Study - Debriefing a Mission

[Pablo]

Pablo began to rub the back of his neck upon receiving Pete's mental contact. While he was more than ecstatic to see his friend, the whole speaking directly to his mind thing bothered him more than a lot. Yet it appeared to be the lycan way and Sharpe seemed to use it more than anybody else. Oh and you really think I don't know that? I have a watch you know. He replied with a smirk as he pointed to his currently naked wrist. I just wanted to see how they would react. Apparently they don't care or are too polite to care. The boy lied poorly, but perhaps also purposely. The second half of his friend's greeting put Pablo in a less than cheerful mood. His smirk quickly became a frown as he turned to look at Pete and gave him a re-assuring pat on the back. The news of Arai's unfortunate disappearance had reached Pablo. Don’t worry I bet she's all right, maybe she got herself in a little bit of a pickle, but she's a smart girl and will probably find a way out of it.

Oh man, maybe I shouldn't mention Arai at all. The last thing I want is for him to start crying, he seems depressed enough. Petes are suppose to be happy and annoying, this ain't right. Maybe that's why he has people calling him Sharpe... Sharpe... Sharpe.... I'm not really sure if I like the sound of that. I'm sure he doesn't mind if I keep on calling him Pete, maybe I should ask... Nah he doesn't care, I think I'll let him know... Pablo kept those thoughts to himself. Hey Pete, you don't mind if I keep on calling you Pete? Because, I'm going to keep on- oh shit is Geoff giving a speech? Pablo broke his train of thought just in time to hear Geoff praise him for his leadership in Rome. Pablo's frown quickly became a smirk which he would bear for the rest of the day. Pablo was already well aware that he'd done well in Rome, but he would be lying if he said he didn't like hearing it from somebody else.

"Huh... Is that it? I guess I expected more. I'll be seeing you'll at the feast. If I’m not there on it's because I over napped, so Pete save me a spot. " With that Pablo quickly high-tailed his way out of the study and to his room where he set up an alarm to go off in two hours. After determining that his typical trench-coat and jeans are suitable for any feast Pablo passed out on his bed. He slept soundly for the most part, that was until the sound of somebody's bed counter being crushed. Pablo rolled over with a sigh and got out of bed. The noise clearly came from his neighbor Geoff. "Dammit are they having sex again? I swear they make that much noise just to try to piss me off." Pablo said to himself. He was about to interrupt their sweet-sweet love making but stopped when he realized it wasn't sweet-sweet love making. Geoff sounded incredibly pissed. "Oh man, I know I should eaves drop, but it's so damn easy." It was times like this when he couldn't decide whether his lycan senses were a blessing or a curse. The boy focused greatly on what was being said while ignoring the noise of furniture destruction.

Pablo listened quietly with his mental-link shut off for a good thirty minutes or so before Geoff stormed off in a huff. The boy managed to come up with a grand conclusion that 'this is no good'. Geoff was a much respected in the lycan community and rather powerful. If he planned on revolting against Alena there would certainly be many lycans who would side with is old commander. Pablo almost felt sympathy for Geoff; surly what Alena did was wrong, but it was only lycan nature. That... and he could never betray Alena. She had welcomed Pablo to her family with open arms. As angry as Geoff was, Pablo's rage would be twice-fold if the pack was destroyed. Geoff like the vampires was another threat that needed to be dealt with. It's something that he would need to discuss with Alena.

Pablo could hear the Lycan Queen leave her lover's room. Judging by the time it appeared that she was heading to the feast, but would there still be one after what had just occurred? He shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the feast with a whistle and skip to his step. Once in the hall he quickly took his seat and made sure to save a spot for Adele and Pete.

[Adele Holst]

The wooden floor of Adele's room creaked softly as she entered and kicked off her shoes, closing the door with a socked toe. Home, she thought, looking around her room here at the Den. One of them, at least. The room had been untouched in her absence and looked just as bleak and unadorned as it had when she left it. Dropping her backpack on the floor next to the bunk bed, the blonde wrestled with her hoodie and shirt, flinging them carelessly to the floor.
Her muscles were so sore and all she wanted was sleep, but first she had to attend this feast the Lycan Leader had made to honor Rome's victors. I don't want to... But her stomach growled fiercely in defiance. It wouldn't do to show up to the meeting and not the feast anyway; plus the feast would probably be more fun. Except... Alena had mentioned something about being shown off as a Lycan Lord in front of the Den. All those people, Werewolves, watching her.
"You knew this was going to happen someday, damn it. Ficken sie..." Hopping on one leg, Adele tugged at a pant leg and shimmied her jeans and socks off.
The light in the bathroom flickered twice before turning on completely, and the young Lycan threw open the shower curtain. The shower faucet burst to life, screeching at first from the temperature of the water, but soon the only sound filling Adele's head was the grateful pattering of water hitting the tub. Steam rose quickly, covering the small bathroom in a thin, warm cloud. The girl reached out a hand to test the temperature, and retracted it quickly when scalding hot water poured through her fingers, "Ahh!" She preferred her shower to be at the temperature just before scalding, and adjusted the knobs accordingly. When it was just right, Adele stepped carefully into the tub and closed the curtain. The rushing water matted her long blonde hair to her body and she sank to her butt under the running water. Goosebumps raced up her arms and down her spine as her skin got used to the warmth of the shower. Hugging her knees tight, Adele's eyes closed, feeling relaxed for perhaps the first time since being sent on the mission in Rome. It was so hot in here and her muscles were finally resting, her eyelids did not want to open; and Adele drifted off to sleep with the water soaking through her.
Some time later, the young woman woke, cold water battering down on her, shivering. How long she'd been asleep, she wasn't sure, but her hands were as wrinkled as prunes. "Scheiße ficken!" Scrubbing herself quickly with soap, Adele rinsed and got out of the freezing shower. For the feast, she chose black skinny jeans and a plain black shirt under her hoodie. It would take too long to try and comb through her hair at this point, so the girl shoved a beanie over the wet, tangled mess, and walked briskly downstairs to the main hall.
To her surprise, she wasn't late; only Pablo had made his way to the dining hall yet. She walked passed all the tables to where Pablo and Alena were and sat down next to her friend, giving him a small smile, "I thought I overslept for a moment..." She rubbed her pruney fingers together and looked around. There were going to be so many people here.

[Peter Sharpe]

Pablo was right. After all the three of them had been through together, it was nearly inconceivable that Arai could have been killed. Pete, Pablo, and Arai had eluded death on countless occasions in their younger days, and time had only made them stronger and wiser. Besides, it was no use focusing on what may have happened to her... the second she resurfaced, Sharpe's agents would send word. For a moment, he wondered if his agents in America had actually found evidence of Arai's demise, and were simply unable to track down their leader in Europe. He quickly cast such dark thoughts from his mind as Pablo attempted to console him with a pat on the back. "Pablo, of course you can still call me Pete. It will be a pleasant change... every time the pups back home call me sir, I feel that much older.He almost laughed at the though. Why should he care about getting older? As a Lycan, he was immortal, and soon enough his body would cease to age, remaining in it's prime until the end of time or he was killed; whichever came first.

Pete would have likely remained completely oblivious to Geoff's speech, pondering whether or not he would have a mid-life crisis if he was immortal, had his step-brother not taken the time to address him directly. But soon enough Geoff ended his speech, and Alena picked up where he had left off. Again, most of words simply passed right by him, regardless of how eloquently they were spoken. His mind was elsewhere. By the time he had come to his senses, Alena had all but finished her oration. Though he had been absent minded for the vast majority of it, he was fortunate enough to vaguely recall something about a feast of some sort to be held later that day.

With nowhere to be, Sharpe set out to explore the rest of the Lycan's Den. Though he had been to Sweden several times in years past, his visits had always been all business. As he walked through hallway after hallway of living quarters, he couldn't help but appreciate his surroundings. Though far from luxurious, there was something comfortable about den. The rooms in the living quarters housed a single occupant, and though they were plainly furnished, many of the rooms even had their own bathrooms attached. It was all so much different than the den he had established in New York, where you would find steel and concrete rather than oak and pine. The Den in New York held no private quarters, all of the Lycans trained, ate, and slept as a unit... Pete had always insisted that it only reinforced the pack mentality. But perhaps there was something to be said for the privacy of one's own space.
Perhaps I'll ask Alena during the feast if there are any rooms available. Pete pondered. Oh shit! The feast!

Luckily, by the time he'd arrived, the feast hadn't yet started. Moreover, Pablo had the foresight to save his old friend a seat, almost as if he'd known Pete would have nearly missed the event. Pete plopped down into the seat to pablo's right, and breaking tradition spoke out loud. So, I think I might stay in Europe for awhile.

[Damien]

Damien had never been one for a speech. He likely would have remained to hear of his fellow lycans heroic deeds, had the large man not expressed such sympathy for young Damien's tragic injury. He wasn't sure what had been more painful; his shattered ulna, or his shattered pride. Not only had Mr. Muscles gone as far as to inform the entire upper eschelon of Damien's blunderous bone breaking incident, but he opened his speech with the sugar-coated pity. Damien had never been one for pity, from anybody, but least of which from present company. He had intended on coming home as a hero, having successfully driven the lycan spearhead into the throat of Rome's underworld. He hadn't intended on standing before one of Alena's playthings, regailing the crowd with stories of how the mighty Damien Golden-eyes, the son of the Lycan Lord Perrin, had been fallen prey to a single vampire in a dark alley. How Damien had been taken from the frontlines to lick his wounds like a wounded pup. Needless to say, he didn't stick around for the conclusion.

Instead, Damien left the study, quickly and quietly, setting off for his room on the ground level of the east wing. He had requested the room for a single purpose; thought the room itself was rather small compared to some of the larger single occupant suites on the third floor of the west wing, his room was the closest to the building's source of hot water. This meant that he had an endless supply of scorching liquid at his disposal, something he had taken advantage of for years. Damien would often blow off steam so to speak, soaking in the shower of his cramped, sauna-like bathroom for sometimes up to an hour at a time. Without breaking stride, he'd stripped down to his boxers, the white ones with the red hearts, before even reaching his room. After all, most of the den's occupants were likely still in the third floor study.

After he was confident that with a moment or two longer his entire body would lyse, he stepped out of the shower, painstakingly towelling himself dry with his good arm, gingerly holding his right arm close to his midriff. Despite not having attended the latter part of the debriefing, Damien was fully aware that there would be a feast in celebration. They had certainly feasted for lesser victories; and this... this was a victory that pups would talk about for centuries to come. For a moment, Damien worried that he hadn't even the slightest inkling as to when the feast would be held. Luckily, the clamor and commotion that go hand in hand with a Lycanthropic feast could have been picked up by even the most inebriated and elderly of humans. After donning a tattered pair of jeans and a blue hoodie, he carefully slipped his arm into a sling, and departed for the great hall, which sounded as if it were currently under siege by vikings, or some other group of sea-faring barbarians.

Upon entering the room, Damien realized that he was one of the last few Lycans to arrive. At first glance, it didn't appear as if there were any seats left, but closer inspection revealed that there was indeed one seat unoccupied... next to Adele. Damien was mortified. Though recently, Damien had accepted that she wasn't the pampered, useless twat he had originally thought her for, he never got around to telling her that she had done well in Rome. Conversations between the two often started and ended with violence. He almost winced at the thought of actually conversing with the girl...

Instead, he winced at the sudden invasion of his mind. He'd felt this mind many times before... it's alien presence enveloped his thoughts with barely restrained bloodlust before saying two simple words. Sit, child.

He didn't want to look, but there the empty seat was, next to a smiling Alena. Her demeanor was calm, collected, and refined... but Damien had seen that look in her eyes before. She was out for blood.