The Masters Call

                Well my Daddy, Lord, he rides on a long holy train

                              The first winds of winter, I'll see him again

                                          And it's fare well to this yellow-headed misery I've known

                                                     Snake Mountain's calling, calling me home

                                 Well the Snake Mountain blues got me down low

                                                  And I could die in the morning, ain't no one would know

Indie Multiverse OC 

~

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” she murmurs against his mouth before her peak overtakes her, leaves her shuddering around him with little aftershocks as he finishes inside her. Ear is pressed over racing heart as she rests against him, taking a moment to catch her breath before she smacks his shoulder halfheartedly. “Watch your fucking mouth next time.” But there’s little heat to the reprimand. She’s been called a lot worse by people who loved her a lot less than Roadkill did. Still, couldn’t go setting a precedent for it.

Toes curl against his calf as she stretches like a languid cat, having gotten everything she wanted out of the night. “Feel better, baby?“ Soothing his anger was the easy part, now she just had to make sure he followed through with their plan and didn’t get too carried away as it would be far to tempting to turn that anger on anyone else who had crossed him in the past few weeks. No, they needed to send a message, not shoot themselves in the foot. Though perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to bring in some fresh blood while he was at it.

“They all have to see you do it,” she advises, tracing idle patterns over his chest with her index finger, tone as casual as talking about the weather rather than the potential maiming of a man. “They have to look you in the eye and understand what happens to men who cross you. And then you can leave him there to rot, for all I care.”

                            -“You know I got a soft spot for you gettin’ violent, Doll.”

  The anger started culminating inside him as he concocted plans of all the ways to inflict pain. But he couldn’t rile himself up too much at the thought, exhaustion had begun to set in. “I’ll text the guys to meet me at the clubhouse tomorrow.” Letting out a sigh, he glanced to his left at his lover. Her green eyes enraptured him momentarily before he reached over to the tv tray being used as a stand in side table to grab his phone.

       TXT [The Guys]: i need u all to come to the clubhouse tomorrow        TXT [ The Guys]: important meeting

He rested his phone on his bare stomach. He had little time to think about possible regrets, he knew what needed to be done. Swift justice to those who had wronged him, the same story repeated throughout his life. He wasn’t the type for forgiveness, he clung to the idea of revenge. “You want a beer?” Off topic though it was the only thing that would calm his nerves. Letting his phone fall on the bed as he rose to head to the kitchen. 

MAGNOLIA  CASTILLO  SENTENCE  STARTERS | Accepting

   The concept wasn’t foreign to him.  His whole life he embraced the sin that made him who he was, only now was he attempting to repent. But vices were powerful, and his will was weak when it came to temptation. “If I could stop, I would.” He paused, shifting his gaze towards the fire. “But God ain’t a big fan of me. Never has been.”

He had always felt cursed from the moment he was born. What he had was ripped away from him to no one's fault but his own. Never appreciating what he had until it was gone. Left to fend for himself in a cruel wasteland with only violence and booze to guide him. 

MAGNOLIA  CASTILLO  SENTENCE  STARTERS | Accepting

“You’ll live.” Words lacking the usual charm his snake tongue could produce. As strong as the love he felt for her was, he failed to produce much sympathy for more ‘girly’ affairs. “It ain’t like I don’t know how to get blood outta clothes.” At this point in his life he had grown too desensitized to bloodied clothing. It sure as hell wouldn’t stop him from making a pit stop at the liquor store despite his shocking state. Most town residents wouldn’t do anything about it anyways. 

Vivid memories of his home town washed over him. He regulalry visited Goodsprings every handful of months when he had the chance, being busy with both Legion affairs and a some odd jobs on the side he hadn’t had much free time to get lost in the Mojave. Though now he had caps to spare, plenty of them. 

After his routine stop to visit chet for gun oil and ammunition should it be the rare occassion he carried anything of .50 cal in stock he found a not so unfamiliar face duck her head into the general store as he prepared to leave. Ramona. It had been some time since their last encounter when they grabbed drinks together though he could always recognize her. It was her eyes, the dark makeup contrasting the pale blue iris making it stand out as almost silver in color. 

“Well shit! If I knew I’d be runnin’ into you doll I would have cleaned up a little.”