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

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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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Vasquez smiles at that like anyone would when they think about someone they like a great deal. He won't say love out loud, not to Bobo, but he probably already knows. "I hope he does come find me. It's always a more interesting day when he does," he admits.

"I don't think we could share books," he admits. "I could teach him Spanish, but then I don't get to have the fun of speaking in front of him and him not understanding," he admits. "Where I come from, you spend a little time with someone and if they got along, they got married and had children. That won't work for us. I have no child-bearing hips," he deadpans.

"Suppose I need to find a way to turn a shirt into earplugs. He's loud enough as it is," he teases, still finding all of this so new and exciting and different. He has friends. Actually friends. People he shares with. It's odd, but he wouldn't give it up for the world either.

"Don't teach him. What's the fun in that," he says, smirking. "And you don't but he does," Bobo points out, smirking. "But I remember when life was a lot like that. If the weather was nicer, you two could go on trips, explore together, go camping, but don't do it," he says, eyes narrowing. "Not right now. Not that you would," he says with a smirk.

"You two need a project to work on together."

"He's very loud," Vasquez agrees, but there's no remorse in his words. If anything, it's the opposite and he sounds extremely proud by Faraday's volume issues, which means that they're never going to stop being insufferable, so long as they're both there.

"I might not teach him, but others could. Spanish isn't that hard to learn." At least, not for everyone. He thinks maybe he's starting with reading and writing English, though, so he might have some time. "A project," he echoes.

"What kind of project are you thinking?"

Bobo rolls his eyes, but there's enough of a smile there that he isn't at all bothered. That doesn't mean he's not going to keep giving them shit.

Making a bit of a face, Bobo nods. "I know a bit, but not much. We spoke more French in Purgatory," he notes. "So you won't have to worry about him learning it from me."

Bobo shifts, sitting back and considering that. "Easy enough of one would be that we could use a corral around that building we're using for a barn. Split logs and get them put up. I got nails in a box with the steel for the horse shoes, and you could work on that. Likely we're going to need to take a look at the roof eventually. Just to make sure it's holding up. Could work on furniture for the house if you thought there was anything we needed."

"I'm not so sure that I want us to be doing any of the things we did in Rose Creek before the battle," Vasquez admits, shifting a little in his seat, knowing that he's uncomfortable even thinking about it. "It's not a good reminder of what came next."

"Something for the house, though, I think that could work. Maybe we can make a couch, if we find something to stuff the seats with?" he says, thinking of the purple animals and their wool.

Bobo nods, understanding avoiding the things that trigger thoughts of the past. He's been doing a bit of that himself. "And no need to do that or talk about it. I can work on the corral, hope to get it done before the snow gets too bad around the village."

He's not always sure what they're doing with all of this, but he's in for the long haul and seeing how things turn out.

"Could go with those llamas," he points out. "Could find sweetgrass like we uses to use for beds and wrap it in that purple fluff." He pauses and then chuckles. "Let me guess. That's the next of the herd?"

Vasquez shrugs, like he hasn't been thinking about it for a while. Maybe he shouldn't be so occupied with adding more animals to the group, but it makes him feel useful. It takes him back to before he was an outlaw, and that's not something he thinks should be so easily ignored.

"We started taking over another building, so we can have more of them now," he says. "Maybe our first project is to build a pen for them, really."

"We're making this a home, a ranch, and that means animals," he says with a nod, understanding that. He may not have done it even in his time, but he knows enough about it to know what they can do about it all.

"So we find the animals we need, and we set everything up for all that we need. Corrals and pens, feeding troughs, and we take care of them. So what do we need to do?"

"Find the food to feed them," he says, and gives Bobo the kind of smile that says he's already started on that task, because he's here. He knows that he can get whatever he wants if he asks nicely enough, but also that he's not going to be getting prime cuts.

"Maybe for a while, you could bring us the spares you have?" he suggests, with a shrug, like he's just thinking about it.

"Been gathering the taller grasses from off to the north, and setting up a bin for those. As for the rest, I can definitely do that," he says with a nod, thinking of the scraps and such he has. "Especially since I haven't seen Liv or Blaine for a while, and that means more there as well."

Because he will make use of all he can, and what can help his household first, so be it.

Everything that Bobo can help with will be good, because there's only so many hands they have and the last thing Vasquez wants to do is bring more strangers to have to help with the work. "Good," he insists firmly, because he doesn't want to have to worry about any of that.

"Not that I would mind Faraday having to work extra hard and take his shirt off to help," he admits. "So maybe he can bundle the grasses for eating, cut them down."

It's the one thing they share. A desire to see this done by them. Even as things start to expand, and the south village has little choice but to start making the hike they do, it's still been their village, their homestead, and Bobo likes sticking by that. No matter how crowded it might get.

Bobo rolls his eyes though as Vasquez goes on, smirking at him. "You know, there was a time you liked me working shirtless,' he teases, finding a comfort in their relationship. It had been more, but friendship is something Bobo hasn't had much of in his life, and having the friendship he shares now means a lot to him.

"Who says I don't like that still?" Vasquez counters playfully as he sprawls back comfortably where he's sitting, giving Bobo a quirk of his brow. He might have a boyfriend and a partner now in Faraday, but he hasn't gone blind.

"I just don't get to do anything about it after, the way I do with him. Someone else lucky gets to have that," he says, leaning forward and nodding to him. "Is there anyone these days?"

"Yeah well, I'm not pushing your boy so I have to kill him in a gunfight," he teases, smirking though as he says it. "But maybe I need to accidentally go without a shirt more often." And he will do it, just because he likes flirting... and to annoy Faraday.

Bobo falls silent then, looking at Vasquez and considering. Not about secrets, but about being open about the things he's felt.

"I know you trust me," he begins, which isn't exactly answering the question. "But have spent some time with a few people. One of them? They let me actually tie them up. Not like kidnapping but this pretty knots and all they taught me. Trusted me to do that," he says, a bit of awe in his voice, still confused by that. "Trusted me with their life. It's... haven't had that since Hell. Not like this."

"Please don't get either of you killed," Vasquez pleads, seeing as he really doesn't want to have to clean up bodies, and he definitely doesn't want to have to grieve either of them. He snorts at the idea of Bobo without a shirt, because he does like looking.

Faraday might not like that so much, though.

"Pretty knots?" he echoes, which never would have been something that Vasquez could do, with his issues. "That's impressive," he admits. "You going to keep seeing them?"

"Hey, not gonna happen, okay? I know how you feel about him." And he's not willing to do that to Vasquez. Not now that they're here and have this. Shirtless though, that he could do for both of them. It's not like he doesn't miss Vasquez and all they've shared.

He grins at that, shrugging. "It's an interesting hobby I'm learning, I can tell you that." And he's enjoying it. "Yeah. Definitely," he says with a nod. "Known him for nearly as long as I've known you in this place," he admits. "Definitely plan on more."

Vasquez ducks his head down, because he doesn't want Bobo seeing the way he smiles. It would ruin his reputation if he actually actively looks like he wants to be with Faraday so much, so he's got to be more careful. "He's okay," he deadpans, as if his smile doesn't give him away.

"I'm glad," he adds, sincerely. "I might have to meet him, stalk him a while, just to make sure I like him for you. He won't hurt me if I do that?"

"Yeah. I'm learning about how people that are okay can be," he says, chuckling and amused but not calling Vasquez on it. It mattered that they knew. It didn't matter what others knew or thought about them.

Bobo snorts at that. "I don't think he's capable of hurting people unless they hurt him first the way he acts." He pauses and then adds. "You know Bull?"

He hasn't met him, but it's impossible not to know who Bobo is talking about, because the man looks like his name in height and stature, which means that Vasquez knows. "We haven't talked, but I've seen him," he supplies, giving Bobo an amused look. "If he wanted to hurt someone, I think he would have no troubles," he says.

Then again, Jack Horne had been the same, no? Big man, but with a kind heart, under it all, just very abused and bruised.

"He's got the physical ability, and I'm sure he can and could, but he's such a good man. It's kind of interesting, and scary as all hell," he admits. He can admit that to Vasquez. They've been lovers, but he's the first true friend Bobo has had in his entire life.

"Never known someone who is good like that. Someone that caring, who looks out for others when he could make them do for him."

Vasquez can only imagine. Even if he only imagined horns on Faraday, that would be something that would be hell to control, he can't even believe what it would be like if suddenly he had to worry about a man like that. "But you care for him too," he says.

"Which is new for you," he keeps going, studying him, since Bobo seems unnerved by it, a little. "Is that why it's scary? Because he's good? I'm not good," he points out with a smirk. "Maybe it was easier with me because of that."

It's on the tip of his tongue to argue, but in the end Bobo merely nods. "I do. Actually, I think a lot." Which is so odd for him as well. It's only been months since Willa's betrayal, since he had spent years only knowing that he would never love again. Finding he might be capable of it is odd.

He chuckles at that, but it has a wry edge. "Because he trusts me. Like genuinely, truly has faith in me. I don't even trust me," he says, rolling his eyes. "And you're very good, but we don't have sex anymore," he teases, because that's easier than emotions.

"No, but I have very fond memories of all that sex," Vasquez says as he reminisces with a smirk on his face, because it had definitely been good before the man he'd been yearning for had suddenly turned up and given Vasquez a chance.

He gives Bobo an encouraging nod. "Don't screw it up, I think. It sounds like you have a good thing."

He chuckles at that, nodding. "It was good. More than that, there's this," he says, gesturing between them. "Spent a lot of years surrounded by minions that feared me, and those waiting to kill me. You were the first person I didn't feel wasn't one or the other." Or a daughter, though Waverly would deny that as well.

"I don't plan on it." Which isn't saying much given he is pretty sure his existence itself is cursed. "I think I told you the same at some point. Maybe I just thought it." But then he'd seen it wasn't entirely one sided, even if he thought Vasquez could do better. Doesn't matter if he can. Matters he's in love with that idiot they share a house with.

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There were so many times I thought I have died

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