And what I give out will make up what I'll receive

[fooloftheking]

WHO: Bobo Del Rey
WHERE: Fountain Park, North Village
WHEN: Sept 4th and beyond
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: language warning, vomiting, will update further as needed

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Fountain Park - Arrival

Spending one hundred and fifty years waiting on the one love of your life is a long time to pin all your hopes and possibilities on a girl born to your enemy. A longer time to plan and plot all the while losing and gaining the one thing you never thought you’d have. And yet the pain of the grenade that put him down moments was nothing compared to hearing Willa’s words, that betrayal of her stepping through the gates and going beyond without him.

The snow should have been cold, but he didn’t feel it, didn’t feel anything really. For a brief moment there is thought that this is how it is before you’re born, when you’re still weightless and floating in moments before life.

And then water was filling his lungs and Bobo chokes, gagging underwater as conscious thought of where the living hell he is this turns into a desperate need to get air and not water into his body. Not registering that his coat should have weighed him down, flailing as he is somehow pushed upwards. Managing is his panic to break the surface, gasping a thick, wet breath as he hooks an arm over the edge and hauls himself up and out of the water.

Coughing up water as he flops down in the grass, body heaving as his system attempts to clear his lungs. The cough becomes too much and he chokes, vomiting up water and bile and, well, probably whiskey.

Slowly raising his head, eyes red rimmed and his beard bearing marks of charring on one side, his eyes narrow as he becomes aware of one thing in particular.

“Where the hell is my coat?”

North Village - Around

Over the next couple of days a figure may be seen hitting a few places along the north village. Maybe not entirely noticeable, despite the red scrubs that he’s still not sure what to think of, but the weather is not entirely cool enough for the peacoat he’s wearing over them. Bobo will be damned if he takes if off though. They want to pull this Black Badge facility bullshit and release him in some Twilight Zone, Stephen King-esque trap of a town, he’s going to do the best he can to make things right. For himself, at least.

Scrounging about, trying to figure out what it is they want from him because the lack of agents, pain, and hellishly styled torments in the name of science seem to be greatly lacking. Not that he’s complaining, except when he gets the chance to bitch about the lack of alcohol, food, and maybe a radio would be nice.

He hits up the Inn numerous times throughout those days, and it may be scrounging for supplies. Hell, what else good does it do when there’s no alcohol to speak of, and trust him, he’s looked. He does snag a chef’s knife from the kitchen, because being unarmed is the most unnerving sensation he can imagine. Or so he thinks until he realizes there’s more wrong here than just some missing clothes.

North Village - House 111

A few times resurrected in Purgatory and Bobo is actually used to settling in where it suits him. Enough of the houses that way seem empty and he “picks” one mostly because he likes the color and it has fewer houses around it than some of the others. Neighbors may be wanted by someone but really, he’s saving others from himself.

It’s behind that house, by the edge of the trees, that he can be found a few days after he tried to drown painfully in the fountain. Several items from his kitchen, or at least a kitchen, are laid out on a sheet he brought down from the extra bedroom. Standing there in red scrubs and a black coat, Bobo seems to be mostly kind of pointing at the items that include a vegetable peeler, a knife, a spoon, and several other metal objects.

He becomes more frustrated the longer he tries, face flushed and hand shaking as he fights against the rising panic he’s feeling.