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I want to go home

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“Trip.”

His shoulders stiffened at the sound of his name. He didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

Aimee folded her arms and smirked as she leaned against the tack room’s doorframe. “You’re brooding again.”

He pulled his cigarette to his lips and stared out the window, his hand in his pocket. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

He sighed. “If I’m quote ‘brooding’, it’s only because that damn horse is impossible.”

Aimee tilted her head and stared at his back. “Thought you said, quote, ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle.’”

Trip simply took another drag on his cigarette. “He’ll be show ready in the next few weeks.” He said casually. “He’ll break.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Quit picking apart my words.”

“You didn’t answer.” She said.

Trip let out a breath. “A horse like that needs a firm hand.” He said stiffly. “The sooner he figures out that the world’s not against him the better.”

The room was silent as Aimee stood upright and stared straight into him. “Maybe you should listen to your own advice.” She said quietly.

Trip hesitated. “What’re you talking about?”

“C’mon,” she said as she moved into the room. “Ever since you’ve been here, you’ve made it very clear that you don’t want to stay. And you don’t let us forget it; you remind us every chance you get.” She drew up behind him and leaned her arm on the saddle he had brought out on the stand. “You can’t keep brushing off our world forever.”

He snorted “I don’t plan on staying here forever.” He sounded a bit snappish. “As soon as that portal opens up again, I’m gone. Goodbye big-name department stores and corporate giants, hello Chicago 1916. We didn’t have the threat of nuclear war back then, and drunk drivers were more stupid than dangerous.” He tapped out the ashes. “Better all the way around.”

At this point, Taylor would’ve been fuming, arguing that he was just being difficult. But Aimee could see something under his rough exterior. “You’re homesick, aren’t you?”

He didn’t move for a long time as he continued to stare out the window. He paused, “You make it sound like a disease.” He muttered.

“It is, in a way.” She said gently. “It hurts, very much. And the only way to cure it is with time and patience. The sooner you realize that the world’s not against you, the better.” She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Time will heal, you’ve just got to give it a chance.”

Suddenly, he wrenched away. “Time,” he spat, startling her. “Time doesn’t heal, it festers. If we’re still using metaphors, it opens wounds and rubs salt in them.” With frustrated steps, he began to pace. “Time is the enemy; it kills. It takes things away. One minute, you could be telling her you love her, the next you’re on a train to Tijuana. It’s actually quite funny that way; sometimes it just likes to spite you.”

Aimee took a step back. “Trip, you’ve got it all wrong –“

He screeched to a halt and glared at her, “I’ve got it…? Look at you, snug and safe, knowing the federales aren’t coming to slit your throat at night! Sleeping, without a care that you might just be sucked up into a time vortex at the peak of your plans!” his hands flew to his hat and he snapped his eyes shut tightly, as though to block out everything. “Y-you guys just don’t get it! I didn’t get to finish; everything I was working for, planning for, gone. Left unfinished. In your history books, my mission was a failure!”

Aimee bit her lip meekly. “Ah, not to be insensitive or anything, but the Mexican revolution went on fine without you.” She said tentatively, “Villa had plenty of other gun runners working for him.”

But Trip had turned away toward the window again, withdrawn back into his mind with his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t just a gun runner.” He said mutely. He sighed “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Aimee wasn’t sure what to say.

His shoulders were slumped and he stood in stillness. “I’ll get going with Warpy,” he said. “He’ll be ready by the show.”

Aimee bit her lip and looked down at the ground with pitiful eyes. “A word of advice,” she said softly. “Get to know him better. He might just tell you how to help.” She moved toward the door. “Everyone needs someone to trust.”

Trip let out a breath as her boots sounded down the barn alley into silence. Through the dust motes and the dim sunshine, he could just barely make out Warpy’s shape in a far off pasture. His shoulders were heavy as though carrying a burden. “I guess we both just want to go home.” He whispered.

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GUESS WHO GOT A BAMBOO SPLASH FOR CHRISTMAS GUISE. That’s right, no more messy lines – well, no more messy lines caused by my tablet. Now, all messy lines are purely Spice-made.

Anyway, Aimee got enough interest on her last debut that she got some face time here. She fancies herself quite the advice-giver.

Sounds to me like character development, doesn’t it?


Now to get going on that collab pic and finish Assignment 6.


BTW, that shirt is SO based off of this year's HARPG Olympics uniform.


Background and refs off google. I also got a little help with Aimee’s face and hair from Burdge ^^
Image size
5834x5333px 1.47 MB
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Fontana-Roccia's avatar
teach me how to human ono
i can't draw them for shit