sixthiterationlogs | There were so many times I thought I have died

WHO: Bobo Del Rey
WHERE: Both North and South Village
WHEN: First few weeks of February after returning
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Will update if needed

There are so many parts that I have hidden and that I yet lost - Either village, First wk of Feb

Bobo Del Rey is dead. Long live the King.

Much as Bobo rallied himself with the others, almost glad to have found himself with Eddie, Venom and Karen in that hell that passed for a temple - and he's sure there's something in that about religion and belief and faith and facing the truth but fuck all that noise - but just because they're the ones he was with, and therefor cared enough to help, he's caught up in so much more.

Like the fact that he did care about others. It's been so many decades since he's cared, and a lot of torture both given and received, and now he's having to face the truth. He's dead. Except instead of being sucked into Hell for more torture, to be further tormented until the heir died once more as they always did, he is here. There is no return. There is no torture. There's just this, and he's not sure what that means. Not for himself, or the confusion that has been haunting him since this place.

But once they're assured everyone has made it back, and that things are back to normal, Bobo is doing his best to get back to a normal life. When in the southern most village, he works on the butcher shop, trying to pull everything together. Cleaning up the entire shop from top to bottom, turning all of the hides, and working to bottle the ink he'd made from tallow soot, leaving the little bottles on the counter near the soap that Watney made.

When back to the north, he can be found often working on the former police station turned barn where they now houses a myriad of animals, including the new baby groffle that somehow the cowboys had managed to bring back with them after the video. They weren't doing much better than he was, but none of them were talking about it. Instead they kept working.

So he works on splitting logs, and preparing the land to add a pasture to turn them out into until the weather turns and they can take them out further from the village.

There are so many colors that I still try to hide while I paint - Off Color

If Bobo is conflicted over who he is and the man he will be, having a moment of his device going a bit wonky is not going to fix that.

He hasn't bothered himself too much with what the device color means, or about these powers that some speak of possessing. His isn't what he knows as being a revenant, and he's not sure what to think of being given something else, but he knows one thing.

In his mind that change in colors is a possible sign of a weakness that he isn't willing to admit to others. Especially after he finds himself standing in the middle of the butcher shop feeling what he can only describe as sad over the state of the animals in various degrees of death and dismemberment around him.

Ripping up some rag pieces he's kept around into thin strips, he wraps them around is wrists, over the palm of his hand, using them to hide the device, before going about his business. Business that is less the business he's chosen for himself and more spending time seeking out others in the inn. Approaching others if they don't seek him out, quieter and less boisterous than he usually is.

It would seem if the images of his death aren't putting him in mind of his past, and what he might become or refuse to acknowledge, well then the powers that be aren't willing to give him a choice.

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Karen has to laugh at that, a soft chuff of sound as her chin drops. Just the absurdity of it all, of them. This place.

She doesn't answer how she's been. He knows well enough.

Wordlessly, she holds up the rabbit instead. "I could have taken it straight to the inn, but then I wouldn't have had a conveniently morbid excuse to check on you." 'Convenient' being the operative word there, given how sufficiently morbid their vacation had turned out to be.

"Have you talked to Eddie recently?"

It seems so easy to try and just be normal. Normal to a time that doesn't exist. Normal to people they won't ever be again. Normal because to act otherwise is like stepping into new space, and no one wants to make the first move.

"I'm glad you did," he says, pausing before adding. "Find a convenient reason to come see me, that is," he adds, figuring she has taken that first step, he could meet her half way.

Pausing though at that question, giving a small shake of his head. "I hadn't ever much talked to Eddie before..." He waves his hand towards the vague general direction of the shrine. "I know Venom though. I just hadn't realized..."

Stopping then, not even sure how to put it. "Seen enough strange in my life, you think there'd stop being things that surprise me, but they keep happening." Giving her a look before gesturing for her to come further into, heading into the back of the shop.

"How are you though?"

It's a small thing, that admission to actually wanting her around, but it feels profound. She's spent too much of her life since Kevin died being pushed away by people she cares about, and whether the reason is selfish or noble, it never fails to feel like shit.

"You know," she answers obliquely of how she is, a diffident lift of one shoulder before she steps over to the counter and drops off the rabbit. "As well as could be expected." She hedges a moment and then blows out a sigh as she cants a hip against the front of the showcase. "When I got back, I had gotten a box. There was a picture of my family inside, from home. So. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel about any of it." Is this some sort of lesson? Cherish what you have while you have it? Because if so, the delivery method could stand some improvement.

"I didn't know Eddie before, either— Or Venom," she corrects, still getting used to the dynamics of that particular relationship despite their mountain jaunt. "Manhattan got half-leveled by an alien invasion while I was living there, though, if that's strange enough for you. It was led by a guy who lives here now, I bet he's super happy to be stuck with the rest of us."

Having received a box himself recently, Bobo is a bit confused to hear what it is that Karen received. Facing her with a frown, his head cocking to one side as he gestures with his words, a vague waving of his hand. "Why in the name of all that is holy would they send you that?"

He doesn't feel he needs to ask the rest. Send her that now. Send her that after showing her a vision of her brother's death that they thought fit to share with others.

"Have you ever..." He pauses, considering this, of what to ask her, how to word this. "Have you ever had a moment to say goodbye? To your brother? I mean, I don't know much about all of this. Most of my family is long gone, and I've only ever wanted to mourn one person."

Not that he has, and he hasn't let himself think about it. Even now with what he's seen of himself.

Though he's a bit stunned to learn of her world, of what they had been through. "And now this bastard is here now? And you've all let him live?" Even without the emotions he feels for Karen, he's kind of in a mood to finish another, and this could be kindness for Karen and nothing more. "Wait, the rest of you? How many are here from your world?"

For a long moment, Karen doesn't reply, considering the honest answer to Bobo's question about Kevin. How strange that such acute insight would come from him, of all people, although she's got to acknowledge that she's supposed to be better about not judging books by their covers by now.

"It's funny," she slowly begins, an idle hand lifting to scratch at her hairline. "I never even thought about it. But no, I guess I didn't. I, um." She pauses, her brow briefly creasing before she can swallow back the spike of emotion. "I didn't even get to go to the funeral. My dad wanted me to leave, so I just... did." She wouldn't have had the energy to fight him on it even if the punishment hadn't felt deserved.

Talking about Loki is easier, if vaguely irritating. "Apparently it's complicated," she answers to the why of his being here now, and then sighs again with a resigned cant of her head. "And I don't know, I guess when it comes down to it, I'd rather this place be neutral on what happened before somebody got here. You never really know how different someone might be if you take them out of a shitty situation." Like Frank, who has, to her knowledge, not killed a single person either time he's been here, and now has an adopted daughter and a house and like twenty-five dogs that make him actually happy.

"And I think it's got to be at least fifteen of us from that universe, maybe more," she adds, squinting as she mentally tallies. "And some who disappeared, too."

Talking about Loki, for Bobo, is easier. Because it's about someone he hasn't coped with, and being a man that thinks kill first and worry about the consequences never. Though when she makes that commentary about the things people have done before, he sobers a bit. Rocking a bit, considering that as he nods. "I suppose I can understand that. I've tended to tell people my history before the person from my home could." At least the history he wanted them to know. "She's vanished though," he says with a shrug. No loss to Bobo, whether this place lacks Peacemaker or not.

Falling silent a moment, doing better about considering his words rather than just rushing into things. Maybe not always but with Karen, with this, he wants to make sure he doesn't say the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to be there," he murmurs, moving a step closer. "Would you want to maybe do something for him? Maybe that's why they gave you the picture? To help you say goodbye?" And if that's not what they meant, he's more than willing to try and direct it that way for her sake.

There were so many times I thought I have died

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