"Are you traveling, then?" he asks, trying to get a handle on things as he pulls his pistol from the back of his belt to see if it got wet.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Yep! Just tr-OooOoOh!" His eyes lit up when he saw the gun. "Woah! That looks cool! You really must be from another world. Your tech looks more advanced. That's a gun, yeah? Wow. It looks so sleek."
He smiled and nodded. Guns. He could talk guns. "Ja, Sig Sauer P229. Slide action, semi-automatic, and damn accurate for a handgun. 17 rounds in a standard magazine."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Bo nodded, smiling. Did he understand what all of those words meant? Not entirely. "17 rounds. Dang, that's awesome. Stuff we've got here isn't even near what you've got. Not that I carry, so I can't really show you."
He lets the magazine drop from the grip, then slides it back and checks the action and the barrel. It's surprisingly dry - only a few drops of water had gotten on it from the splash. After a few moments he seems to approve of it and lets the slide return to its initial position prior to reloading it.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Bo watched closely and curiously as Kratzer inspect his gun. "So what about you? What's this earth like? Where were you when you uh... did said the incant?"
"In my, uh..." Comrade? Ally? Friend? Girlfriend? He honestly wasn't quite sure what to call Viper at this point. "Coworker's basement. We were trying to go to Hell to kill a particular demon. Or die. Either way."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Uh..." Kratzer paused. "There's lots of different kinds, but it's a kind of creature that is...usually wholly evil and has to eat human blood, souls, or flesh for sustenance. This particular one is...who am I kidding, it's a revenge vendetta."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Bo’s eyebrows shot up and he nodded. Creatures that had to eat human blood or souls sounded intense, and made him glad that they didn’t have things like that in Nye.
“Wow. Revenge... I’m sorry a demon really must’ve done ya dirty. That sounds terrible, Kratzer.”
He blinks. Did he just...? "Uh, well, I probably had it coming," he says, shrugging it off.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
“I mean, I dunno if that’s right or not, since I have like no details and zero context but, regardless of whether you think you deserved it, it still sucks, and ‘deserve’ is such a weird concept, people usually just mean an ‘eye for an eye,’” he stopped and chuckled for a moment, then pointed at his missing eye. “Which I think I can say doesn’t really make things better in the long run. It’s nice to have two eyes.”
The assassin laughed despite himself, shaking his head. "I can imagine. Though, by the looks of you you've managed to last pretty long despite the lack of depth perception."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
“OH DON’T GET ME STARTED on depth perception!” Bo laughed. “I’ve been so long without it I can’t remember what it was like to have it,” he said as he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.
Turn your demons into art, your shadow into a friend, your fear into fuel, your failures into teachers, your weaknesses into reasons to keep fighting. Don’t waste your pain. Recycle your heart. — Andréa Balt
