Oh well, I guess, we're gonna pretend
Well, it was safe to say Zell was losing his sight in his damaged eye. Without a healer to look at it and his stubborness to seek help from a different pack, the old man decided to deal with it. His left eye was no longer swollen, but his icy blue eye was clouded. The scar left behind by the predator he'd fought had managed to leave a nasty wound at the time, and the result...a deep scar and a blind eye. Surprisingly, he didn't mind as much as someone else might. He had made it this far, eight years old and his old lifestyle had finally caught up with him. He had been tired of sitting around in Lirim with nothing to do, and of course the day he decided to go out, he got in a fight and got wounded. He didn't dwell on it, however. He would continue his patrols of the border (even though nothing ever happened), and continue his life. Sometimes though, he longed for a different life. One less...stagnant...one where he could do as he pleased without consequence. One perhaps...where his son wasn't the alpha.
He was proud of Torin for his work, however. While he wasn't as supportive as he should have been, he didn't wish for Torin to step down. He was simply tired of their strained relationship and constantly butting heads, but he didn't know how to fix it anymore than his son probably did. Zell knew he was a stubborn old fool, and old habits died pretty damn hard. Perhaps it would be better for him to live the rest of his days elsewhere...but he wasn't so sure.
Lost in thought, he accidentally crossed the path of one of Jewell's kids, and by the time he realized it, it was too late. He paused as he pretty much stepped in her way, his fur rising slightly with apprehension. Was this the part where Jewell came running at him and make good on her promise to fight him if he came near her kids? He wasn't afraid of the little rainbow bitch, and he secretly hoped she would so he would finally have a reason to knock her on her ass and teach her a lesson.
Even with that lingering in the back of his mind, he held no malice for her children. "How ya doing kid?" He questioned, though his voice lacked any unkindness. He carried a neutral tone. A neutral stance. He knew this girls sister had died not long ago, and while he would never admit it, he had visited her grave and mourned the loss. She was a child, after all. Born and thrust into a world deemed unfit and unfair to its inhabitants. Though perhaps if he had been allowed around them more, she might still be alive. |
