🌲 + cyrek, give me something bastards related hehe
🌲 ─ go on a walk through the woods
Matevos pointed a hand in the direction of the south, near the lake. "I died there," he said to Cyrek, not a beat of pause as he did say it. They were all... new people, and Matevos could remember his original self well enough. Mostly because he'd made it his goal to not be anything like that original self.
Cyrek seemed distracted, but his head jerked up at the comment. His eyes followed Matevos' finger.
The original Matevos, a sorry type of fellow, born in a deadbeat home to two deadbeat parents who should've never had kids. Always dressed in filthy and torn clothing, always wondering if upon returning home from school there would be electricity or warm water available.
The original Matevos who left home without the intention of coming back, without parents who would call for him, without friends who would miss him. Who had always begged for a dog, but never gotten one. Who had always tried to make his parents proud, but never lived up to their expectations.
The original Matevos, American, dead, exactly there where life meant for him to be.
"My truck broke down in the night, I got out, slipped, hit my head on the way down, and then I fell asleep." He shrugged. "Or well, fell dead, I guess." He continued walking again. "Thank god my car was still there! Nobody stole my stuff."
Not that there had been anything to steal.
"Crazy right, that I can still remember that? I think it's crazy, scary too. Though... doesn't feel like something that happened to me."
He was a British citizen who lived in Anchorage, had a veterinarian practice, did crime, and had plenty of friends, people who would mourn him and miss him when he was gone. He was sure of that.
The original Matevos didn't know what he was missing.
"Anyhow, I hid the loot in the cabin, figured best time as any to get it back? Or maybe leave it for a little while longer. Don't matter, I want you to look at it, tell me how much it would get us? Maybe fill all our pockets a bit?"
