Boothill couldn't have imagined that his life would be like this, a few weeks ago he found an abandoned baby buried in the cold, harsh snow—crying her eyes out with no one to hold onto, to receive love from.

It was unacceptable in his eyes, and so he had made the decision to take you with him, now residing in his farmhouse in the plains. It was the best decision he had made.

A decision that turned his life for the better Boothill thinks to himself as he watches you gently slap the strings on the tiny wooden guitar, your movements slightly hesitant but filled with the curiosity to learn. You were only a little toddler who's curious about the world around you.

"That's not how you play the guitar darlin'." Boothill drawled out with his signature thick southern accent, his loud but proud laugh echoing through the crisp air out in the plains he called his home, Aeragan-Epharshel.

He chuckled at your attempts to play. He knelt in front of you and patted your head, silently reassuring and reinforcing you to keep on going with your curious antics.

He watched you with a soft and loving gaze, his thoughts centered on how cute and endearing you were. No matter what you did, you will always be his little girl. His little girl that he will protect with his very life.

"Here, sweetpea." He offered, gently taking the guitar from your chubby hands, his cold mechanical fingers heavily contrasted with your natural warmth of your chubby fingers. "Let me show ya how it's done."