<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)"><b>Jakob Hopkins - Elder </b></span></i></span></span><br/>
harmoniously.<span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)"><b><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/bff33a99328521f2cd0c2ddef89d06df-jpg.56416/" title="bff33a99328521f2cd0c2ddef89d06df.jpg">
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</div></b></span></i></span></span>​</div><b>Dinner was going as expected. Actually he'd be worried if it were all peace and quiet. They were wolves deep inside afterall. He ate on nonchalantly, paying no mind to the choking words flying over the table rather relishing the taste of the meat mixing with bourbon in his mouth. He would prefer it raw though, but for the young ones he didn't want to rub off as being animalistic. Irony. As if they all weren't..<br/>
Picking up the last piece of steak on his plate he finished with another cup of bourbon. That will be his third for the night. Grabbing his towel he gently dabbed his lips as The Alpha hushed the two kitties. <br/>
<br/>
He understood what they were going through, especially the ones recently turned. Heck even the older ones can't even claim to have really balanced their dual nature.<br/>
Werewolf change was never pleasant. It was one of the reasons pack members still referred to it as a curse, despite the fact that, in this modern age of enlightenment and free will, clavigers chose metamorphosis. The change comprised a good deal of biological rearranging. This, like rearranging one's parlor furniture for a party, involved a transition from tidy to very messy to tidy once more. And, as with any redecoration, there was a moment in the middle where it seemed impossible that everything could possibly go back together harmoniously. Some still had troubles accepting who they are now, some longed for freedom outside the pack like he once did, yeah he could see it in glistering in their eyes. They will learn on their own as he though, in time, that when you roam alone you are vulnerable. Some had personalities that crashed with others and when pricked, flare up in rage and self-defense. <br/>
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He raised his head only when Enzo started chiming up about a brawl. Suggesting it to end the feud between the girls. Blow off steam he termed it. Jakob chuckled at his immaturity. Some dogs want to be cuddled, some seeked recognition, some power, some wanted to help, some didn't give a damn...but they were all dogs and he didn't believe in pitching a dog against another. Not all dogs take well to defeat. <br/>
<br/>
"I understand you all have your differences, and yes probably pent up frustrations from your day urging for release...but for the purpose of this tradition, I hope you'd calm your rage or at least put a damper on it till the morrow, then I will be more than happy to watch any settle things the wolf way. " He adviced looking at no one in particular. He had noticed Lyden's seat empty which was rare. He pulled out his phone and tried to reach him. The line was dead. He was notably worried now and it glittered in his eyes. <br/>
"Days might come when we'll look back to times like this and long for them again." He looked to the Alpha, giving him a signal to be excused. </b><br/><br/>H<b>e was going to try calling one of the hands that he sent to Lyden. If nothing comes up he'd call the clavigers. Was it his wolf instinct or fatherly feelings that made him so worked up?<br/>
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<span style="font-size: 12px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><i>Tagging: Eveyone. </i></span></span></b>