[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]tw gore, cursing, & death
Jagger loved his life.
Where would he be without the presence of Abaddon? Dead, or worse, livin' a stinking life that derived from sin. Here, though, he was free. To live as a servant to The Pastor, to grow n' discover himself. At just eighteen years old, Jagger wanted to build himself a legacy. Something, he imagined, that when his time came to transition to Paradise that mortality would remember him. Someone that ain't only praise Abaddon's goodness, but do the honors of revealing any fake that stalked Isaac's territory. There was more than just the runners out there. There was plenty a' disloyal vermin, intaking Abaddon's riches in hopes they'd need not to provide nothin' in return. Jagger hoped they found it clear there was a bargain. One that not only the faithful, but the faithless as well.
What sucked about the faithless stayers, however, is he ain't able to do shit with them. Not like he can the runners. Samuel's decision of sacrifice manufactured a bunch of 'em as of late. This one is going on his fourth and fifth to be exact. Henry and Penny. One had been his friend, the other his lover. Both shared three beautiful children; children that would have passed on a pleasant legacy had it not been for their parent's betrayal. What a shame, it was. However, Jagger isn't worried. He'd assure that his three years were spent reassuring that these children were lead to a path, embellished in The Pastor's light. Any narrative these two constructed will be left in the shit with these two, who will not be welcomed by immortality but an eternal darkness. What a sad way to end runaway love, he thought.
"Fuck you." The words were bloody vicious n' literally so. Henry's already got a nice ass whoopin', the pained words dripping dark red from his mouth. Gross. The words are nearly drowned out by Blake Shelton's, God's Country on an old radio that's perched carefully on a log, powered on what's juice is left of a battery. Jagger loves that thing. Soon he might have to get the batteries replaced, but they gettin' a little harder to come across. Right now is all that matters, though, as he bellows out the lyrics, his friends caterwauling behind him. The scenerey was grotesque; a sight that excited him. His adrenaline pumped, coursing through his veins.
Jagger stops short of his drunken pacing, crouches eye-level with the other man before him. The other now kneels, his neck secured by nothing but rope. He really is fucked up, the poor guy. But only wrongdoers get treated as such. "You are my friend, Henry. It really pains me to see you lose your way now. . . you was so close to a life beyond this. Better than this." It's hard to tell whether Jagger's voice held any semblance of truth; if so, it don't reflect in his eyes. They're about as unfeeling as a rock left out in the rain.
"You know this is full of shit, Jagger. There [I]is no life beyond this. You're sacrificing your life for nothing."[/I] Jagger's lip curls, face darkening into a scowl. Once Henry had been just about as Loving as he and now what's changed? "And who exactly told you that?" Jagger inquired, cocking his head, jutting his head over towards an weeping Penny. "This bitch?"
[I]Spat. Jagger recoils, salivated blood dripping from his chin. Slowly, his hand runs over his face, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips. He could have let this go, but Henry continues, "You know you're a hypocrite right? You sought the wrongdoing of others, as if it'll clear you of your own sins; but they don't, Jagger, and when your Judgement Day, and it will, I hope you realize it. Only your God won't be as forgiving as you'd hoped." Shut the fuck up. And the words are repeated. Who is he to judge? He doesn't know him! Jagger has been nothing but devoted and Good! Righteous and Kind. By Jagger's declamation , he'd even hoped to get Henry to rethink, repent! No man black-hearted and dissolute would grant such a honor. But Jagger was beginning to think there was no redemption, not for Henry. He'd already plunged in the depths of a darkness he can't escape. Disillusioned and blinded himself with the love of an outsider
Of course, these thoughts coursed his brain for only two seconds; it didn't take him even that to raise his shotgun to the woman behind him, obliterating her with one fatal shot to her head. Matter got on those around her, including Jagger. But no one was quite affected like Henry. He broke. Cried. Screamed. Whatever he did ain't matter, though. They was burrowed deep in the cornfield where the only ears that mattered was the ones that grew from the ground. "Don't be such a fuckin' whimp. You see what I did? I took out the source." He should be thankful, if nothing else. Without her, there was no evil influence. This was his one last shot of redemption. Jagger fishes through his bag until he finds it— an old tattered version of the Old Testament. He turns to a random page.
"'Behold days are coming,'" he is reciting a verse that Kai had during sermon once; he doesn't know how to read the words on page. "'when I will send a famine on the land. Not a famine for bread or a thirst for water, but for hearing the words of the lord." He sets the book down on the ground, this time standing up to assure the other didn't get blood-spit on his face again. "They mama might have died a sinner but that don't mean daddy has to." Hunger was one hell of a thing, wasn't it? But Abaddon's word could be filling enough.
Henry is left alone with the corpse of his runaway love while an excited Jagger? Needed a new shirt.
Jagger loved his life.
Where would he be without the presence of Abaddon? Dead, or worse, livin' a stinking life that derived from sin. Here, though, he was free. To live as a servant to The Pastor, to grow n' discover himself. At just eighteen years old, Jagger wanted to build himself a legacy. Something, he imagined, that when his time came to transition to Paradise that mortality would remember him. Someone that ain't only praise Abaddon's goodness, but do the honors of revealing any fake that stalked Isaac's territory. There was more than just the runners out there. There was plenty a' disloyal vermin, intaking Abaddon's riches in hopes they'd need not to provide nothin' in return. Jagger hoped they found it clear there was a bargain. One that not only the faithful, but the faithless as well.
What sucked about the faithless stayers, however, is he ain't able to do shit with them. Not like he can the runners. Samuel's decision of sacrifice manufactured a bunch of 'em as of late. This one is going on his fourth and fifth to be exact. Henry and Penny. One had been his friend, the other his lover. Both shared three beautiful children; children that would have passed on a pleasant legacy had it not been for their parent's betrayal. What a shame, it was. However, Jagger isn't worried. He'd assure that his three years were spent reassuring that these children were lead to a path, embellished in The Pastor's light. Any narrative these two constructed will be left in the shit with these two, who will not be welcomed by immortality but an eternal darkness. What a sad way to end runaway love, he thought.
"Fuck you." The words were bloody vicious n' literally so. Henry's already got a nice ass whoopin', the pained words dripping dark red from his mouth. Gross. The words are nearly drowned out by Blake Shelton's, God's Country on an old radio that's perched carefully on a log, powered on what's juice is left of a battery. Jagger loves that thing. Soon he might have to get the batteries replaced, but they gettin' a little harder to come across. Right now is all that matters, though, as he bellows out the lyrics, his friends caterwauling behind him. The scenerey was grotesque; a sight that excited him. His adrenaline pumped, coursing through his veins.
Jagger stops short of his drunken pacing, crouches eye-level with the other man before him. The other now kneels, his neck secured by nothing but rope. He really is fucked up, the poor guy. But only wrongdoers get treated as such. "You are my friend, Henry. It really pains me to see you lose your way now. . . you was so close to a life beyond this. Better than this." It's hard to tell whether Jagger's voice held any semblance of truth; if so, it don't reflect in his eyes. They're about as unfeeling as a rock left out in the rain.
"You know this is full of shit, Jagger. There [I]is no life beyond this. You're sacrificing your life for nothing."[/I] Jagger's lip curls, face darkening into a scowl. Once Henry had been just about as Loving as he and now what's changed? "And who exactly told you that?" Jagger inquired, cocking his head, jutting his head over towards an weeping Penny. "This bitch?"
[I]Spat. Jagger recoils, salivated blood dripping from his chin. Slowly, his hand runs over his face, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips. He could have let this go, but Henry continues, "You know you're a hypocrite right? You sought the wrongdoing of others, as if it'll clear you of your own sins; but they don't, Jagger, and when your Judgement Day, and it will, I hope you realize it. Only your God won't be as forgiving as you'd hoped." Shut the fuck up. And the words are repeated. Who is he to judge? He doesn't know him! Jagger has been nothing but devoted and Good! Righteous and Kind. By Jagger's declamation , he'd even hoped to get Henry to rethink, repent! No man black-hearted and dissolute would grant such a honor. But Jagger was beginning to think there was no redemption, not for Henry. He'd already plunged in the depths of a darkness he can't escape. Disillusioned and blinded himself with the love of an outsider
Of course, these thoughts coursed his brain for only two seconds; it didn't take him even that to raise his shotgun to the woman behind him, obliterating her with one fatal shot to her head. Matter got on those around her, including Jagger. But no one was quite affected like Henry. He broke. Cried. Screamed. Whatever he did ain't matter, though. They was burrowed deep in the cornfield where the only ears that mattered was the ones that grew from the ground. "Don't be such a fuckin' whimp. You see what I did? I took out the source." He should be thankful, if nothing else. Without her, there was no evil influence. This was his one last shot of redemption. Jagger fishes through his bag until he finds it— an old tattered version of the Old Testament. He turns to a random page.
"'Behold days are coming,'" he is reciting a verse that Kai had during sermon once; he doesn't know how to read the words on page. "'when I will send a famine on the land. Not a famine for bread or a thirst for water, but for hearing the words of the lord." He sets the book down on the ground, this time standing up to assure the other didn't get blood-spit on his face again. "They mama might have died a sinner but that don't mean daddy has to." Hunger was one hell of a thing, wasn't it? But Abaddon's word could be filling enough.
Henry is left alone with the corpse of his runaway love while an excited Jagger? Needed a new shirt.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: center; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.4;"]I'M [I]HIGH AS A PRIVATE JET. â€â€