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IC [Apocalypse World 2e] After Ragnarok


They Seek Him Here & There
Validated User
Ylva listens to Bits' plans, her heart torn by his obvious need to work out his grief. She lets him speak until he runs out of steam, then puts her hand on his shoulder. Her voice is soft, unlike her usual commanding tone.

"I miss her too. Not like you do, but she brought joy to my life as well, and I want to honor her. I can't promise you an ocean and a fucking moon of glass, but check out what Jinders has dropped off and speak with Helga. Anything you can put together in a week with whoever she can spare you, using anything we have in sets and props and what the fuck else is in storage, do it."

She meets his gaze to let him know she is there before letting him go.
Bits' eyes glisten, but he roughly dashes the tears away and you can see a twist of self-loathing at such an unmanly display. When he lifts his head again and nods, you feel like he's heard you, like you've made some progress here - a small step on a long road, most like, but a step is a step is a step.

You get back to work, keeping your body and hands busy with a thousand little problems - fixing this and that, organising and ordering people about, sharing drinks with regulars and welcoming new faces, and all the while your mind is turning over the problem, working at it from various angles. So you're not really paying attention when a familiar figure passes you on the stairs up to the third floor - you nod and mumble a response to their "Boss" and keep on going.

You're maybe five feet along the passageway before it worms its way into your thinking brain. Bucket?


RPGnet Member
Validated User
"Hey Bucket? Glad to see you're back."

If he doesn't want to talk he doesn't want to talk. No sense in pressing him.

Too many things to do, too many contingencies, too many ifs and buts and maybes are crowding Ylva's brain. In normal times she would have checked in and made sure Bucket was okay, that nothing too crazy had happened to him, but the way things are... she has neither headspace nor heart to spare. She'll have to delegate that to someone else and that cuts her, but not deep enough to draw blood. Not anymore.
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