a good 30, 60 years after the last-written Doomsday story as of now.
Cya leaned over a list of names with her youngest school-aged descendant. He’d brought the list home home from his first year at Addergoole, every classmate in his year and the two years above him.
She let her finger pause over three names. “These three are not related to you at all, even remotely. And this one is also not related to any of the Boom brood. These two are pretty far distant, but sticking to the ones that aren’t descended from Boom is better.”
Her (great-great-so-many-greats)-grandson glanced over at her. “Why?”
“Oh,” Red Doomsday smiled, “I’m working on a thing. It might not help you, but it’ll help your kids.”
Her grandson – one of Yoshi’s line, with a disturbing resemblance to Yoshi’s father – smiled cautiously. “I trust you. So, these three?”
Trust. Cya did another Find on the list. “This one’s the best. The safest.”
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