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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

There were so many times I thought I have died

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