Trigger finger (Moxxi)
Mar 10, 2015 20:40:03 GMT -5
Post by Peregrine on Mar 10, 2015 20:40:03 GMT -5
It had been a while since she had properly spoken to Ruckus. They’d both been busy with their own respective jobs; him, out seeing to his mission, and her, taking care of pack matters as a whole. While Tzafar could not yet call him her friend, she owed him much, and saw value in his presence. They were symbiotic, for as long as it would last—and she knew that dogs like them, individuals of ambition, did not always see eye to eye. But she’d take what she could get while she could, and expected the same of him. She did not anticipate a quick betrayal by him, if any; they were both in deep together. But neither could she see him staying under her command for the rest of his (or her) life. There was too much out there for him, and she had learned that not all readily accepted subservience as she had.
Beneath ground, she waited. Ruckus was still naught but a ghost – if that – to the rest of the pack. She was alone, save for him occasionally, in the underground bunker. And that was where they would meet; apart from the main entrance apparent to the base as a whole, there was another; perfect for their clandestine efforts. The Commandant waited in one of the side rooms, a room filled with all sorts of human memorabilia. Papers, strewn from open files, littered the floor. She was aware, from experience, that the markings on them were language, but had no experience in deciphering their meanings. The quarters were close, tight and well hidden in the maze of file cabinets. She supposed the extent of her caution was not needed, but it was a good little room that she was eager to take advantage of. She reclined in a sit, in sight of the door, awaiting her merle companion so that they could get on with important discussions.