[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Iaca30QbOo[/youtube][/center] [i]"Good morning, Dust, Ash and the whole known world! How's it feel to make it to another day alive? I'm your host, 'Lolo' Amarillo! And you..." "Well..." "You're someone, aren't you? Perhaps a thief, or a lowly iron worker, maybe a renowned leader? A quiet bum? I couldn't know, because I don't know you. Not personally... but I do know, that for however long you decide to stay tuned, you're also a listener. Whether you've tuned in at No-Name or in King's Retreat-- when you listen to WTJR, our friendly desert radio community, where the light is blinding, most of the music is 3 centuries old, and we all trudge through the day, pretending that this is okay, that it will all pay off somehow... to avoid screaming, to avoid crying, to avoid going crazy, to avoid just ending it all... You can take solace in knowing that you aren't alone." "I appreciate you dropping in on our little radio family, whether you're a first time listener, or a long time fan.... I hope you're all doing exceptionally well..." "...and good morning!" "So! That was Bruce Springsteen reminding us why we [i]don't[/i] look directly into the scorching Dust sun with 'Blinded by the Light.' Music really is amazing, over 300 years later and that message is truer than ever. Parent; remind your children that looking into the sun is [i]not[/i] a good way to be like our Prime Minister, Lucania. Golden eyes might look charming, but their eyes would be much better suited to gazing into the infinite abyss of a book than the burning, unfeeling sun!" "Umm, hmm, what's next? Oh! Some news!" [i]*the sounds of papers shuffling can be heard, followed by a period of silence*[/i] "Awww damn, really?" [i]*silence*[/i] "Alright..." [i]*sigh*[/i] "Fresh from the grapevine here, as in-- we [i]just[/i] heard this. Many of you Wintergolders probably knew Long John as a kind of selfish Robin Hood-- stole from the rich, [i]mostly[/i] gave back to himself-- his fans will be sad to learn that he's met his end on this mortal coil. Apparently the price on his head by his rivals caught up to him, and a bounty hunter offed him earlier today... some guy called the Bladed Devil..." "Hope the gold was worth it, guy..." [i]*silence*[/i] "Man, I need to go wake and bake. This next one goes out to Long John's friends and family-- y'all keep on fighting."[/i] [center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMErlY2CIs0[/youtube][/center] [hr] [i]'Medicine...'[/i] Heavy bass traveled lazily through the blown out speaker of a radio that would have been considered antique in the old world into the living space of a small apartment in a hastily built, sunburnt pueblo, somewhere within the fringes of Wintergold territory on Ash. This living space, about the size of an Old World economy car in area, and about double that in height, was filled with various artifacts and trinkets of the world before the Old World. Some functional, like the radio, but most seemed to strewn about, placed on tables and hung on walls or placed on shoddily crafted shelves, photographs of brown men and women, some were serious, dressed in suits and standing before a flag-- most appeared fierce and happy, in various states of undress, with tattoos and face paint-- erstwhile, clay figurines, carved stones and old journals populated all manner of scrap metal three-legged wobbly tables and chairs. In the center of this living space, there was a rug that may well have been newspapers gathered into a rough circle. In the center of this rug, sat a boy, whose body was closer to that of a man, however despite his age of 15, he had the mind of a child. He resembled the brown warriors in the paintings, with wild hair held back in two large braids. He was dressed in a loose red tank-top, and rainbow striped shorts, despite his age, he rippled with wiry muscle. He played with an old toy firetruck and an ancient, priceless rock with a man carved into it's face, lined with amethyst and lapis lazuli. He played with his toys quietly, for the most part. Occasionally he would interject into a conversation between the other occupants of the apartment, or make a [i]"pffftftphttthth"[/i] sound whilst playing. But for the most part, he was quiet. The boy sat facing the outer wall of the apartment, toward a large square window with no glass mired in it's hardened mud square into the outside. A woman, sitting on a stool stolen from a local bar, leaned out, blowing smoke into the the desert air. Like the boy, she resembled one of those brown warriors from the [i]Old[/i] Old World, she had the tattoos, but not the face paint. Each breath she took tied her to a tribes whose name was all but forgotten, and she had the scowling glare of someone who didn't care. The world, her life, her smoking-- had given some age to her round face-- bags and crows feet were beginning to plague her almond shaped eyes, her nose was bent, ever so slightly, and a permanent diagonal scar ran it's length, she nursed a recently scabbed over wound on her bottom lip, more likely from a club than a punch. In spite of discolorations and scars dotting her body, she possessed an enduring, almost exotic beauty that many would refuse to deny. Her beauty had served her very little. She gazed out of the window tired, despite the day just having begun. The woman well built, possibly even moreso than the boy; a lifetime of bad decisions endowing her with a body of enviable hip and muscle. She wore a dusty, faded black and white poncho, that may have had more stitches than the original fabric itself, underneath was a long sleeved black shirt. On her legs were worn black skinny jeans, rolled up to her calves to allow her to hear shin hugging, golden cowboy boots. Very clearly stolen. Then again, everything this woman wore was stolen. Well, everything except the scarf she wore on her head and held her hair, a long black mess of curls, straight hair, and unfinished braids, back in a pony tail like a gypsy. That was a gift from the boy to her. Combined with loop earrings and her propensity for stealing only colorful jewelry, she looked like a mesh between a pirate and a cowboy. She had the ability to out drink both, combined. To [i]her[/i] left was a mess of fabric bunched in the corner of the apartment that would become her hammock when she needed to sleep, to her right was backpack, shoved into the corner opposite, containing all her personal items, ranging from hygiene products to sentimental items. To the [i]boy's[/i] left, was a table made out of a re-purposed cabinet where the antique radio sat, to his right was a couch twice as old as him, that wasn't originally brown, where he slept when the need arose. Behind the both of them, boy and woman, was a small bed, where an older woman currently slept, a wood stove, and two coolers, on top of which lay a stale bucket of water and a neatly organized, but meager collection of plates, bowls, glasses, and silverware. And of course, behind the boy and the woman, and to the immediate left of the old woman in the bed, was the door. The convenient exit out of the second story apartment, leading to a courtyard that all the pueblo apartments led to. Intended to be used as a meeting place for all the residents to gather and talk, the courtyard was never used. The courtyard was the portal one took to enter into the sands of Ash another day, or the pool one hoped into to escape it for the comfort of one's home. There was a lawnchair where the landlord usually sat fanning herself, appraising those who come and go-- but she wasn't there at this moment. The old woman in the bed was there, though! There, laying in her bed. In her apartment. She looked like a she-wolf with the gray mane of a lion, her physique was one of a fragile china doll, harsh wrinkles snaked her tiny, shrunken body. She usually looked like the type of old woman who would greet anyone with a smile and offer them a bowl of subpar salamander soup and cookies. [i]Usually.[/i] Today, she looked as though she might break every trinket, bauble, and artifact in the room. As the song continued on, she sat up in the bed, practically growing the word 'malparido'--[i]'bastard'[/i] in her language, to herself, she gripped her covers tightly. And as the song came to a close, and looped into another round of dreary, ethereal [i]'don't be, what you want to--'[/i]s. The only woman, clearly exasperated, could take no more and walked over to the coolers. Blowing out another stream of woody smoke, the woman at the window rounded on her barstool and jeered, "What'ch gettin,' Abuela?" The Grandmother paused just before the cooler, robes sliced the dust in the air as she turned. "Algo para beber..." Her voice was devoid of emotion, and a tad shrill, "¿Qué tenemos?" The woman bobbed her head to the beat of 'medicine' and took another slow pull of her dying cigarette, treating it as a medication all onto its own, "Tequila y vodka." Another two types of medicine the women had been conditioned to need. "Vodka?" The boy perked up, bright and happy, smiling between the two, "Don't you mean lick... lick... liqui... uh, don't you mean [i]water Russians?[/i]" The Grandmother narrowed her eyes, "¿Qué? ¿De dónde sacó eso?" she shot a glare to the woman, "¿Qué significa eso, Daniella?" Almost immediately, Daniella whined under the accusation, "I don't knoooooow," with the 'ooo's her eyes rolled, from her grandmother back toward the radio, "It's just a thing the kids repeat to each other now, abuela.." She stood to stretch, "Es estúpido." "No, auntie! I heard it from Milo downstairs, he's from Laguna and he said he heard it in a church!" Daniella gestured toward her grandmother, as if to say 'well there you go.' The old woman shook her head and sighed, raising an eyebrow as she saw Daniella rise, "¿A donde vas?" Daniella grabbed her bag, and flicked the butt of the cigarette out the window with long, calloused fingers. It landed on the roof of an outhouse and she found herself praying to all types of gods that the dry wooden structure didn't catch fire. She couldn't deal with a month of this place smelling like burning shit [i]and[/i] having to deal with her landlord bitch about it, and then of course she'd mention how their rent was late, again... Knowing her luck, exactly that was going to happen. She needed to get out of here... Giving a shrug as she walked to the door, she bent down to speak to her grandmother at eye level, "Long Johnny was a snake... But he kept his word to us, and Christ knows Jolyne loved him, for whatever reason." At the mention of the name 'Jolyne, both women bowed their heads and made crosses across their chests, "She was... the smart one. She'd have wanted us to [i]all[/i] go pay our respects," an aloof smile appeared on her face, "Besides, I hear there's some horrible bladed devil out to get anyone with a mark on her head, I'll be safer with an old lady and a kid to look more family like... maybe we can pay the devil a visit? Y'know, really give him our thanks!" "Bastard." Was all the Grandmother could say. "Haha," The boy chuckled, "Bastard. I see what you did there, calling him bastard. That's funny." The Grandmother turned slowly to the young boy, a look of disbelief and and an all too regular feeling of anger apparent on her wrinkled face. Behind her eyes was contempt enough to fill 1,000 novels, but she only spat out one word in response to what the boy had said; "¿Qué?" "Well, you called him a bastard!" The boy flailed his arms about, with all the strength of a bull, and all the speed of a Wolfwater wolf, "Because he's a bastard!" He smiled a wide, ignorant grin, "Like, he's a bad man, but also because he was born without a dad, and he uses a sword named bastard! It's like, being a bastard is his thing or something! That's so funny! You're really funny grandma!!" The Grandmother gripped the bridge of her nose, "Jesús, ¿podría por favor cállate la boca, Danny? Los adultos están hablando aquí." Without showing the slightest indication of being hurt, Danny went back to playing with his truck. Daniella smirked and laughed. "Aww, abuela!!" Daniella stopped down to where Danny was playing and hugged him tightly, "He's just as important to me as the best ladrón this side of Mount Edor, don't make me choose between you two!" The Grandmother sucked in air between her teeth. Daniella smiled like a maniac, wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, eyes without irises gleamed mischievous, "Besides, my gift works best on half-wits! He'll be my number 2 in case we need to punch something." Daniella slapped Danny on the back of his head, "Come on, stinky, we're going into town." "Oh yay!" He jumped up, "Am I gonna get to be a brave action hero again!?" "Maybe," Daniella held the door open for the other two, "We're going to go see the guy who killed your father." [hr] [center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMErlY2CIs0[/youtube][/center] [i]*microphones can be heard squealing as papers are sent flying as someone out of breath reaches the recording booth* *heavy breathing* "Haha... haha..." *a deep breath* "You guys... I am sooo sorry we kept that track on loop for almost two hours!" *stifled laughter* "Like, Beth an I were were carving out an muttfruit right? You know, muttfruit bongs? A Dust classic-- so anyway, this new intern comes up to us and he's all 'Oh, you guys are so 2200's, you guys need to try this new bong, it extracts all the THC from the Gaen green's lifetime to really give you a high quality high. So then Beth..." *more stifled laughter* "So then Beth is like 'Gravity bongs are for 14 year old's, Trevor.'-- I totally high fived her for that. Classic Beth. Okay, but then Trevor goes on to tell us how gravity bongs are so 21st century. He says we're thinking about things too temporally right, and that we need to expand our consciousness beyond our dimension, and then he introduced us to this 5D bong and like..." "Like..." "I can't like... Like... this thing is straight outta Dresden and it's like..." "Like hot-boxing your [i]face[/i], man. Like you go full on biblical and you've got a burning bush in your fucking [i]lungs[/i] getting you high. Like you just think it's a gas mask or whatever and then you actually start burning the lime green and..." "Man..." *silence* "So yeah, that's where I was! Getting some [i]"medicine,"[/i] I guess it was apropros I had that beat on loop, huh? Anyway, let's get toooo..." "Oh shit! The morning news! It's almost noon, I totally blanked-- sorry about that folks. Okay, so we'll continue the rest of our morning news with some other bounties, some obituaries, some local happenings and events... but first, I'm obliged to bring you to--" "The weather."[/i] [center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XI3TfTESdx8[/youtube][/center]