Like Real People Do ✶ Aventurine

I. The start of all things.

"OH, YOU COULD MAKE A PREACHER CUSS, SUGAR." Boothill's voice crackled into existence above his pseudo-partner's shoulder, his tone laced with a teasing indication that danced on the precipice of mischief. Seven system hours had elapsed since his initial overture of collaboration, hand outstretched as honeyed assurances of imminent victory lingering in the nebulous expanse between them. "I'm fixin' to throw a hissy fit if you keep teasin' me! C'mon, darlin', you allergic to a good time?"

Resolute in her stoicism, the girl had long eschewed entanglements of allegiance with her subordinates. The notion of partnership with this vexatious spacefarer had always been a concept she regarded with no small amount of relief. From the moment she encountered the exasperating cowboy, she harboured a conviction as firm as bedrock: she would sooner witness the frigid embrace of Hell than entertain the prospect of cooperation.

"You promised there was more to it than fun, cowboy." she countered, reclining into the plush embrace of her seat as silence enveloped the space between them like a shroud. Though silence reigned as a solemn observer, it was a luxury seldom indulged in Boothill's presence. "What's new?"

The holographic projection flickered intermittently before coalescing into a semblance of solidity, perched against — well, to her eyes, nothing. There must have been a surface behind the physical Boothill. Her critical gaze lifted to him as he chuckled, a sound bordered on sardonic, punctuating the pause that followed. "I reckon you'll be singin' a different tune once you hear this, missy."

Frustration washed over the woman, her head tilting back as she closed her eyes, her patience fraying at the edges as Boothill persisted in weaving a tapestry of superfluous banter. Restlessness gnawed at her, its insistent whispers beckoning her towards the respite offered by the tousled silk sheets that awaited her weary form. It had been a week of chasing —

"Some dame's been stirrin' up trouble near you."

The girls brow furrowed in incredulity, her gaze immediately fixated upon Boothill's virtual visage as she sought to discern any trace of deception within its flickering contours. Doubt cast its long shadow over her consciousness, its presence an unwelcome guest in the theatre of her thoughts. "You don't suppose — ?"

"Well, if you're supposin' what I'm supposin', then yeah."

Brushing aside his penchant for verbosity, she slid away from the velveteen embrace of her settee to focus on the screens nearby. She felt the weight of his gaze as she moved, his curiosity palpable in his attentive observation. "What did she do?"

"I reckon you've heard of the Ever-Flame Mansion." For someone touted as a conversationalist, Boothill often strayed from brevity. "Mister Duke Inferno, always tangled up in that brotherhood... well, you're a sharp one, ain't ya?"

The girl pivoted on her heel. She'd never been one to beat about the bush — the two-toned-haired man had learned that the hard way when she once ensnared him in a headlock for his elusive speech. To him, it was all jest, but she saw each wasted moment as lost time she'd never reclaim. To a soldier, squandered time meant lives forfeited. "Cut to the chase."

"Goodness gracious, you've got the patience of a hummingbird. Can't settle things with your fists, sweetheart, and I'm just enjoying myself!" Boothill chuckled, a grin dancing across his features. Then, as if struck by sudden clarity, his expression sobered. "To the point, then... yeah, the Ever-Flame Mansion. They're gone. Every last one of 'em."

Her arms dropped to her sides, eyes widening in shock as her mind raced to grasp the implications of Boothill's revelation. The Annihilation Gang, masters of the Destruction — wiped out? Boothill enjoyed embellishing, exaggerating. With him, excitement always seemed to teeter on the edge of incredulity. "Gone?"

"As gone as the Beauty. Got your heart racin', sweetheart? There's more." Boothill's eyes gleamed, like liquid mercury beneath a flickering light. "You see, the very Charmony Festival I've been nudgin' you to join? Their invitation's been plucked from their lifeless grasp."

"The.. on Penacony?" The girl's mind scampered with a whirlwind of catechisms, each one more confounding than the last. Why would this woman target the Ever-Flame Mansion, a place steeped in blood and guarded by powerful allies? Judicature had never been an idiosyncrasy she had attributed to the woman. And why go to such lengths just to infiltrate the Charmony Festival? The revered Charmony Festival, that much was true, a celebration known galaxy-wide for its extravagant revelry — but what significance did it hold to this particular quasi-Galaxy Ranger?

Her thoughts tumbled like asteroids in a cosmic storm, probing for a rational elucidation amidst the aberrant, hazy chaos. What could be the motive behind such audacious acts? And more importantly, how had she missed the signs, the breadcrumbs leading to this cataclysmic event? Was this the ruin the woman had wished to conduct, or were the summons of The Family more than a ticket to a pleasurable sabbatical? 

As her thoughts spiralled in a maelstrom of uncertainty, Boothill's voice pierced through the tumult like a clarion call. "You've been chasing after this perp for a long while now, ain't ya?"

She blinked, momentarily stunned by the clarity of his observation. It was true. For months, she had been tirelessly pursuing the elusive figure responsible for a string of high-profile crimes, each one leaving a trail of disorientation and carnage in its wake. And now, with the Ever-Flame Mansion reduced to ashes (as ironic as it sounded) and the Charmony Festival under threat, it seemed her chance to finally apprehend the culprit had arrived.

Finally, she opened her mouth. "Your invitation still stands, I take it?"

Boothill grinned.

──── ( ♱ ) ────

THE START OF ALL THINGS,

Chapter One.

(  A / N  ) i sure hope none of u r southern haha!

anyways ass writing i forgor all of it AND ITS SOO SHORT

im sorry i didnt know what to write ........