A Good Neighbor
@anotherisodope
Brian had been walking the wastes for a while since his initial escape. He didnât know how long, exactly; he could keep track of days well enough, but things like weeks and years typically werenât important enough for him to bother doing so. Even so, he knew it had been a long time since heâd gained his freedom. His former captors still hadnât found him, and heâd managed not to get himself killed in the meantime. He had food more often than not, and drinkable water was easy to find if you were immune to radiation. In some ways, he had an easier life than most in post-apocalyptia.
And yet, he was discontent. The one thing that hadnât changed over his long journey was the very fact that he had to continue wandering. Staying in one place for too long caused people to wonder what he was hiding beneath his robes, and if he stayed long enough for them to find out...well, things got real bad real fast. He was just too hideous, too scary. Every time someone learned what he looked like, they turned on him.
Brian was not a wanderer because he wanted to be. Brian was a wanderer because he had yet to find a place where he could settle down without scaring anyone. He wandered because it was the only way he could live as peacefully as the wasteland allowed. It didnât matter how lonely it was, or how long it made every road seem; picking up and moving on was the only way he had to keep people from getting hurt. And so he wandered, travelling everywhere and going nowhere.
Until one day, he heard of it. Goodneighbor. A place for the drifters with no where to go. A small town with a lot of different folks. A place that accepted all kinds, regardless of background or race. They said Goodneighbor accepted anyone who would accept anyone. It was a place for those with nowhere else to go. For most, it was just one more place on the map, just one more little town in a wide wild world.
For Brian, it was near-mythical. It was his last, best hope to find a home. If he could make it there, he could finally truly rest. He could live with a sense of security and companionship heâd never known before. And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, he could simply...relax one day. Maybe in Goodneighbor, the day would come where the robe could be a thing of the past. Maybe, eventually, he wouldnât have to spend his life ashamed of what he was.
He very pointedly did not think about what he would do if he wasnât accepted. Even if it was stupid, he still wanted to dream.
So it was that Brian made his way to the Commonwealth. Goodneighbor was easy enough to find once you made it to the city ruins; people would point you in the right direction after asking if you were sure you wanted to go there, and after that you just had to look for the sign. Brian lumbered up to the door, checked one last time to make sure his robe was still hiding all of his deathclawness, and then carefully squeezed his way through to the other side.
