impolite and highly inappropriate, she had been careful about her manner around him, never keeping her eyes dwelling on a single distinguishing feature of his unusual appearance, but neither averting her gaze from him. The fact that her eyes had a warm texture because of their unremarkable amber colour gave her expression a soft glow, so that she would not be perceived as anything less than what she was-- honest. If she would not be able to suppress a reaction, her eyes would be sure to betray her, and he would undoubtedly know that she was misleading him; as the case stood, however, she could think of no reason why deceit would serve her purpose better than truth, and she could tell by the way this wolf seemed to sum up a person with his eyes that he would not find her attempts at mistaking him for a fool worthy of anything else but contempt.
When he talked, Urma’s ears went up at once, keen to gather everything the stranger had to say. It was with a hint of disappointment, but also of delight that she received his first statement. While the short sentence had a streak of sarcasm lacing its words, she could feel that he wasn’t being as ironic as before, even if he wasn’t being admiring either; it was simply a way for the pearl femme to tell that her honesty was indeed of some value in the male’s eyes. As he continued in what was definitely meant to sound an uninterested way, she allowed herself a step or two forward, although his answer did not please her very much. She couldn’t understand how someone could not get along with Naniko, who seemed to Urma a very lively, gentle she-wolf.
“What about the former, then?” the white female asked, in regards to Geneva. She was amused by the male’s way of talking, and she was decided that she could spare a bit of her time on a conversation with him. He had a different way of being interesting, and it was of a kind that Urma was not familiar with, which in turn increased her curiousity. Her tone as neutral as it could ever be, the blanched Crimson Dreamer continued, “My name would make little difference to you; I am no one of importance. But I will give it to you nonetheless, because you ask it, not demand it. I am Urma. And who would you be, then, if I may ask so myself?” She allowed her voice to lapse into its warm, gentle hues, wanting this change to serve as a reassurance for the male that her intentions had in no way changed.
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She was polite. Jefferson could feel the weight of her eyes taking in his face, his scars, his demeanor; the white wolfess was kind about it, never allowing her gaze to dwindle anywhere too long. Subtly he appreciated it, as there was no pride in the scars he bore nor a delight in the loss of an eye or full use of a leg. Children loved to stare, that was no surprise -- to behold a monster with their own eyes was worth gaping at. Jefferson couldn't blame them... he just wished he wasn't worth staring at at all.
"Geneva, then," he said, shifting his weight without taking his eye off her. The wolfess was especially guarded, dodging and hesitant to give her name -- a suspicious thing, considering the war at hand and the fact that she was the guest here, not he. Jefferson frowned, but put that aside for later. "Geneva is my second-in-command. Right now, she's probably resting in the ranch." I think I'm in love with her. "I'm usually the one who stops for visitors."
He tipped his nose to her. "Urma, huh," he muttered. Sorry, never heard of you. "I'm Jefferson. I lead here." He paused, recalling briefly the bad step he and Naniko had began on. She'd lead Crimson Dreams for a while, right? Perhaps Urma knew more about her than he did. "You're fond of Naniko? She just had pups."
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