10-27-2020, 01:06 PM
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❝ BETTER HUMANITY. BETTER VITALITY. BETTER PRODUCTIVITY...
BETTER LIVING. BE THE CHANGE YOU WISH TO S- ❞
The tips of two fingers twisted the dial sharply to the left, the small off-white radio silenced and making way for booming chatter in the background. That goddamn slogan was so overused that the very words left a bitter taste in Benedict's mouth and a heavy pit in his stomach. Every single time. Gage would tell him countlessly that the radio was a good-for-nothing piece of shit; all of the Better Living slogans and jingles that plagued their ears after every single song or news report. He even tried to point out that all radios from the city had been bugged for the government's prying ears, and that the rebels could so easily be traced by radiolocation and apprehended against their will.
Well, it hadn't yet happened in the three years Better Living were at the helm of the city, so Benedict could only question the validity of Gage's conspiracies.
At the table Benedict sat at also sat his mother, Lisbit. Hair like a dark confiture, if her skin were any lighter then she may have seemed to be likely indisposed. But, like Benedict, her face was sun-kissed from her many days out in the decaying world that she chose to survive in. The city wouldn't maintain the four walls of a traitor, buildings growing more fragile with each passing year. Their front door no longer locked and Benedict would have to pull all of his weight backwards if he wished to shut it from the inside. Lisbit would always point out that the wood had swollen because Benedict's father had never treated it before he left. It was some feeble attempt to do what he thought was right - head to the city and provide for the family. Little did he know that once Better Living had gotten a hold of his mind, he'd no longer remember the love he had at home.
Lisbit was slowly nearing her golden years at the ripe age of fifty seven, but she was not the old woman that one would feel pity towards with her feeble bones and sunken in features. She was the kind who could run an army if given half the chance. It was no surprise to find where Benedict's tenacity came from. Together, the two of them were more similar that they'd ever give each other credit for.
❝ I think they're ready for you. ❞ She pointed out matter-of-factly, Benedict's eyes searching his mother's features before he used two hands to push himself up away from the table. ❝ Come with me. You know they love you. ❞ Benedict held his hand out, brows raised expectantly towards her before Lisbit swatted his hand away. ❝ They're here to see you, not me. Now go - I'll be in the crowd watching. ❞ Slowly, Benedict lowered his hand, a soft smile of affection sat on his lips as he was met with the most loving eyes a mother could muster before he turned and left their makeshift pole tent.
Chatter turned into passionate chants as Benedict climbed assorted crates to reach the scaffolding that allowed for him to see every face in the deficient crowd. The movement was still young, many people still hesitant to fight for change. But, with every meeting like this, and every step they took to prepare for this crusade, the crowd swiftly began to grow. Old faces and new faces, Benedict met the gaze of many as he looked at them. His eyes were like fire within ice as he searched the fervent rebels. The passion in icy blues, in the same way the hottest of fires always burned blue. The crowd of rebels slowly simmered into quiet whispers of anticipation, Benedict wrapping his hand around the scaffolding to keep his balance on rickety placed crates before his voice rang through the air.
❝ The revolution is coming in hot. We can see it in the way the Swine are so frantically trying to reinforce the city. They anticipate our arrival, but they do so with fear in their hearts because they know that what they are doing is wrong. Sickening. ❞ Lip curled with disgust as Benedict slowly shook his head. The crowd agreed with a plethora of shouts of agreement. ❝ There may be more of them than there are of us, but they fear us all the same - as they should. As they fucking should! ❞
Cheers erupted in the rowdy crowd, Benedict looking at the faces of the revolution proudly. Until his eyes landed on Rowan. Like a mouse in a pride of lions, Rowan would continue to stand in the most unassuming of ways. He was a whisper whilst the others were a shout, and it only caught Benedict's eye even more. Eyes lingered on him for a second too long before Benedict continued to scan the crowd. He was a person that Benedict could only wish to trust, but no one deserved that faith one could have in another from Benedict anymore. He'd been betrayed one too many times, his heart shattered and trust misplaced on enough occasions that trusting another meant nothing to him anymore. Rowan was a stable presence ever since the birth of the revolution, but merely a man that Benedict could half-rely on to see him stood among the rest of the rebels.
❝ Next thing on our agenda - seize the Bliss reapers on the New Haven Route 20. Lets burn all of their Bliss pills. Hell, lets film it and get it on every single big screen in the whole fucking city! ❞ With a crinkled up nose and a subversive grin on his face, Benedict watched the excitement of the crowd as they cheered for society's freedom. Without their Bliss, the Droids would eventually snap out of the reverie that they've been living in. Without their Bliss, Better Living would collapse. Drugs were their power, so Benedict would do everything in his power to disarm them. ❝ The next reaping unit arrives this afternoon. The Swine have weapons, but we do too. Lets fucking dust 'em all! ❞
The rebels roared with great vehemence as Benedict jumped down from the stack of crates he stood upon, checking his phone to view once more the text message that Gage had sent him earlier. The dubious agreement to attempt to hack into the city's billboard media streams. Anything to get the word out to the city that the revolution was coming. Gage was far more technologically advanced than Benedict could ever be, but always so goddamn flaky and undependable. He could help Benedict with the revolution for as long as he would refrain from cowering away from the fight.
Rebels looked up to Benedict in awe as he walked by the crowd, the revolutionary giving a couple of them a simple greeting or pat on the shoulder as he passed. Until his gaze landed on Rowan once more, this time stood right in front of him. ❝ Are you ready for this afternoon? ❞ Benedict questioned earnestly, brows raising as he searched Rowan's features. He then raised a hand, grabbing Rowan's shoulder before he added, ❝ You know... I actually need you to do something for me. ❞
[color=transparent]u rock !
❝ BETTER HUMANITY. BETTER VITALITY. BETTER PRODUCTIVITY...
BETTER LIVING. BE THE CHANGE YOU WISH TO S- ❞
The tips of two fingers twisted the dial sharply to the left, the small off-white radio silenced and making way for booming chatter in the background. That goddamn slogan was so overused that the very words left a bitter taste in Benedict's mouth and a heavy pit in his stomach. Every single time. Gage would tell him countlessly that the radio was a good-for-nothing piece of shit; all of the Better Living slogans and jingles that plagued their ears after every single song or news report. He even tried to point out that all radios from the city had been bugged for the government's prying ears, and that the rebels could so easily be traced by radiolocation and apprehended against their will.
Well, it hadn't yet happened in the three years Better Living were at the helm of the city, so Benedict could only question the validity of Gage's conspiracies.
At the table Benedict sat at also sat his mother, Lisbit. Hair like a dark confiture, if her skin were any lighter then she may have seemed to be likely indisposed. But, like Benedict, her face was sun-kissed from her many days out in the decaying world that she chose to survive in. The city wouldn't maintain the four walls of a traitor, buildings growing more fragile with each passing year. Their front door no longer locked and Benedict would have to pull all of his weight backwards if he wished to shut it from the inside. Lisbit would always point out that the wood had swollen because Benedict's father had never treated it before he left. It was some feeble attempt to do what he thought was right - head to the city and provide for the family. Little did he know that once Better Living had gotten a hold of his mind, he'd no longer remember the love he had at home.
Lisbit was slowly nearing her golden years at the ripe age of fifty seven, but she was not the old woman that one would feel pity towards with her feeble bones and sunken in features. She was the kind who could run an army if given half the chance. It was no surprise to find where Benedict's tenacity came from. Together, the two of them were more similar that they'd ever give each other credit for.
❝ I think they're ready for you. ❞ She pointed out matter-of-factly, Benedict's eyes searching his mother's features before he used two hands to push himself up away from the table. ❝ Come with me. You know they love you. ❞ Benedict held his hand out, brows raised expectantly towards her before Lisbit swatted his hand away. ❝ They're here to see you, not me. Now go - I'll be in the crowd watching. ❞ Slowly, Benedict lowered his hand, a soft smile of affection sat on his lips as he was met with the most loving eyes a mother could muster before he turned and left their makeshift pole tent.
Chatter turned into passionate chants as Benedict climbed assorted crates to reach the scaffolding that allowed for him to see every face in the deficient crowd. The movement was still young, many people still hesitant to fight for change. But, with every meeting like this, and every step they took to prepare for this crusade, the crowd swiftly began to grow. Old faces and new faces, Benedict met the gaze of many as he looked at them. His eyes were like fire within ice as he searched the fervent rebels. The passion in icy blues, in the same way the hottest of fires always burned blue. The crowd of rebels slowly simmered into quiet whispers of anticipation, Benedict wrapping his hand around the scaffolding to keep his balance on rickety placed crates before his voice rang through the air.
❝ The revolution is coming in hot. We can see it in the way the Swine are so frantically trying to reinforce the city. They anticipate our arrival, but they do so with fear in their hearts because they know that what they are doing is wrong. Sickening. ❞ Lip curled with disgust as Benedict slowly shook his head. The crowd agreed with a plethora of shouts of agreement. ❝ There may be more of them than there are of us, but they fear us all the same - as they should. As they fucking should! ❞
Cheers erupted in the rowdy crowd, Benedict looking at the faces of the revolution proudly. Until his eyes landed on Rowan. Like a mouse in a pride of lions, Rowan would continue to stand in the most unassuming of ways. He was a whisper whilst the others were a shout, and it only caught Benedict's eye even more. Eyes lingered on him for a second too long before Benedict continued to scan the crowd. He was a person that Benedict could only wish to trust, but no one deserved that faith one could have in another from Benedict anymore. He'd been betrayed one too many times, his heart shattered and trust misplaced on enough occasions that trusting another meant nothing to him anymore. Rowan was a stable presence ever since the birth of the revolution, but merely a man that Benedict could half-rely on to see him stood among the rest of the rebels.
❝ Next thing on our agenda - seize the Bliss reapers on the New Haven Route 20. Lets burn all of their Bliss pills. Hell, lets film it and get it on every single big screen in the whole fucking city! ❞ With a crinkled up nose and a subversive grin on his face, Benedict watched the excitement of the crowd as they cheered for society's freedom. Without their Bliss, the Droids would eventually snap out of the reverie that they've been living in. Without their Bliss, Better Living would collapse. Drugs were their power, so Benedict would do everything in his power to disarm them. ❝ The next reaping unit arrives this afternoon. The Swine have weapons, but we do too. Lets fucking dust 'em all! ❞
The rebels roared with great vehemence as Benedict jumped down from the stack of crates he stood upon, checking his phone to view once more the text message that Gage had sent him earlier. The dubious agreement to attempt to hack into the city's billboard media streams. Anything to get the word out to the city that the revolution was coming. Gage was far more technologically advanced than Benedict could ever be, but always so goddamn flaky and undependable. He could help Benedict with the revolution for as long as he would refrain from cowering away from the fight.
Rebels looked up to Benedict in awe as he walked by the crowd, the revolutionary giving a couple of them a simple greeting or pat on the shoulder as he passed. Until his gaze landed on Rowan once more, this time stood right in front of him. ❝ Are you ready for this afternoon? ❞ Benedict questioned earnestly, brows raising as he searched Rowan's features. He then raised a hand, grabbing Rowan's shoulder before he added, ❝ You know... I actually need you to do something for me. ❞
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I'M BURNING BRIDGES, I DESTROY THE MIRAGE
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》