prompt. he or them ? their or his slaughterhouse ? it makes for a drawn out battle-wound, stretched and stitched with cobwebs. these thoughts catty corner this whirlwind thoughts as he stood at the alter of a weathered pew. a meeting spot. a holy house.
these lines have been blurred as the scent of incense and confrontation hung heavy, wrapped like a shroud, when this aged door creaked and groaned. ‘ .. rick. why, i just knew rick grimes couldn't get cold feet. ’ not this wolf. it's almost fond. almost. i take it you know why i'm here. @unabsorbs ‘ of course i do. ’ a folding chair is flipped, and he sits backwards on it's dusty creak. gestures at the pew. ‘ please. sit. ’ it's quintessential in class, the look between rick and john. his eyes study that which hails as a picturesque statue, sturdy in pages of history and leadership 'cross his chest in the way that john's prickled skin is painted in his.. transgressions. [ those he wears as shame ? reminders ? pride. why, of course not pride, that would become one of those transgressions. ] perhaps he's taking photos. perhaps he's capturing evidence. or perhaps, that in the root of it all, the second member of this party of two found a vile envy thick in his throat and it became increasingly difficult to digest. careful, john, those transgressions. and yet he smiles. it doesn't reach his eyes, unfurled and yet dazzled like that of the sun, charm and honey and mingled with the acrid scent. ‘ you're here to talk. negotiate, rather. to be honest with you, my friend, you and your people are a blight on this foundation we've built. built for you. however, the father placed me as your report. your friend. he's blessed me this tedious, diligent task to guide you on your journey to salvation. .. so, go on. negotiate. ’