TFS Q&A Sesion (Patreon)

(Edit: Because this is closer to a short writing than a paragraph answer, I included both Beckett and Becca so you can select the one who fits with your Fernweh Gang! 🌲)

Question: "We know lots about the Fernweh gang through shared memories but not much about young B. Do they have any living family? Siblings? What were they like as a child?"

Answer:

Beckett

You try not to obviously wince when yet another dart embeds itself in the adjacent wall instead of the dartboard. Everyone in this dive bar is incredibly lucky that this lonesome, dark corner hosts the few bar games most of the customers are ignoring; it's saving both their lives and yours. Beckett is still peering at the board, searching for his grimy, orange feathered dart among the many rings, and you don't have the heart to point out it's not even on the board. Maybe he will mistake one of the yellow ones for one of his. Much like the rest of the bar, the darts have seen some wear.

“I think you're getting better.” One white lie isn't horrible in the scheme of things, especially when you know how Beckett gets when tipsy, emotional yet affectionate. “We should call it a night.”

“But I still have, like, four more, which means four questions—Actually, wait, you're supposed to be asking me one now.”

No, he has exactly two more darts held between the valleys of his knuckles like brass-tipped claws that are waving worriedly close to his face when Beckett makes a wide sweeping gesture. You step closer, gently taking his wrist. It works better than you anticipated because he instantly drops the darts to hold your hand, likely assuming that's what you wanted rather than saving him from poking an eye out. “Okay, okay, uhm”—Beckett lightly swinging your joined hands with a smile isn't helping you come up with a quick question for him—“do you dislike being an only child?”

The haphazard swinging motion comes to a slow stop, no longer building up an arc when Beckett looks down, squinting slightly to find the darts hiding among the shag carpet you're standing on. He isn't smiling anymore. It's then that you realize he's avoiding eye contact rather than clarifying his swimming vision because apparently frozen daiquiris aren't at all like smoothies.

You might have screwed up…

“I can pick another—”

“I wouldn't know if I am, for sure,” Beckett interjects with a weak shrug, barely lifting one shoulder. “I mean, adoption records are kinda spotty. It wasn't—kids can be mean. I hope I'm an only child.”

When Beckett does glance up again, you discern there's more to the shadows dappling across his face that have nothing to do with the secluded corner, but a past history even you don't entirely know.

Becca 

You try not to obviously wince when yet another dart embeds itself in the adjacent wall instead of the dartboard. Everyone in this dive bar is incredibly lucky that this lonesome, dark corner hosts the few bar games most of the customers are ignoring; it's saving both their lives and yours. Becca is still peering at the board, searching for her grimy, orange feathered dart among the many rings, and you don't have the heart to point out it's not even on the board. Maybe she will mistake one of the yellow ones for one of hers. Much like the rest of the bar, the darts have seen some wear.

“I think you're getting better.” One white lie isn't horrible in the scheme of things, especially when you know how Becca gets when tipsy, emotional yet affectionate. “We should call it a night.”

“But I still have, like, four more, which means four questions—Actually, wait, you're supposed to be asking me one now.”

No, she has exactly two more darts held between the valleys of her knuckles like brass-tipped claws that are waving worriedly close to her face when Becca makes a wide sweeping gesture. You step closer, gently taking her wrist. It works better than you anticipated because she instantly drops the darts to hold your hand, likely assuming that's what you wanted rather than saving her from poking an eye out. “Okay, okay, uhm”—Becca lightly swinging your joined hands with a smile isn't helping you come up with a quick question for her—“do you dislike being an only child?”

The haphazard swinging motion comes to a slow stop, no longer building up an arc when Becca looks down, squinting slightly to find the darts hiding among the shag carpet you're standing on. She isn't smiling anymore. It's then that you realize she's avoiding eye contact rather than clarifying her swimming vision because apparently frozen daiquiris aren't at all like smoothies.

You might have screwed up…

“I can pick another—”

“I wouldn't know if I am, for sure,” Becca interjects with a weak shrug, barely lifting one shoulder. “I mean, adoption records are kinda spotty. It wasn't—kids can be mean. I hope I'm an only child.”

When Becca does glance up again, you discern there's more to the shadows dappling across her face that have nothing to do with the secluded corner, but a past history even you don't entirely know.

_ _ _

So, these are all brilliant questions for B! I mention this in one other answer for this month, but it bears repeating: you all will be getting a glimpse into B's past in upcoming alpha content. :D

I won't tease more because of that! 🧡 (I typed that and then added another paragraph.)

Some of B's mannerisms and tendencies to be more aware of a space rather than simply exist within it do come from their years spent in the foster system. Their trademark of raising their hand to be called on along with how they can be deferential (e.g., with the Detective) might also link to how they were raised. You'll learn about B's grandmother whom they feel ‘found' them, possibly even ‘saved' them, etc. We will get into that aspect more, but this could also be why they care so deeply for the MC and value their friendship, especially on the bestie/romance pathways.

The MC can offer a touchstone of familiarity, which is something B's craved since they were younger. 🥺