THOUGHT GAINED: ROTTING LUCK
PROBLEM: You've gambled at a table before. Years and years ago when your scorched blood would settle for booze and a round of cards. This, you've never seen. You gather it must be a die, flung around the hands of an important man. Two others sit beside him, drinking his words, liquor long forgotten. Your fingers crawl along your stomach for the steady weight of a revolver. He must be the leader. He's much less interested in the other's thoughts; even to you, they sound flimsy, blown over with much less than a breath. He smiles curtly, the die lands on it's highest face, and he reveals the last card, kept close through the whole game.
SOLUTION: The game they play is a local version of Truco: the die decides which card is valued the highest, rolling a twenty will make it the ace. The object itself is a carved vertebrae from a bull, the beast of Mesque, but the tradition is as native as it gets. He finds you amongst the crowd, staring at his miraculously winning hand, he sees the firearm at your side, and you see the cogs in his head turning, escape routes, his own weapon, maybe? Mid-thought, he realizes if you were attempting to assassinate him, you would've done so already. His shoulders fall, a mix of ceasing adrenaline and another, more shameful emotion. There is a truth sworn by losers and known well by you that those who play well are disastrous in love.
Remember last year when I did the first five prompts for disctober and then fell off the face of the earth? Yeah I'm back with the fabled western au, hope you guys enjoy that and the copious amount of color jitter brushes.
