#please enjoy some awkward syb maybe catches a bit of how joseph's most ardent followers feel

[direwombat]

What about Syb's thoughts on Lilith, please? aaand for the chaos, jonah's thoughts on Lilith too maybe? 👀 - fourlittleseedlings

ahhh thank you, hope i did lil justice

syb + lilith

Sybille supposes she really shouldn’t be surprised to find someone in “her spot.” The small grove with a pond is at the end of a trail, but it’s one so overgrown it’s hard to distinguish from the rest of the woods surrounding it. She’d stumbled upon it completely by accident while on the run from the Chosen hot on her ass. It had served her well then, and it’s continued to deliver since then. 

Every time the overwhelming pressure of carrying the entire Resistance on her shoulders makes her want to go on a civilian murder spree, she packs up her tent and hikes towards that quiet little pond. 

This time is no different. Except that when she emerges into that clearing, there’s someone already there.

A woman.

She seems familiar, but Sybille can’t quite tell with the large camera obscuring her face. A mess of wild hair, Whimsical dress, her shirt bearing an image of the eighteenth card of the Major Arcana and her skirt a deep navy blue with a matching lunar pattern. Something about it all reminds her of the New Age shops back in New Orleans, and she wouldn’t be surprised if this woman smelled of incense. 

The woman looks up at her, wide eyed and startled, her hand reaching towards the pistol resting beside where she’s seated. A long moment passes, the two staring at each other in surprise before recognition clicks for both of them. 

Lilith. The best friend of the one who’s taken to wrecking John’s shit with so much fervor that Sybille felt comfortable prioritizing the neutralization of the other two Heralds. 

“Hi,” Sybille says awkwardly, adjusting the strap of the tent bag on her shoulder. “Sorry, I ain’t mean to -- uh -- interrupt your photoshoot.”

Lilith blinks up at her, apparently not yet recovered from the shock of someone nearly getting the drop on her. Then, she’s scrambling to gather her things towards herself, attempting to make more room despite there being plenty. “Oh! No. No! It’s fine! You weren’t in the shot or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Oh. Good.” Sybille says. It wasn’t what she was worried about, but she’s glad regardless. “Well…uh…nice seein’ ya.” Adjusting her pack, she gives a small wave and turns to hike off and find another camping spot. She doesn’t want to intrude on another’s peace and solitude. 

“Wait!” Lilith calls. When Sybille halts and turns back towards her she continues, “Did you want to pitch your tent here? ‘Cause I don’t mind. Some company would be nice, actually.”

“Oh, uh, um…okay then…” she says, and she clumsily tiptoes her way around the pond and begins unpacking her things on the far side of the pond, directly across the water from Lilith. The other woman hesitates for a moment, watching her begin to pull the supplies out to assemble her tent, but ultimately returns to her photography. 

However she’s soon distracted by the sound of Sybille nailing in the stakes with her mallet. “Doing that doesn’t bother you?” Lilith asks. 

Sybille looks at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “Doin’ what?”

“Putting the stakes down.” When Sybille still looks confused, she elaborates. “You know, with your -- uh -- you know --” She lifts her own hand up and points at her palms.  “-- your hands?”

Sybille frowns and looks down at her own hands. Blood feathers on the wraps covering the tops of the hand holding the mallet. “Ah, shit,” she murmurs. If it’s bleeding on the back then the entry wound from that nail on her palm sure is as well. Well, that explains why her grip was beginning to slip. She sets the mallet down and pulls out her first aid kit to redress the wound. “I dunno,” she shrugs. “Don’t really feel it no more when it opens up.”

“No, I mean because of your hands?” Lilith mimes staking a nail through her own palm and Sybille finally understands. 

She looks thoughtful and shrugs. “Even if it did, what other choice do I got? Hav'ta be able to survive on my own. Ain’t nobody gonna hold my hand and help me.”

She takes her eyes off Lilith just long enough to make sure her new bandages are secure, and in that time Lilith circles the pond and is kneeling on the ground beside her. Before she can say anything, Lilith picks up the mallet, wiping the blood off with what appears to be one of her camera’s lens cleaners, and takes over staking the tent. 

“What’re you doin’?” Sybille asks dumbly. 

“You said no one was going to help you,” Lilith says. “You aren’t alone. I’m here too.” And then, in words that ring hauntingly familiar, Lilith says, “I am here to help you.”

There’s something soothing about the way she says it. Adamant and firm, but hushed and gentle and patient -- the same way a mother does when she’s reassuring her child. The same way her own mother did whenever she noticed Sybille losing her childhood to taking care of her family.

“I am here to help you. Rest. You have worked so hard taking care of others. Take care of yourself.” 

It hurts more than her open palm wounds not being able to help, but every time she tries to protest, Lilith keeps insisting she helps. And every time she manages to hypnotize Sybille into long moments of quiet. 

Lilith is a kind woman, Sybille thinks. I would gladly die to keep her safe.”

and here's jonah being a little creep lmao

It’s sinful to lust, and even more sinful to lust after the wife of one’s own brother. 

Yet lust Jonah does because how could he not? Not with her looking like that. 

He stands beside Faith on one side of the dais in his brother’s church. John and Jacob stand just across from them, and in between are Joseph and Lilith -- the Father and the newly ordained Mother -- dressed in their finest for their wedding ceremony. 

Lilith is…the picture of perfection. Pale, milky skin dotted with constellations of freckles and long, dark eyelashes. Her wild mane of curly, midnight black hair cascades underneath the veil Joseph had pushed back in order to kiss her, and her dress, white as snow and hugging her form where it matters, is decorated with the finest lace from the Project’s artisans.

Jonah clasps his hands behind his back, his nails biting into his palm. His jaw is tense and every now and then he catches John’s knowing smirk from the corner of his eye, taunting him. He’s going to have to confess later, once the ceremony is over, let those tally marks beneath his LUST tattoo gain another friend and allow John to officially mark him with a new sin. ENVY.

It’s not something he’s looking forward to, but such is the price for such a serious transgression against the will of God. No matter how much he desires, nothing will change the fact that Lilith, a woman who has haunted him like the succubus expelled from Eden, belongs to Joseph now. His wife. His property. 

Perhaps it won’t be so bad. There is ecstasy in pain. Euphoria in subjecting oneself to the divine punishment of God’s will. Euphoria he has no other way of obtaining. 

But for now he pretends to smile, a mask he’s perfected and worn since he started preaching himself in those tents in the Georgia backwaters. All the while, he stews in unrighteous ardor and  in righteous anger. Towards himself. Towards Lilith. All he can do is chant the same thing in his head over and over, a mantra -- a prayer, one he desperately hopes God hears and rids him of the Devil’s influence.

Thou shalt not covet thy brother’s wife thou shalt not covet thy brother’s wife thou shalt not covet thy brother’s wife thou shalt not…