audience: boothill

[mygod]

Comments

[shirtbag]

[ TCH! ]

'Least yer honest.

[ AWFUL. ]

Saw you snackin' while we all ran 'round like some forkin' circus. You end up in that horse costume?

[mygod]

I'm always honest.

[ they should be less so, in fact. but eventually after a short pass through the fog that makes way for them and leaves a little space for boothill, they will arrive at the garden.

they laugh at the memory ]

Yes. We were horribly uncoordinated. Death nearly ate dirt. It was funny, though.

[shirtbag]

[ DON'T MAKE FUN OF VIKTOR ]

Huh. Somehow you didn't seem like the type for horsin' 'round like that. Guess you fooled me.

[mygod]

I may be an unkind person, but I would hate even more to be called dull.

[ don't admit to this so easily ]

It isn't bad for the brain to take breaks now and again from work and certainty.

[shirtbag]

I can understand not wantin' to be borin', but you really ain't got any issue with actin' like an ash-vole? What for, anyway?

[mygod]

[ cants head to the side ]

It would be inaccurate to call it an act. It's simply how I always have been.

I do not like to be surrounded by nattering people with nothing important to say, so it's more of an advantage than anything else. I care about results and action, not dressed up sentiments.

[shirtbag]

But you ain't averse to takin' a load off every once'n a while. Could say that ain't important neither, yeah? No results outta that 'cept for some old-fashioned fun.

[mygod]

[ shakes head ]

There is a difference. Breaks are beneficial for the brain. Amusement isn't bad, as far as emotions go. One cannot dedicate every last hour of every last day to work or else they will work against the limitations of their own body.

However, pretty words that someone doesn't mean are helpful for no one. Would you rather I be dishonest for the sake of flattery?

[shirtbag]

Mm. [ he can't argue with that first part. ] Less about flattery, more 'bout cooperation. Respect. Never know when ya' might need connections.

How many friends you got back home?

[mygod]

[ simply: ]

They're dead.

[shirtbag]

[ 🧍‍♂️ I SEE ]

Fudge.

What happened to 'em?

[mygod]

[ famine turns their head, adjusts their cloak hood and taps the side of their neck. it would be funny if the ink wasn't showing up but it is... it shows up through the cloth and simply says FAILED TO SAVE THEM

i think we said boothill can magically read this ]

[shirtbag]

[ we did! otherwise i have 80 million threads i have to retcon 🥹

he is genuinely shocked. ]

Son of a nice lady... Y'all got these letters on ya' too? How's that work?

[mygod]

[ turns to face boothill again and lazily adjusts their hood ]

It's probably the lingering magic within this space. It affects all of you, and us.

[shirtbag]

Magic again. Can't say I understand how all'a that works. Thought y'all were some kinda authority figures, ain't affected by any a'this.

[ briefly spreads out both arms and shakes his head towards the floor. ]

Well, anyway.

[ those words did strike a chord with him. his voice lowers, and he searches what he can of famine's face from under the brim of his hat. ]

Save 'em from what?

[mygod]

We do have more power and comfort than all of you, but the oddities and fluctuations of this place seem to be more about location than our own natural immunities.

[ famine's expression is hard to read, given the mask, but they don't seem bothered by the question ]

Themselves. Some people don't wish to be saved. I was intentionally blinded and betrayed, and wasn't fast enough to intervene before they were gone.

[shirtbag]

They didn't want you in on whatever they were doin'? They know you'd stop 'em?

[mygod]

Yes. They were foolish and ruinous for that, but in the end, the failure is mine.

[ time to be nosy though. famine obviously looks boothill over for his tattoos too ]

[shirtbag]

[ it's easy to find since the words appear on his slutty cowboy jacket after this failure is mentioned:

GRAEY NICK CLEMENTINE

right over his boobs. thankfully boothill can't see where famine's eyes are going. ]

Sounds like they thought whatever they were doin' would work. What was it anyway?

[mygod]

They were trying to fix what they thought was broken by destroying it entirely.

[ looks at the boobhills in a nonspicy way ]

"Graey Nick Clementine".

[ famine does not know who or what this is, but figures boothill should know what his bobertsons are saying ]

[shirtbag]

[ HIS BOOBHILL BOBERTSONS

Where's the forkin' sense in that? he could ask, but those three words have him stunned.

thankfully this isn't the first time someone's read out these words. he looks down and sees them. he mumbles, voice gravely, and shakes his head. ]

Fork me.

[mygod]

[ 🥺 yea his booboongas

famine gives him a moment, but since they were answering questions, they clearly expect the same ]

Who or what is that? Is it a fear or a regret?

[shirtbag]

Didn't think you'd wanna know.

[ FAMINE SAID THEY DON'T LIKE WASTING TIME 😭 (thank you for moving the thread along)

boothill crosses his arms and looks down. ]

Graey and Nick're the ones who found a little baby out there in the snow, on a big ole rock in space called Aeragan-Epharshel. Raised him right. Taught him fishin', huntin', colt-ridin', plants and animals out there in the wilds. That there baby grew into a bona-fide cowboy.

Don't know if it was fate'r some higher power playin' tricks. That cowboy found 'nother baby in the snow, brought her home to Graey and Nick. That's lil' Clementine.

[mygod]

I am curious.

[ gently lets this thread roll in its casual pace ]

Your adoptive parents, and your... adoptive child?

[ BOOTHILL DILF? ]

[shirtbag]

[ boothill dilf 👨 bootdilf ]

Could say that. Don't feel much like a father, though. Too little time.

[ glares at the ground under his hat. ]

Situation ain't unlike yours. Spaceship landed 'n started drillin' into the earth for precious ore. Said us "uncivilized cowboys" were "uncooperative," 'n they had ta "assume administration" by any means necessary.

Cowboy went home after infiltratin' the ship, 'cept everythin' was razed to high heaven. Couldn't find nothin' or no one. No sign of that little tyke who just took her first steps. All long gone. No time for grievin' neither.