C'était étrange d'entrer dans la maison de leurs rivaux, ou plutôt la maison de leurs rivaux autrefois et maintenant alliés. Rylan ne pouvait toujours pas envelopper sa tête autour de la matière confuse. Néanmoins, elle a dû suivre ce qu'Alpha a dit, avec le reste de la meute. Elle pouvait sentir la tension dans l'air même que tout le monde était sur le bord, prêt à attaquer l'autre malgré les ordres de leurs dirigeants. Rylan est restée près de son sac, pas sûr que ce serait trop sûr pour essayer de socialiser avec les vampires. Alpha aussi bien que Keller, le pack de Beta, étaient montés. Elle voulait y aller aussi, mais l'Alpha les a exhortés à rester en place. Bien sûr, sa main droite serait capable d'aller, probablement au cas où quelque chose allait mal. Alors, bien sûr, le reste d'entre eux monterait là-haut.
Eh bien, laissez-nous espérer qu'il n'arrive pas à ça. Et Alpha devrait aller bien. Il est l'Alpha pour une raison, a pensé Rylan, presque en honorant sa propre assurance. Elle a trouvé un siège car elle ne savait pas combien de temps cela allait prendre et regarder autour, regardant n'importe quel art ou d'autres sortes de décor qui était pour l'affichage. Elle n'aimait pas rester assise si longtemps, surtout dans les environs de nombreux vampires.
Elle n'avait pas été si proche de tant auparavant et ce n'était pas les situations les plus confortables. Rylan a pris à se distraire par le moyen de doodling dans son --Conversation Pad-- comme elle a appelé les onze par huit pouces de papier qu'elle a utilisé pour parler avec. Elle avait un téléphone, mais n'était pas savvy technique, il s'est avéré un peu trop difficile pour elle d'utiliser. Elle doutait aussi de la majorité de ceux autour de son signe connu, donc Conversation Pad c'était. Dans les marges, elle dopait des petites versions de dessins animés de son pack, bien qu'elle n'était pas artiste, c'était surtout une figure de bâton regardant des canines. C'était une façon amusante de passer son temps alors qu'elle attendait des nouvelles de ce qu'ils parlaient à l'étage.
Rylan a ensuite percé, comme plusieurs autres, le pack ou le coven, au bruit des gens qui descendaient les escaliers. Les deux leaders, Keller et le leader du Coven, avaient descendu les escaliers. Rylan l'a arrêtée, debout avec intérêt. Elle s'est regroupée avec le reste de la meute. La tension n'a toujours pas hésité, et si quoi que ce soit, a augmenté avec l'émergence des deux dirigeants. Keller faisait de son mieux pour calmer la meute, mais il y avait des questions urgentes que les autres lui tiraient dessus, et il s'agissait de Rylan tenant son tapis de papier sur la tête de ses compagnons de meute, lui demandant aussi ce qui se passait.
Ils se sont vite calmés, non pas que Rylan faisait beaucoup de bruit en premier lieu, comme le chef du Coven a appelé à leur attention. Elle leur avait expliqué qu'ils travailleraient ensemble. La sécurité était en nombre, donc il était logique qu'ils travaillent ensemble. Cependant, dans quelle mesure travailleraient - ils ensemble après avoir été ennemis pendant si longtemps? Elle n'avait pas son mot à dire en la matière puisque Alpha avait également accepté ces questions comme il disait habituellement aller. Elle était scout et son opinion n'avait guère d'importance.
En fin de compte, elle savait que ce regroupement de groupes serait bon pour eux. Elle n'en savait pas grand-chose sur leur plus grand ennemi.  Cacciatori? C'était ça? Ça ressemble à une sorte de pâtes. Non, non, je ne devrais pas penser à la nourriture, c'est important. Je n'ai pas mangé depuis le petit déjeuner. Peut-être que je peux aller chasser après ça... Rylan a perdu la trace de la question à l'instant où l'idée de la nourriture est apparue. Cependant, son train de pensée s'est terminé par le cri de l'Alpha quand les choses sont devenues trop bruyantes de leur côté. Le chef des vampires est retourné à l'étage peu de temps après qu'elle soit descendue.
Avec la fin de la petite séance de réunion, tout le monde a commencé à parler une fois de plus entre eux. Il ne semblait pas que leur chef répondait à beaucoup de questions à l'époque, alors Rylan s'était arrangé pour Keller, qui pourrait en savoir plus qu'elle ne l'a fait. Le scout se dirigea vers la Beta avec un regard curieux évident sur son visage. Elle a demandé en écrivant, en donnant un sourire poli et en restant à quelques pieds d'ici respectable. Rylan a ensuite rapidement ajouté, « Pensez-vous aussi qu'Alpha nous permettra d'organiser une petite séance de chasse? La nourriture a l'air vraiment bonne en ce moment.
I'll make changes if needed:
Mehmet Zengin


"The pack is family. I will always look after you pups."
Nickname: For members of his pack, they may call him much of an assortment of names without much backlash, commonly "Metmet", "Zen", and, only in humorous spirit, "Papa Wolf".
Real Age: 239
Apparent Age: 38
Gender: M
Sexuality: He doesn't particularly seem the type to be interested in anyone, but is likely pansexual.
Species: Werewolf
Role: Alpha
Appearance: Mehmet is a very, very sturdy man. One could punch him in the gut and break their own wrist, and fights with him usually only ended in his opponent's exhaustion. His brow is heavyset, jaw wide and leading into a thick, muscular neck and shoulders. He stands at about six feet two inches, is utterly incapable of getting rid of all of his stubble and is covered in brownish, thick hair on his arms, torso and legs. His tan skin is peppered with the precise scars of a knife, quartered off by the long lashes of a whip. His deep brown eyes are gentle but firm to his pack and unreadable to strangers, and his face has a long scar starting at his right temple, hugging the curve of his jaw, and then raggedly stopping in the cradle of his adam's apple and jugular. He has no tattoos, and broad, thick-fingered hands that sport a single small ring. His wolf form is just as stout and massive, fur a shade lighter than his normal hair. He will almost always be seen wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt, a simple pair of lightwash jeans, a belt and a pair of comfortable hiking shoes. He seems to only have two outfits to choose from: his normal outfit with a T-shirt, and his normal outfit with a jacket.
Personality: It would be impossible to describe Mehmet as serene, but it would also be impossible to not describe him as such. Very paternal, he is a constant presence in the lives of the pack, teaching the young ones and leading his family with a rigidly guiding hand. He appears at ease in many settings in which his pack is with him, letting the children play around him and letting them climb on his back or hang from his outstretched arms. With the older members, he can be a little more unforgiving. Any large mistake is at least met with a stern scolding, lecture, and then demonstration on what is to be done to fix the issue. His treatment of the pack could be then described as overbearing, so focused on the improvement and wellbeing of his family that much of his energy points internally. Many know to let him rest should the rare time comes when he actually does, respecting his hard work and obsessive dedication.
He is plagued by the trauma of a past he cannot let go of. If he is not talking of matters with the pack, he is recalling his experiences during his capture at the hands of Cacciatori, how he came to find his pack, how he rose through the ranks, his family bloodline, how he watched the Ottoman Empire fall and a new empire rise up. He gives his experiences freely, but to ask of his feelings on anything is to intrude so harshly that he goes into a dark, dark place for a long while. The trauma at his long-ago capture is triggered most powerfully by the sight of whips, being held down, or binding paraphernalia such as collars, handcuffs, rope or chains. Each reaction can be weaker or stronger dependent upon the situation. During a flashback, he can become very violent and blinded with imagery, sometimes only calmed by the familiar scent or touch of a pack member.
History: Born into the Ottoman empire near its height and during its wars with Russia, Mehmet rose to be a highly esteemed nobleman at a young age under the tutelage of his father. While the revolutions in America and France roared on, he was commanding growing markets and toying with reforms. Modernization brought with it a variety of outsiders, and his family was soon surrounded by foreigners looking for work. His parents were both werewolves whom had involved themselves in human economic affairs, shunned from packhood on all sides due to their human-gained fortune. Mehmet, their only son, grew to follow humanity's laws and customs, growing up with a high, trusting opinion of them. That all changed during the Balkan Wars. Cacciatori from Italy itself invaded his homeland, the land he's lived on for decades, and rooted out the pack nearest his home. His family was lucky, if only because they did not involve with any pack, but the Cacciatori tortured their location out of a pack member and found them anyway.
Mehmet's parents were taken off, never to be seen again, while Mehmet himself was dragged into the new Cacciatori headquarters, where he was kept for nearly ten years. During that time, the Cacciatori tested out new nonlethal torture methods, tormented and humiliated him daily, even putting a tight collar about his neck and calling him a filthy dog. Whenever they needed someone to haul rocks for a mass Immortal grave, he would be forced to throw 100-pound stones from the bottom of a pit to the edge, then haul bodies inside. Eventually, he became stronger than any other prisoner, and to keep him efficient the Cacciatori fed him just a little more. After ten years of hell, he escaped one night by snapping a guard's neck, bursting through a ten-story window and running from cars and search teams for several miles into the forest. Even so long ago, the memories still haunt him. He found a boat to America, there learning English, finding a pack and joining his werewolf kinsmen for the first time. With his strength, experience with Cacciatori methods and acute sense of human processes, he rose through the ranks, fought his way to the top and ultimately took over his own full pack. Even today he still wonders about the fate of his parents, praying emptily they did not at least suffer.
Other: His threshold for pain is incredibly high, but past a certain limit and he will often go into a crippling state of flashback. His scars are old enough that they do not hurt when touched. He also hates uneaten food, eating the leftovers of pack members should they allow him to so that he could avoid wasting precious food.