#dylan davis

1880 - Ireland, Galway, April 14th

The boat coming from the Americas had recently stopped in the far away land of Ireland after days of travel. The passengers walked out, some in fancy suits, other in fancy dresses, while some were in working attire ready to step up into duty for anyone in the streets of Galway.

"What a trip-" A man with a shallow beard and a scar across his face spoke, face twisted a little after leaving the boat.

"puta merda, eu ja não aguentava o cheiro desse povo Americano" He cursed loudly, a woman dressed in a black robe with white addorns chuckled.

(Holy shit, I couldn't handle the smell of these American people anymore)

"Olha a boca suja, Teodoro, nós estamos na Irlanda, seja educado" She corrected the man, Teodoro, both speaking Portuguese among themselves.

(Watch your mouth, Theodore, we are in Ireland, be polite)

"Seja como quiser, Lídia, isso não muda o fato desse povo não querer nem banho tomar" Teodoro huffed to himself before following the lady, Lídia, down the streets.

(have it your way, Lídia, but that doesn't change the fact that these people don't want to take baths)

The duo found themselves in a rich neighborhood soon enough, full of the high statuses folk who had high egos to maintain and a squeaky clean image to preserve, Teodoro thought of them as vain and mostly useless, of course, all would want to do barely anything all day and have the world in your finger tips, but what was the use of these people other than the made up jobs other rich folks created to fill a gap?

Lídia, however, was enchanted by the place around her, it looked beautiful, really, although she wasn't enchanted by the inhabitants either, sharing similar views to her younger brother.

Teodoro heard shouting and snapped his head towards the alley between two houses and slipped in right away, getting a shout from Lídia.

"What do you want from this life."

Dylan stared uptop Finn. Stared at Charles, who continued to ride down the path. Charles had asked a question he hadn't even given a thought to. What did he want... from this life.

Charles had woken Dylan fairly early, to teach the man how to hunt properly. Even if Dylan never did, he would have the skills at least. He also wanted to talk to Dylan.

When the other didn't respond after a long moment, Charles halted Taima, looking over. At the boy staring back. Would he yell? Would he do anything?

Dylan just stared for a solid minute before slowly urging Finn forward, swallowing. "...m...me..?"

Charles nodded. "You. Think about you for a moment. How do you feel right now."

"S-shit, I dunno, i-"

"Take a minute." Firm, but not harsh. That was most effective.

Dylan shifted in his saddle, looking away, down at his missing leg and biting his cheek. He felt.... "awkward."

Charles nodded with a hum. "List your reasons."

"What?"

"List your reasons."

Dylan thought this was stupid but shifted again, clearing his throat. "...I feel awkward when I walk. I feel awkward when I breath," his hand came up to rest over his bullet wounded chest, fingers tangling in the necklaces. "I uh. I feel awkward when my stomach growls." He half joked. "...and i feel weird because you're watching me."

charles smirked slightly, chuckling then looking forward. "Those were all physical."

"You never specified."

"I did not. For purpose."

Dylan eyed him now, rubbing the reings mindlessly. ".... Charles?"

"Hm?"

"How do you feel?"

Charles would normally say it wasn't about him right now. But... he saw what Dylan needed. The reassurance that another felt. That it was ok to feel. That it was normal. "Tired." He admitted. "Worried. Angry sometimes."

Dylan relaxed slightly. "Angry? At what?"

"Many things." He glanced at the curious boy, who now trotted alongside him. "People. Myself even. The law, the gang. The two-sides of life."

Dylsn nodded, looking up at the sky, then back. "....I feel simular. Though not really... angry. I.... I think I'm sad, Charles." He felt tears start to form in his eye and looked away hurriedly.

"...I don't know how to live. For myself. S-sometimes even for others." He swallowed the knot in his throat and Charles slowed. "I don't know how to feel. I don't think i do most days. I-..." he wiped his eye. "Sorry."

Charles shook his head. "Don't apologize. Not when you finally are feeling. If you are sad, then be sad. You don't have to be ok all the time. To put up a front. A wall."

"Then what good am i..."

Charles watched, cocking an eye.

Dylan continued, "the world's full of sad faces, Charles. It's... the normal. I don't want to be one of them. Another face in the crowd, complaining. Another burden on society, Another person dead." He tapped his fingers. "But I also don't know who or what i want to be."

"You're thinking of the big picture." Charles watched the other, things slowly falling into pieces. Dylan was afraid. Afraid of being passed on. Rejected even. "...have you tried starting small? Like just taking a moment to feel, like now?"

"But I don't know how." Dylan looked at him finally, his brown eye searching charles for an answer. "I-i didn't know feeling was a fuckin... stop and take a minute thing. It's supposed to come naturally. Why did I come out wrong?"

"What to you is right?"

"...i..." he glanced away. "I dunno. Someone who's smart? Someone who... who has a stable job. Who doesn't murder. Who doesn't kill. Who doesn't-"

"Is Huron bad or wrong to you."

Dylan quickly looked back over, eye wide. Before he coukd retort, Charles continued. "Theodore? Shad? Mag? Everyone? They all have killed. For their own reasons." Charles took a breath. "And they don't have stable jobs, beside Huron. Does that make them less than the law?"

"No!" Dylans brow furrowed. "The law is corrupt and-"

"Then you do not know what is good, or bad." Charles shook his head. "In this world, it is a thin line to tell. And you keep trying to organize everyone into a heap."

Silence filled tge space as the two continued their ride. Each thinking their own.

"...why do you live?" Dylan asked softly. He had heard from the old spirit, that one should live for themself. Did charles? The man acted like he had it figured out, so one would assume-

"I live because I do."

Dylan gave him a look. "...that's not-... huh? But... what?"

"I am not too stubborn for death. I do not fear it. I don't mot live for people, and I do not live for me. I am simply alive.... because I have not died." Charles looked at him.

"But when I do that, it's wrong?"

"Who said it was wrong?"

Dylan swallowed. "...no one i guess. It's just... I dunno, an underlying thing. Everyone lives for something."

"Not everyone." Charles shook his head. "The difference between you and I, is you search for death. The thrill. You push your boundaries. You embrace death."

"I do not fear it, but I do not welcome it." Charles continued. "Life is fragile, and I am not keen on giving it up just yet. What i want fron this life, is to live. Live as much as I can. With those who I can."

Dylan blinked. So... simple. But he knew there was more. There was always more with charles. The man held his feelings, held his thoughts, letting them slip in bits. In pieces. Never a whole... not usually...

"....I don't know what i live for..."

"And that is ok. But that doesn't mean throw away your life. To get hurt to... be unique or something." The man shook his head. "Dylan, you are unique. You are worth something. Your family knows it. I know it. You do not need to put yourself in harms way... just to be different and not perceived as boring."

Dylan said nothing. For he didn't fully believe it. Tears came to his eye again and he bit his lip.

Charles stopped near a tree, dismounting Taima and patting her neck. Dylan slowly followed, unsure what they were doing; he couldn't see straight.

Charles didn't do this. Not to anybody; he had to Arthur once, To john, and to Javier. But Dylan needed it. So, he walked iver abd wrapped his arms around the boy. Immediately quiet sobs were heard, the boys wall crumbling in that moment.

"One does not need purpose to live... for being alive is it's own.