𝑽𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑫𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔

“ IF GOD COULD SPEAK HE WOULD TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE DIRTY AND UNWORTHY AND ROTTING FROM THE INSIDE OUT. ” is that HENRY GOLDING? oh no, that’s AMOS JUGAH, born on the SIXTEENTH of JANUARY, 2011. i heard HE/HIM (CIS MAN) is a SERAPHIM & POWER in THE PURGED. apparently, they can be STAUNCH and VEHEMENT but also known to be MERCILESS and UNCOMPROMISING. spends most of their free time SACRIFICING SINNERS, probably smells like MUD & DEATH. is that a bite mark i see? no, must have been a trick of the light. 

Thirty minutes into the four hour car ride home and the only noise to come from Antonio was the occasional opening and closing of a switch blade. This was usually the point where he’d crack some sort of joke at his own expense about how this must’ve been the longest he’s gone without saying something, but he never made the expected quip. Instead, Antonio sank down further in his seat and continued to frown out the window in silence while trying to piece together just why having a mole in the group was bothering him this much. 

Naturally he wasn’t able to come up with much of an explanation that made sense to him. Flat out refusing to acknowledge that caring about the other Grizzlies and the stability of the group might’ve been responsible for his feelings definitely didn’t help. He only managed to give himself a massive headache from thinking in circles and trying to come up with a bunch of shallow explanations. Stupid fucking mole. And to think things would’ve gone much differently if some fucker didn’t betray them. He really hoped they got what was coming to them.

“You say that life isn’t wonderful at all,” Casey retorted back with a smirk, pondering over Robyn’s pessimistic comments of life, tragedy, and everything in between. “I mean, sure. World’s crazy nowadays and it’ll never be like it was,” he admitted with a nod. “But we’re blessed to live in such a safe place like Jackson, compared to other places that are more dangerous. I like being thankful for that at least.” He was an optimistic; it was who he was. Living life only thinking of when you’re going to kick the bucket is no way to live at all, that’s what he thought. Might as well see and count the blessings they had.

“Please, it’s always a fun filled night at the Tipsy Bison, Robyn. And okay. See, now you’re trying to do some psychological shit, trying to go all trickster. But no, it ain’t gonna work.” Casey huffed dramatically. “Might want to deliver that group’s drinks by the way,” he nodded over to the people huddled around a nearby table. “They’ve been waiting while you’ve been running your mouth.” He loved teasing Robyn. Loved teasing so many people.

Casey had a point, Jackson Town was safer than a lot of places in the surrounding area and Robyn did in fact have things to be thankful for here, but it was unlikely they’d admit that out loud. They lived their life mostly waiting for the other shoe to drop — it was easier that way, not letting their hopes get too high. Still, they decided not to press how miserable life could be for the time being. “Fine, fine, fine, I’m thankful I’m too young to know what life was like before things got so fucked up. There’s my one upbeat comment for the night.”

Lucas’ mind was reeling. He immediately found his brain stumbling through thought after thought, trying to see the light at the end of this, trying to figure it out. Maybe if he begged enough, the Hunters would let him go with them, too. Or they could resist. They were outnumbered, but maybe they could still fight them off. Maybe if they fired arrows fast enough– or maybe Isaiah could leave with them, but they’d gather a bigger patrol from Jackson tomorrow and rescue him. Maybe, maybe–

His thoughts quieted abruptly when Isaiah pressed their foreheads together. Here, where it was just the two of them, the rest of the world fell quiet. There was only sadness, squeezing his heart in its fist until it shattered. “You can’t,” he pleaded, his voice quiet but filled with a certain despair that he’d never quite heard from himself. His hands reached over to hold Isaiah’s face, careful, steady despite their trembling. He refused to believe it, he refused to let this be the last time he held his husband; it couldn’t, it wouldn’t. “Darling, no, I’d rather something fucking happen to me than letting you go with them.” He meant that, but he knew this was useless to say. If roles were reversed, he’d also be doing all he could to keep Isaiah safe, even if it meant being apart. Even if he didn’t want to understand it, he did, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “I can’t. Isaiah, I can’t just let you go. Please. I don’t care that they need a doctor, I need you.”

It killed Isaiah to hear Luke sound so distraught and to be more or less powerless to do anything to ease his husband’s pain. It took every bit of strength he had to not say screw it and refuse to go with the Hunters at Luke’s pleas. There was no way that wouldn’t end horribly now though. The chances of the both of them making it out fine before Isaiah opted for peaceful negations probably weren’t too high to begin with, and now that it was obvious to the Hunters that Luke meant a great deal to him, there was no way his husband walked away from this if Isaiah went back on their agreement.

( amos jugah | task 01. ) — a playlist  tracklist below the cut !