[ at this pit stop, the market buzzes, a whir of transactions and chatter. not all of it sounds friendly, mind, given the frequent shouts soaring over the baseline noise.

leaning curiously over a native food stall, a woman stands dressed for an age long since past, bandanna darkened and loose on her neck, revolver clipped conspicuously at her side. she might blend in with the crowd, as innocuous as she is. just a girl, despite the western tinge, all easy curls and doe eyes. she laughs at something the merchant says and receives two neon confections (round and thin, like a cookie) as a reward. local delicacies, the man assures her.

as she turns around, she spots someone from the crew — her crew, now — and visibly brightens, a smile blooming on her face. when she speaks, her tone is warm, despite any lack of familiarity, lifted by southern hospitality. ]

Would you like one?

[ oftentimes, dolores wanders the halls of the ship. not lost, no, but certainly in search of something. today, her journey leads her somewhere unexpected — straight to you and the creature recovering from its entanglement with the bulkhead. oh dear, oh my.

automatically, she raises her arm and fires once, bullet connecting with the torso of the beast. no recoil. a second shot scrapes its neck. unmoving beyond her trigger finger, she fires again, landing a headshot.

the creature falls. dolores remains, expressionless except for the slight narrow of her eyes. ]

from: Abernathy
Hello!
My name is Dolores.
I have a question for everyone.
Do you prefer this world to your own?