SCREAMING CONFERENCE
October 10th, xxxx
THE CONFERENCE ROOM IS a cacophony of noise, Alpha North wants to bury his head in sand with only worms and maggots for company. At least, he wouldn't be dealing with a mammoth sized headache.
Trying and failing to block out the noise, he stares at the chandelier—a real chandelier complete with teardrop crystals reaching down like suspended rain, its pregnant frame appearing heavy for the ceiling it hung from.
He wonders if the party would stop screaming if the chandelier were to smash to the ground.
He shakes out that idea when Alpha Ulu Sky pounds the table with big, meaty hands, black hair sticking to her temples and nape at the exertion, mouth going a mile a minute not hearing nor is she being heard, voices drowning each other out.
He wished the voices just drowned, period.
Precious glances about the conference room a.k.a dining area, nothing particularly jumping out to him in interest. Way back when he was first invited to the dining area, the flowers peeking beyond the arched doorway used to pique his interest.
The arched doorway leads to tall, obstructive and distracting foliage—purple, red, pink, blue, the cultivated pride and joy of the owner of the manor.
Beyond the flowers is a fountain. Not because he'd seen it but can hear the gushing of running water. The backyard is non-verbally off-limits to guests that even if assigned a room upstairs, the fountain is conveniently wedged away from view.
The flower garden on the other hand can be admired from the dining area and if one is in a room upstairs, they can see beyond the flowers to an acre of orange orchard; orange trees in perfect harmony with cherry trees, the pink and orange a wonder.
Rooms are given at random but the room with the full view of the orchard and cherry trees is up for competition and jealousy. Waking up to that scent, that view in the morning bolsters the spirit.
Catching the eye of one of the guards stationed by the doorway, he wondered whether the noise bothered them. If it did they didn't show it.
Tearing his eyes away, he's concerned about the itching in his eyes hoping it isn't bloodshot. Lack of sleep and over three hours of poring over the 1943 treaty have worn him down.
So far none of them have found a key workaround to the ugliness. Alpha business is just paperwork, fancy wording and fielding Ambassador like a batter. (Is probably not even using the right term.)
Air-conditioned room yet the screaming occupants sweated as if they're running a marathon which to their vocal detriment can be equivalent. Nine Alphas when there should be ten.
Absent Alpha Blue. Rather, absentee Alpha. Goddess only knows how he runs his ship. You'll think he'd be concerned but history and thirteen omegas in Precious care has storied that the bastard clearly doesn't.
Not that they are getting any far in solution rendering. In fact, they keep going round in circles not saying anything particularly illuminating.
Trying another distraction, he concentrates on the Alphas, starting with the host. Alpha Constellation. A bundle of hair. Flowing locks stops right above the curve of her butt but most often tidied like a tiered cake on her head, a long colorful scarf the icing snaking around the tresses.
Today, the scarf is flaming red speckled with white, blue and pink, none but the brown of her hair matching her skin; akin to mocha like her eyes, brilliant, unperturbed, seeing through the bullshit.
How Precious came to convince her to join their Packs still eludes him but he won't rock the boat. Her younger brother is to be his mate and her one hundred and twenty soldiers a relief package.
The matter of the proposal is to be his greatest accomplishment ever since becoming an Alpha. And his Pack thanks him for it. He occasionally pats himself for the success too as the Constellation Pack is the biggest and fearsome Pack in the country.
A city of disguised Shifters. Three hundred members seamlessly weaving through the human world without a care, without trouble!
It's no coincidence major conferences concerning the welfare of the ten Packs are conducted in the manor. The manor being the Constellation's headquarters and the place some of the Constellation call home.
The Alpha is aptly nicknamed Manor Alpha.
To her right is Alpha Snowdust, the leanest of them all. An onyx necklace sleeps peacefully on likewise dark chest; she's a poster child of subterfuge, blending into the night like the night itself.
She gleams, grey eyes twinkling like a full moon, thick hair plaited halfway, the curls framing the small of her back, a heart shaped face completing the beauty.
And like the night, she's twice as dangerous. What her Pack lacks in military might, they make up for it in cunning—sly motherfuckers do not take kindly to anyone intruding on their land. Let Alpha Blue try that with them.
Like North Star and Blue Sun, the Snowdust Pack live on the outskirts except farther, farther down teethering closer to the border of another country.
"...refusing as a group would not only offend them—"
"S'right. That fucking, stupid, harebrained Ambassador has it out for my Pack since day one! We've lost too much—"
Drowned out by another voice, Precious peeks at the frustrated Alphas going one-on-one.
Ah. Alpha Ulu and Alpha Ulo, two sides of the same coin. At least that's how the history goes and boy, does either of them hate the history.
According to the history, what is Ulo Pack today had been extracted quite horribly from the Ulu Pack.
Children forcibly torn from their parents—babies, toddlers during the height of the (silent) human-werewolf endless war.
Torn from their parents by werewolves themselves.
As the stories tell it, Pack Ulu refused to bend to the human government year after year, Alpha after Alpha even while losing children soldiers tossed to the battleground with little training.
This of course enraged some of the adults.
They did what they thought was right. The adults could continue fighting but the children should be left out of it.
What happened after gets a bit blurry but the gist of it is that the Ulu lost, over half of them wiped out as they began the arduous process of rebuilding themselves.
Long story short, the Ulo built a home for themselves—far, far away in peace and refused to go back to the Ulu.
Fast forward modern era, the Ulu and the Ulo Pack aren't friends. They prefer not to deal with each other—business done and dusted but they don't invite the other for dinner.
Alpha Ulu is the table pounder, bronze skin glittering sweat like crystals that for a minute—a tiny, split second her thick, bulging neck reminds Precious of a certain Major but the image quickly wipes away to see Alpha Ulo (smaller than, shorter than and lighter bronzed) fling sheets on paper on Alpha Ulu's face.
"If you have any suggestion besides screaming your head off, we're all ears!" He pants staring pointedly at the Alpha's scowling face—silence, seconds ticked by, more silence.
The noise might've died down but his headache sure haven't. The only sound in the room is of him scraping his chair backwards and all eight pair of eyes drifts to him as he stands.
"The day is too young to have a nagging headache but alas, that's what I have," hands in his pockets, he addressed the Alphas, tie feeling like an asphyxiation than an accessory, "I'll be taking my nap early. Anyone want to join me?"
A pointed way of saying cut the screaming and cool off. Manor Alpha picks up the slack.
"Alpha North has the right idea. We'll wine and dine, reconvene another time. Most of you have travelled far, you need your rest."
Alpha Ulu uncurls her body, sinks into the chair—polished teak, a twin to the table—and grumbles, "Three hours and all we've done is scream."
"Yeah, I feel..." a cough, "and talk like shit,"
Alpha Magnolia run a hand through blonde tresses, blonde eyelashes blinking Precious way. "Are you really taking a nap or was that just to make us shut up?"
A wink and an affirmation later, Precious is jogging up the stairs to the third floor escorted by a fast paced staff to what'll be his room for three days.
Not the room with the full view but he can see falling cherry petals, the petals covering the ground like a sea that if he's to wade through it, he's sure to be enveloped and never come out.