“No, Miss Vill. We shoot to kill survivors. The wild can have them.” - Joe-mum
He awoke, surprised and renewed. He just couldn't have; it would be impossible for him, over any other, to have lived through that disaster... One can imagine how an experience like that could lead someone on a spiritual path to find answers and whom it might be all to thank. You might not expect though for the shaman to come armed as well.
There is something very conflicting about Joemum. It's in the way he spends hours in meditation; seeking Him, It, whatever it is... How he seems so open-minded and easy going, like a space-age hippie drifting through life... Before lying down to take aim at a defenseless creature and pulling the trigger of his over modified (read: jerry-rigged) sniper rifle without a blink. The current theory drifting around Township is that Joemum may have been a professional survivalist in another life; that perhaps he belonged to a mercenary group and taught people how to be bad people, very bad people, and that now he might be trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his newly discovered faith.
But for now, at least, Joemum leads the hunting parties passed the town walls. He, passed the gates, speaks for and acts as Jaycub's eyes and ears. With a disturbingly thorough background in survival / outdoorsmanship, tracking and perfected snipe-shooting --- no one seems to be curious about the gender bending. It's evident Joe is very comfortable with himself and seems to react to 'he' or 'she' equally, so no one asks.
Other submissions of Joemum and his friends;
Upon the evening... Prologue
Upon the evening a king turned older, weaker
"Tell it again!" Quince insisted, snuggled up against a pile of pillows, hugging an extra-plush one with both sets of arms. In the background was the distorted, yet identifiable hint of a live musical band somewhere some rooms away from the sanctuary of the boy prince's quarters.
The veiled human by his bed sighed; "Child, It's a tale too long." Pushing back the garment that hid his face, the effeminate man held his own forehead as if it were about to separate from the rest of his face.
"But it's father's birthday! I wanna hear the story again 'bout how everything was built!"
©2012 Amy E. Erwin, please contact me if you wish to use this image. Please do not claim it as your own. Please don't rip it off.