4 ALPHA NORTH
October 6th, xxxx
NUKA GETS A KICK out of selecting clothes for him to wear, Precious thinks, amused, not for the first time.
He watches the boy flurry about him smoothing creases that aren't there, cleans the whole length of the suit with a lint roller, bothers the cufflinks, fixes the bronze jewellery brooch on the jacket's lapel, pins a miniature pocket watch atop, fidgets with the wine handkerchief in his left jacket pocket.
Precious takes himself in; hair fixed tight in a bun, a bronze brooch slashed through it like a cut, curls gelled down popping the black of his irises, the slope of his cheekbones, highlighting the faint flesh scar that runs under his right eyebag like a distracted eyeliner slip-up.
Nuka takes a sort of vicarious pride in his sartorial elegance that even though he only wears complete set of suits, gleaming shoes (leather or cloth) to top, the ensemble always ignites a sort of dressmaker passion.
Precious takes pride in his sartorial elegance too. He couldn't imagine that there are people out there that don't take extra care in their appearance, their fashion.
If only he could sport a cane without looking like a predisposed pimp or mafia or Goddess forbid, like the Blue Sun Alpha, he'd have walked around with it.
But as originality went, Precious will not be caught dead copying another signature look much lest a tyrannical look. It is enough that they are comically compared to by other Alphas and are uncomfortably close, he will look like an absolute fool otherwise.
Waiting patiently for Nuka to finish his intense concentration on his shoes, Precious casually dips his hands in his pockets and posed, loving how the dark blue of the suit clashed finely with the silkness of his dark hair, white shirt mirroring the glint of his fangs.
Confidence behind clothes, a stray thought flashed but he pays it no mind. It is too early of a morning to be shaken by useless thoughts. The birds sings and through the curtains, he sees how bright today would turn out to be.
He only hopes bastard Alpha Blue doesn't dampen his morning cause he sure as hell ruined his night. A frown mars his beautiful face, the colour of the morning almost turning sour.
He holds everyone accountable to their actions, their promises but he especially holds Alphas to stricter expectations because what is the point of making a promise if you will not keep them?
An Alpha's promise is their bond. He doesn't imagine that the rumours flying about of Alpha Blue changing his word like napkins is exaggerated.
Though living as close as twin rivers and of him sending omegas to waste Precious time, there hasn't been a reason for them to meet face-to-face alone not until recently.
Not until three months ago when he'd had enough of Blue Sun omegas running through his turf like it is a playground. He'd taken the initiative to invite himself to the Blue Sun territory, bothered the Alpha for a meeting to try and resolve this territory issue once and for all.
Back then, he'd been shocked of how forthcoming the Alpha had been—it'd seemed that he too wanted to resolve the issue but was having too much fun disturbing Precious peace that a discourse hadn't crossed his mind.
Two weeks ago, they finally reached a consensus that on the fifteenth of this month, there'll be a lengthy decision debate. Specifically speaking, nine days from today of which Precious had forced him to promise there'll be no more unnecessary turf fighting—no more sending omegas.
He really hates people breaking their promises.
"All set, Alpha." Nuka beams, the fullness of his cheeks hinting at how young he is—just seventeen.
He recalls the day he found the boy lurking around his backyard, wild-eyed and bushy tailed—literally—as if waiting for someone to catch him, dumped without regard to his safety. That still annoys him truly. He can't believe that an Alpha that doesn't care about his omegas exists.
Nuka could've been seriously hurt. Impressionable, young, reeking of a fresh desperation to be accepted, to be seen that he'd been willing to put himself in the sight of an Alpha tested to go over the boundary and declare a claimant war once and for all.
A year ago. Leaving sixteen year olds to fend for themselves isn't only selfish but callous as all hell. But maybe that day had been a fluke or a strange sort of occurrence but the omegas sent after that day have been older than seventeen.
Not that that is better.
"How do I look?"
"Perfect as always. If my eye's a camera, you'll find your pictures in them."
Shaking his head, he ruffles the boy's hair used to his unabashed compliments. Leaving the house with Nuka in tow, he comes face-to-face with a scowling Cam, arms folded across his chest. He isn't looking at Precious. Nor talking to him.
"It's every morning you give me the silent treatment, Cam," he says as way of greeting, nods at Kamil but doesn't stop as they walk towards the car warming up.
Kamil opens the passenger door, at alert, eagle eyes roving the perimeter as if expecting a horde of horses to come stampeding towards them.
Nuka on the other hand rushes to the driver's side but doesn't enter, animatedly greeting the stoic faced driver who has no option but to grunt a greeting.
Anyone faced with bubbly Nuka rarely have options not to. He imagines the day that Nuka will be of age to drive a car, Alpha North will probably have to hold on for dear life as he does when he drives the sleds during winter. That kid does everything animatedly.
If not that human interaction is necessary when venturing closer to their civilization, Nuka would've been driving the car since the day he asked. A bit of silver lining.
"Kamil is the one escorting me? Not you?"
"If I see that bastard, I'll most likely start a fight. And to end a fight is why you're going there, isn't it?"
A casual shrug but Precious notices the rigidity of it, the tensing of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes. He didn't know how to tell Cam that omegas truly posed no threat to him.
Well, he has told him, several times at that but Cam doesn't listen. He listens to no one but his fists really. Strong like a rock, yes? Unlike....
"It's a fine morning to be sour," he says as way of parting, scrubbing his face free from unwanted thoughts just as Kamil closed the door.
"It is a fine morning, indeed. Good morning, Alpha," the driver briefly turns in her seat to smile at him and he returns it just as Kamil returns Nuka's wave, chuckling to himself.
Sinking into the plush leather seat as the car pulls out the driveway, Precious stares out the car window deep in thought, taking in the few L-shaped family houses they passed, the lonely road ahead surrounded by the canyon to the left and billowing leaves from willow trees falling on the ground, on their car, crushed by windshield and tyres.
Another autumn have arrived. Another year as the Alpha almost gone. Seven years of the same old bullshit, the same old tactics, the same old preying on their sixty three Pack. The smallest in the area as opposed to the one hundred and twenty three of the Blue Sun.
How the Blue Sun multiplies despite flushing out twelve omegas to him in a year baffles him. At least, regardless of the Alpha bastard obvious bullying, it's been a quiet year.
Or quieter than when he became the Alpha, than when he didn't know didly squat, than when the Elders folded their arms and watched him fold under.
But Precious didn't crumble. No matter the greedy craziness of the human government, the slight suspicions of the remote village the car rumbles past, he's become used to this thing called leading.
He doesn't want to believe he's still bullshitting his way through.
Passing rows of houses; signs of life, distant noises like the opening of a cupboard, the whirring of a ceiling fan, the harsh calling of a child, clanking of spoons on bowls—the rousing of humans.
Nothing special. Normal. Like them. There's nothing suspicious about humans after all. They might be two different species living in mutual harmony but they aren't entirely different.
To the humans, they are a tribe of local yet civilized people who don't interact much outside of their circle; just two different tribes speaking the same language (of sorts), wearing similar clothing, enjoying the seasons the land has to offer.
Why the Blue Sun Pack just have to settle closer to the town annoys him. No, not that. Other Packs settle right into the town. Everything about the Blue Sun Pack irks him.
When the car jerks and enters the small, sleepy town he that should be called a bigger village, its residents noisier and friendlier than the village they share a border with.
They don't pass the heart of the bigger village; instead taking the farming route, the rearing hills surrounding the village like a bowl of soup.
From here, Precious can see the slope of the canyon but can't hear the gushing of the river inside its stomach.
If he is to crane his neck while standing atop the car, he will be able to see the silver glints of the waterfall—well, he knows where the waterfall is and can imagine it clearly.
Taking a turn into a dusty road through a cluster of trees that doesn't provide much cover do they arrive at the doorstop of the Blue Sun Pack.
Unlike the housing of the North Star circular L-shape compound, the Blue Sun Pack prides themselves on rows of huts with backyards big enough to host a farm, a pond and windmill.
Getting out the car, Precious stays there for a second staring off to the distance to the east of him—the east of him where the Winter Forest lies off yonder—where a shining new watch tower like a skyscraper in the city and just as incongruous.
That hadn't been there three months ago.
"Makes you wonder what they're watching out for, doesn't it?" Kamil says, frowning into the distance.
"Must be that the beauty of our canyon has stolen their hearts," he deadpans, striding towards the modern two-storey that is just as inconspicuous—different from the huts, bigger than the huts.
"I'm quite certain they're void of hearts."
Glancing at the cream painted house, the wooden aged door that looks more antique than rotting, its wolfhead brass knocker a rule, Precious fights the urge to sigh. Let's get this over with.
Marching up to the house, he tries the door and to his surprise it opens. For a split second, Precious agrees with Cam at how laid-back he is with his security—anyone can enter as they please, sneak up on him and drive a dagger through his back.
But he dismisses the thought when the door creaks open, the whine of it scratching and is promptly relieved when it closed.
When a werewolf becomes an Alpha, their already heightened hearing—everything really, including the intensity of a shift—becomes greater, super, overwhelming but the silver lining is that it comes with a setting.
A learn how to control setting.
They stand there in the hallway listening for signs of life but its dulled like the blunt of his hearing but he picks up the drowsiness in the air. Mornings in the Blue Sun Pack sure start late.
Heading towards what Precious dimly remembers as the Alpha's office, he opens it to find a scantily clad omega draped across the sprawled Alpha on a sofa, another wrapped loosely in his arm, looking like toppings on the Alpha's honey skin.
From the looks of it, the interruption isn't appreciated. Kamil steps in first then stands aside for him. And when he meets the unguarded gaze of the Alpha, Precious hides a smile at the scowl forming on his lips.
Caring none for politeness or small talk, Precious cuts to the chase using the opportunity of catching him off-guard. Doesn't feel too good, eh Blue Sun?
"Your word is your bond?" he repeats the Alpha's assertion, eyes narrowed in disappointment. "Or will you tell me you had no idea your betas incited a quarrel again?"
The Alpha opens his mouth but Precious isn't done talking.
"Except that's worse. If you had no idea your betas disobeyed the rules of your promise, what kind of Alpha are you?"
When the Alpha's brown eyes darken, the smile Precious hides reveals itself knowing he struck a nerve.
When Alpha Blue move to stand, the omega straddled by his side stretches and leaps up, the silk of his robe showcasing dark-skinned nakedness.
Out of respect, Precious averts his gaze only now focusing that the room smells like early morning lazy sex. Alpha Blue seems to have forgotten about their presence, leering instead at the openly naked boy waddling, half-asleep.
"Come here," the gruff authority drops ice-like sweat on his body that for a second longer than a minute, his brain shuts down; he propels a foot forward before his eye refocused, stopping himself in time.
Displeased at his reaction, red flares in his eye and in a low growl condescends,
"Nine days, Blue Sun. Can you do that? Keep your wolves in check?"
"Goddess, you bitch. I heard you. I'll put a leash on them."
"You better. Because if I see any of your wolf near my territory, I'll believe they do not respect you as Alpha. I'll know your leadership means nothing to them."
With that, he turns on his heel and leaves a raging Alpha behind. Still fuming and berating himself for that embarrassing almost lapse in sense that by the time they arrive at his doorstep, he is so out of it he doesn't realize someone's talking to him until his attention is called.
"Yes?"
"Your morning is ruined, sour," Kamil says referring to what he said short of two hours ago. "I think a walk will clear your head. Regardless, it's still a fine morning."
"Raincheck," he spits, stomping up and away into the confines of his office.
