Tales of a Southern Gentleman: The Same Coin

Two sides of the same coin. From which Wrath looms, Patience prevails. The gift of patience is learned... nurtured; through each tough day, each hit in a fight, and every second spent taking abuse from people who are supposed to love you. There’s a balance between virtue and sin, and Vernon stands firmly on the line of truth and pain. 

The gentle giant that Vern now is did not come without fault or loss. His entire life was spent soaked in the red baths of uncontrollable wrath. With the look of the devil in his eyes and actions to match he was not a man you wanted to cross. Some still fear his name, a vengeful man who sought no more than to inflict just as much pain on the world as the world did him. The was a stint in his life where his hands were stained with blood constantly, whether it be his or someone else's. An agent of death and the devil's right-hand man, when he came he brought hell with him each time. A feared outlaw with seemingly no morals he was a force to be reckoned with. That is what wrath does to a person. It consumes them and turns their soul black and red. How one comes back from that is a miracle. Vern is a tainted man, but even tainted men have been cleansed. Either by their own doing or someone else's. 

Vernon learned patience through fear. Fear of what he would become if he continued as he did. He'd come to find a stream during a job, a bounty hunting job, and was planning to wash the dust off his hands. While he kneeled to wash up he got a good look at himself. Blood soaked his hair and clothes, his face with streaks of the dark red substance from the wind whipping against his face. Looking down to his hand they were no different... painted red and caked with grime. He couldn't recognize himself anymore. A reflection of a madman who'd been consumed by the very thing he thought he was running from. A reflection of the devil stared back, not one of Vernon. From that day forward things changed, slowly at first. Wrath is difficult to reign in once it's allowed to run free for so long. Not long after, patience began to set in. During jobs he found himself listening to both sides, allowing his heart to take part in the conversation now. He was no longer quick to anger... no more 'shoot first, ask questions later'. He stood now as a pillar of righteousness among the dishonor of thieves and murderers. 

A patient man who now took blows without crippling anger, without seeing a curtain of red drop over his vision before letting wrath consume his soul alive once again. Despite the patience he now holds within him, the devil can still be seen lingering within his eyes. The wrath of a rugged man never truly leaves... because what would patience be without wrath? And wrath without patience?