sixthiterationlogs | I accused him there with his tortured lamb

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I accused him there with his tortured lamb

WHO: Bobo Del Rey
WHERE: Butcher Shop, South village
WHEN: Throughout November
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Talk of animal death and slaughter

There was a time when most of Bobo's life wasn't taken up with drinking and herding revenant cats and general being a fairly psychotic bastard. It's a time over a century in the past, and until coming to this place, he's been glad to leave it in the past, as buried as the man that had caused the curse that had changed everything for Bobo. This place though, it's like a damn time capsule in many ways, and it is finding a way to get under his skin and stir up memories of a man long dead though his body continues on.

He had once been a man who helped, whose entire life was devoted to another, to doing what he could for his town and for a hundred plus years he has lamented that being that man had caused him not only to die - that he was prepared for - but to be cursed and damned for it. People paid for that, yet now in this place, that all feels like someone distant, just as Robert Svane has felt to Bobo for so long.

Here in this place, everything has changed and much as he might deny it, Bobo is changing with it. Including needing to do more than cause hate and discontent. A talk with Margaery at the inn led him to spending a few days hunting and trekking through the areas to the north, away from others for the most part. Trying to clear his mind, to remember who he is, not was. Except even that didn't work. That man who died apparently wasn't nearly as gone and forgotten as Bobo likes to believe. In the end he ended up at the butcher shop with his coat hung on a nail, water brought up from the river and set to work scrubbing the place down.

Taking more time than he had so far with the house since poisoning the village is not acceptable. Working hard, harder than he has in a long while, using the soap left there on the counter and rags he made from those damn walking blanket things. It takes several days, leaving the doors and windows open to air the place out as he goes. Going so far that the first night he just curls up with his coat, not wanting to make the hike back to the North village.

By the end of the first week, the place is clean enough you could eat off the floor. Or at the very least eat what is killed and slaughtered there and likely not die. Maybe killing things isn't the best therapy for the aggression he still feels, the nature of the beast as it were, but he figures it isn't hurting people so, for now, it will work. Both for his own kills and, if others bring them in, butchering items for others in the village as well.

Eventually he can be found there most of the daylight hours slaughtering those creature he kills. Using that space to butcher them, and to cure and tan the hides. Some of the meat and fish he takes over to the Inn. Some of it he starts processing with red salt, hoping it will do the same as the salt curing he'd done before. Some he puts out on racks to dry, thinking he can turn it into pemmican for the winter.

Some days he can be found scrounging wood, looking to build a smoking shed out back to use on the salted meat when it's ready, knowing he's starting too late in the season to hold them all through the winter, but he doesn't care. He cares that some of the oppressive weight of hatred and loathing is lifted from his shoulders while he works, and for now that is enough.

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Bobo doesn't flinch away, though that tension remains as Bull reaches out to him. The scars are a tangle of scars, far more faded than they should be for when they happened. Far less damage than a grenade from that close should have done.

"It was a curse set by two witches and a demon," he admits, letting himself be drawn closer as his hand runs over Bull's chest. "Still a lot see us as a form of demons, though we're called revenants."

Which most have never cared to see how different those things are. Returned from hell, most of them criminals, they're demons.

"You don't sound or act anything like the demons from my world, so I think I will call you revenant." He smiles softly and then leans to kiss Bobo's forehead. "You know, I have known some spirits too, worked with some. They freaked me out in the beginning but I got over it and what they could do is impressive." He pauses and looks down at Bobo. "What I am saying is that you don't have to be worried that I am going to hate you."

It's a tender gesture, one that Bobo is not at all accustomed to. Even in the times before he returned from Hell. Even from Willa herself. It's different, but not unwelcome.

"Well, everything I could do is gone here, but I know I'm not human. Not like I was before," he admits, not having talked about this much with many in this place. "I can feel it here," he says, bringing a hand between them and touching over his heart.

"Do you miss it?" Bull looks at him, reaching down to trace a hand over Bobo's hand. "I... I broke once. I was a danger to those around me. So I got fixed. But even so, the cracks are still there. Like... There are places where they taken broken pottery and glues it back together with precious metals. It's like that. We're broken but we still work. "

He pauses, considering that. Not just the touch but the words as well. So much of this place sets him on that edge of confusion and uncertainty. So many decades of being treated a certain way, of living as an outcast, as the violent leader because without his violence, they'll be so much worse.

"I feel hollow," he admits, touching a hand to his solar plexus. "Whatever it is that happened to us in Hell, I never realized I could feel it. Not until this place when I couldn't feel it again. I spent a long time being a mouse, and longer the predator. Now?"

He shrugs, making a face. "Now I don't know. Like you said, I feel broken, but I'm not sure which way I'm supposed to go back together."

He doesn't talk about this. Not with many. Hardly with anyone. He's never sure why with Bull, but he feels comfortable with him, as if he doesn't have to hide who he has been at any point. There's no reason to.

Bull nods and reaches out to place a finger on the other's chest, just holding him there. Not pulling back or anything, just a quiet easy touch.

He shakes his head slightly. "I don't know either, Bobo. But I am willing to stick around and try to help you find it out."

He tenses slightly, only because it feels almost acute to the things he is feeling in his chest. That keening he isn't sure what to do with.

But he smiles. Tight, barely there, but he does.

"That's more than I would ask for," he admits, catching Bull's hand and lifting it to kiss his knuckles. "You're a good man, Bull."

Bull chuckles. "Or you're just good enough of a lay to make it work it to stick around." He grins. Though it is really is more of the former. Bobo's one of Bull's people now and good luck trying to scare the big Qunari off.

He sighs contently and then moves to pull Bobo close again. He likes the comfort of the other. And he'd like Bobo to relax some more too

"I would say I'm an amazing fuck," he says, smirking and more than amused though by their conversation. "But I guess that's for you to decide," he points out, glad to let the emotions go for teasing and flirting.

Letting himself easily curl in easily against the broad lines of Bull's form, definitely happier for that than he is for thinking about his losses.

"I'd say so too." Bull reaches down to stroke Bobo's back, gently massaging through the clothes. "You still interested in me tying you up. Or for that matter tying me up?" Yeah he trusts you that much Bobo. And that is the best way he can think of to show it.

Arching like a cat, eyes hooded and smiling contentedly at that touch. "Definitely interested," he says, sliding his hands along the broad lines of Bull's chest. "It's a bit surprising someone would trust me to do that." Which is why he likes the idea of doing just that.

"Well,I don't see a reason not to trust you." Bull smiles warmly and purrs a little under the touch. "You want to try the one where you make a harness. Just nice to hold on to."

Tracing over the broad lines of Bull's chest, fingers trailing along his sides as Bobo's smile widens. Not only at the sensuousness of the motions, but those words as well. "That sounds perfect. Shall we?"

Bull grins and glances around until he spots some rope. He reaches for it, and then glances back at Bobo. "You remember how to do this?"

He smiles and gives a single nod. "I believe I do, and I take direction well enough when I want to."

He won't say always, but with Bull and this, he's willing to do his best.

Bull grins at that and offers him the ropes. "Let's find a bed room." He heads towards where the bedrooms would be in his place. Once he finds one he steps inside. "Here?"

There is a kind of electric charge in following Bull, that rope in his hand. Bobo's gaze is on Bull, not the room, as he nods. "Definitely works," he says, smirking as he follows him inside.

Bull grins when he turns and sees the look on Bobo's face. Then he moves to pull his clothes off, quickly and efficiently, before he kneels before Bobo. "Let me see what you remember."

Maybe it shouldn't be so intoxicating. Maybe there shouldn't be something in him that finds pure delight in watching Bull strip down, kneeling before him, encouraging this from him. And yet there is.

And yet behind the sensuality of it, there's something so much more. Bobo is not used to others putting trust in him, and that Bull does is a bit stunning.

Which is why he takes his time, ensuring that he's not risking hurting Bull, and showing he remembers what he's been shown.

Bull grins at him, leaning into any touch and moves easily with being handled. Once the ropes wrap around him he gives out a small sound of pleasure, just a happy sigh.

"You can tighten that a bit more if you like." He offers a bit of advice. "I don't mind feeling the ropes dig in." In fact, that is one of the things he likes about this.

He takes his time, as much to get it right as enjoying touching and caressing over the beautiful lines of Bull's form. That sound though goes straight through him.

Leaning down, his lips brushing against the curve of one shoulder. "As you wish," he murmurs, working the ropes down along his body to pull them tight and keep the rope taut.

The tightening of the rope draws another deep sound from him, and something shifts a little. He relaxes some, closing his eyes about half way and leans into the touch. "Thank you." He moves his hand behind him. Folding them in a way that makes his back straighten. But his head is lowered just enough to give the image of perfect submission.

Bobo's hands run along Bull's back and shoulders, tracing the skin between the ropes, above them, fingers trailing along one bicep as his arms move. For a moment stepping back, not touching him in that moment just to look him over like that.

"Dear God," he murmurs, shaking his head. "Didn't expect this from you. Big. Strong. Flirtatious. Get you like this and you look beautiful," he says, stepping closer once more, stroking his fingers over his cheek and then up along the base of one of the horns. "Don't get this enough, do you?"

Bull smiles slightly when he is called beautiful. It is not a word often used to describe him. When Bobo's fingers are on his cheek he glances up at him, licking his lips.

"No. Not a lot of people who I trust to see me like this or to tie me up." Bobo's on a short list of people. Bull leans into the touch some.
"It's been a couple of years now."

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