sixthiterationlogs | At first disguised by hollow warmth

WHO: Bobo Del Rey
WHERE: North Village
WHEN: Middle of January
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Will update as needed

Words echo in Bobo's head. Things that Willa said to him, that Vasquez has said, Bull, Wynonna, voices he hasn't heard in over a century. It's easy to ignore those words in your head when you're busy keeping nearly a hundred revenants from getting out of control and killing everyone in the Ghost River Triangle. It's another trying to quiet them when you're in a place where you're seen as a peer and a friend and not merely some hellspawn to be killed to break a curse.

Which only makes it that much harder.

Having spent so much time in the south village, Bobo decided to give a week to getting things ready where he lives in hopes that if winter descends, they'll all make it.

So he spends more time working on converting the police station into a barn for the kirin, chickens and whatever else the cowboys decide to bring home. Clearing out much of the walls that aren't load bearing, and even tearing up the floor in parts of it, to use making a pen to one end for the chick where they can be held and have ground to scratch at.

He takes time seeing that the forge is in working order, hoping to find and mine enough to fashion horse shoes for the kirin. They were keeping their hooves trimmed back, but shoes would make things better for them, to see to them a they grow and may one day become mounts for them.

Most afternoons he can be found on the front porch of their house by the forge, his lap covered in a piece of hide from something he first killed and cured, and working to use one rock to shear bits from another rock. The ledge of the porch rail is lined with his experiments, dangerously sharp arrowheads and larger "blades" that didn't go quite right but show progress in knapping the stone just right into a blade. His hands too show the work, cuts in various degrees of healing marking his knuckles and palms.

It's sitting on that porch that he's approached, in a way, one day by a creature he well knows. A moose that meanders through the "front yard", pausing to sniff at this or that as is makes its way through the village. It's a familiar enough sight to Purgatory, especially back when Robert Svane made a homestead so far North, that Bobo finds himself nearly giggling, then laughing until he has to set aside the things he's working on, digging the heels of his hands against his eyes and staunching tears that he would swear had everything to do with the laughter and nothing else.

All around the house he's chosen show signs of the things he's working on, from boards with pelts stretched over them, to sinew drawn tight between sticks and drying, and several long staff looking saplings in various degrees of drying that he plans to eventually split for bows. So much of it is trial and error, being aware of the basics of how to assemble and make all of it, but also having been a being a fucking mouse in velvet and glasses. The practical experience isn't there, even if the knowledge is, and Bobo is playing off all of it to try and ensure that he and the roommates, those he also considers his people, can make it in this place and thrive.

All the while trying to ignore the voices in his head, the things that others have said to him, and that voice that he barely recognizes from a man that gave up his life for a town that condemned him for a eternity, not yet realizing how soon that forever existence might end.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bobo remembers Danny, and he knows their one meeting hadn't entirely gone right. He stares at the box for a while, not even sure what to do with the things in the box. Eventually he works on it though, trying to make it work since he's been wanting to learn to sew, but the piece in the end mostly resembles a dragon.

Okay, it doesn't resemble a dragon at all.

Good thing for Danny that when he finds a box at the dojo wrapped in dragon wrap with a note atop that says TO DANNY FROM BOBO, it contains a rather cute dragon so much better than what Bobo has managed.

"You made this?" Excuse Danny if he sounds skeptical. He had seen his own gift turn into something completely different once it was opened and he imagined that something similar happened here.

"It's cute. Thanks."

He didn't really know what to do with Bobo or how to handle him. The guy was weird and now he was getting a gift from him, a gift that had been handed out by their captors but still... Danny was getting mixed messages.

It was a really really cute dragon.

Bobo blinks, staring at the dragon for a long time. He knows what he made, and he knows what he put in that box. They don't add up, but he's not going to argue or complain.

"I made you a dragon," he says, knowing that something has happened here, but will to go with it. "Found it funny I got this box for you give the last time we talked." Which is almost nearly an apology. At least in his eyes.

"I think they're trying to make us all be social and such. Especially around the holidays, I guess."

Danny held up the dragon and then wiggled it towards Bobo as if it was talking to him. It was a silly thing to do but Danny found himself smiling.

"Yeah. This is kind of weird. I have a thing for dragons though so it suits me." He'd fought a dragon and had Shao-Loa's mark tattooed on his chest. Danny will always have a deep affection for dragons.

"But still. Thanks." He's awkward.

What else do you say at a time like this?

Bobo smirks, biting back a snicker at that playfulness. It is definitely nothing he expected from Danny.

"It's kind of my first attempt at sewing, so I'm glad you like it," he says, nodding. "And you're welcome. Seriously. Figured if they gave it to me for a reason." He's still not sure what the reason is, but hey, it worked out.

"You doing okay? Heard something about one of those martial art places."

At first disguised by hollow warmth

For Danny Rand

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