and i saw a black horse...
I do not own Far Cry 5 or any Ubisoft rights. This is purely a work of fan-fiction, And is not lore to the game.
Far Cry 5 is based off a fictional world. The setting is real, but any resemblance to any character to real l...
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She takes quick heavy breaths as she sits in the cell, her arms wrapped around her knees, eye sockets buried in the hard pallets of her kneecaps. No matter what she couldn't get his cocky words out of her head. She presses her hands tightly against her skull, tears soaking her jeans. Her head kept echoing with Jacobs words, how she was a tool and nothing more. How only you could make the world seem bright.
She swallowed her spit, leaning her head back against the wall. Before she could even comprehend what she was doing, she started singing.
"Hoold... Hold on. Hold on to me. Cause I'm a little unsteady... a little unsteady..." her broken voice echoed across the bunker as she sang, the cultists confused by the daring prisoner to disturb the peace.
"Mama, come here. Approach. Appear. Daddy, I'm alone. Cause this house don't feel like home." She closes her eyes, focusing on remembering all of the lyrics.
"But if you love me, don't let go ahaaah. Woah, If you love me, don't let go." A Peggie pauses by the cell she resides in, peering in as her as she sang out the chords. He slams his rifle against the steel, making her jump and scramble away from the noise.
"You need to be quiet. We're busy, unlike you, sinner." She curls up, her eyes glaring daggers into him.
"Make me, Peggie." He chuckles, pressing his hand to the release by the door. A tattooed arm grabs his shoulder, the Peggie freezing up quickly. John stepped into her view, making her pride swell.
"Isn't it my favorite psycho." He raises an eyebrow.
"Isn't it my favorite sinner." He chuckles, a fluttering feeling erupting in her stomach for a moment. He leans in near the cultist, the man's face and body relaxing after a moment. The Peggie stepped away, leaving her and the Inquisitor alone. She leans against the furthest wall, crossing her arms.
"Any reason the Baptist came to see me in such short note? Don't tell me, Jacob gave you his box." She chuckles, raises an eyebrow.
"Oh, this?" He pulls out the box Jacob had used many times on her, spinning it in his hands. She quickly approaches the bars, reaching to grab her salvation. He was ready, because he pulled the box away and grabbed her by the throat, pinning her by the bars.
"You know, Joseph wants me to send you to Faith in the east. But, I haven't seen a reason for you to become an Angel just yet. After all, Jacob has a point." She whimpers airily as the air escapes from her lungs, her hand covering his and scratching while her other hand reaches for his chest, digging her nails into his chest.
"John." His face softens, his hand releasing her neck as she collapses on the ground, her breathing ragged and nails filled with scratched skin. Her throat felt sore from his grip, but it felt right. His hand on her neck, her nails scratching away skin to make his skin raw, the pure danger of it. She bowed her head. She could hear the Father's footsteps approach.
