Now I know there's no one I can trust - I used to think there was
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
you can tell me that I'm cutthroat but I think you've got your eyes closed
Bart is pissed.
What that usually means is he’s hurt, but only one person here would know that, and he’s the cause of Bart’s current fuckery of an emotional state.
Everything had been busy, Bart knew that, and horrible to boot. The clinic, the fires, Sunjata stepping down as Governor. But his brother, brother-in-law, and niece all jumping ship with a rushed explanation at best? Yeah, he’s pissed. And feeling pretty abandoned.
He’d stuck it out in Torchline for a while longer, not sure what the hell else to do and unwilling to be a leech even longer by following the family and intruding as they got their footing. Hell, he’d thought it would be a good idea himself. Stretch his own legs, give them all some privacy, some time to heal.
Except he’s selfish, and pretty friendless with Aurelia disappearing into thin air and his last run in with Maeve ending with her snipping at him. So here he is in King’s End, not really knowing where his brother ended up moving. Wandering around in snow sucks ass, and makes him miss asphalt and concrete more than he ever thought he would, but Bart has no magic or cool powers and he’s already come this far so turning back is a multi-day adventure his stubbornness isn’t willing to undertake. Hiking his jacket collar higher, he abruptly falls backwards into the snow, arms splayed in a half-hearted snow angel. Or that’s what he tells himself he’s doing. Definitely not pouting.
“Fuck you too,” he grumbles at the sky, blank and grey above him as the snow soaks into his pants eagerly. “Good fuckin’ goin’ Bartie,” he groans, and does absolutely nothing to alleviate the problem.
What that usually means is he’s hurt, but only one person here would know that, and he’s the cause of Bart’s current fuckery of an emotional state.
Everything had been busy, Bart knew that, and horrible to boot. The clinic, the fires, Sunjata stepping down as Governor. But his brother, brother-in-law, and niece all jumping ship with a rushed explanation at best? Yeah, he’s pissed. And feeling pretty abandoned.
He’d stuck it out in Torchline for a while longer, not sure what the hell else to do and unwilling to be a leech even longer by following the family and intruding as they got their footing. Hell, he’d thought it would be a good idea himself. Stretch his own legs, give them all some privacy, some time to heal.
Except he’s selfish, and pretty friendless with Aurelia disappearing into thin air and his last run in with Maeve ending with her snipping at him. So here he is in King’s End, not really knowing where his brother ended up moving. Wandering around in snow sucks ass, and makes him miss asphalt and concrete more than he ever thought he would, but Bart has no magic or cool powers and he’s already come this far so turning back is a multi-day adventure his stubbornness isn’t willing to undertake. Hiking his jacket collar higher, he abruptly falls backwards into the snow, arms splayed in a half-hearted snow angel. Or that’s what he tells himself he’s doing. Definitely not pouting.
“Fuck you too,” he grumbles at the sky, blank and grey above him as the snow soaks into his pants eagerly. “Good fuckin’ goin’ Bartie,” he groans, and does absolutely nothing to alleviate the problem.
Feel the fear and swallow back the tears
let weakness disappear
let weakness disappear
BARTHOLOMEW
