#brutallyartistic

[waste-land-artist]

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing serious. Just had a run in with some raiders prowling around while coming home. I’m alright. I promise.” She tried to sooth the other artist. “Just minor things.”

@brutallyartistic

[waste-land-artist]

“It’s not safe, being with me.”

“Nothing is safe any more. That’s how it is. I’d rather be here with you, than “safe” and alone some where else.”

@brutallyartistic

[waste-land-artist]

“Don’t look at me like that; like you’re afraid of me.”

“I am though. Sometimes. Not that you’ll hurt me. I know you never will love. ...I just...I fear where your mind may end up one day.”

@brutallyartistic

[blackwiidowsniper]

@brutallyartistic

“So I’ve seen first hand,” Pickman responds easily, taking his eyes off the target - a lone raider, who had wandered out too far from his gang - to look at his companion. “But please, go on, I wouldn’t mind another demonstration of your skills.” He was in a good mood, as he tended to be during his and Victoria’s outings like this. He had grown so accustomed to being alone that he had forgotten how much he enjoyed other’s company. “As I said, it’ll be a difficult shot, with the bits of hanging cloths and scrap obscuring him when he moves, but I have no doubt you’ll make it look easy.”

Victoria flashed a smile at him that was just as confident as it was dangerous. “Keep saying sweet things like that and I might just blush.”

The almost playful atmosphere around her melted away when she turned her attention to the scope on her rifle. It had been a while since she’d hunted someone like this, but the familiarity of it had returned to her all too easily. She watched her target move, his image disappearing between old fabric and forgotten bits of junk, and the world seemed to melt away. She watched him stop and raise a hand to his mouth to call out, and Victoria released her breath.

The man dropped from her sight, blood spilling from the gaping wound in the side of his neck. She frowned, almost pouting. It wasn’t quite what she had been aiming for, but she supposed the end result was ultimately the same.

She pulled back from her scope, brushing the stray hairs from her braid back out of her face. A sigh escaped her, a content sound.

“You know,” she mused, “if he was looking for someone it's only right that we pick up where he left off. It would be a shame if his friend was left to wander alone in the wastes, don’t you think?”

[the-perfect-scientist]

Into the Gallery (closed w/brutallyartistic)

Coming into the old city had been a bad idea, Carlos decided, as he ran through the streets along the river. A pack of raiders had caught sight of him and were now after him like a pack of wolves after a rabbit who didn’t even have a god-damn gun!

He wondered about jumping over the wall and hiding out in the trash piled along the polluted banks of the river. But he was toting so much scrap that it would be too difficult, and if he were to just drop the bag they might be able to figure out where he went.

His legs were getting tired and had to stop sometime. Carlos saw a mailbox and an overturned picnicking table and he went for it. As soon as he sat down he regretted his choice, but it was too late – he could hear footsteps coming.

@brutallyartistic

[emmreth]

❛ we’re all afraid of something . ❜

@brutallyartistic

“By --- By that logic...you have something you’re a-afraid of.” she could not help but point out nervously. Although, it was admittedly hard for her to imagine the man fearing anything, considering the place she had stumbled upon him in. What did the ‘curator’ of such a blood-filled gallery have to fear?

[millitechleft]

@brutallyartistic from this

There’s the barest hint of an amused smile on his lips at her response, seeming completely at ease despite her rather obvious distrust of him. Maybe it was a little foolish on his part, but he didn’t think she would kill him, at least not without a really good reason. After all, if she was going to, wouldn’t she have when they first met in his gallery?

“Fair enough,” he replies, “but it’s expected from me, isn’t it? Just about everything I do is out of spite.” He chuckles and, before any questions can be asked, he continues, “Why’d you do that anyway?”

“How do you know that everything I do isn’t?” Laura wasted no time with the retort, arms crossed in a silent act of distance. Pickman, as far as she assumed, knew nothing about her- even if he went beyond murder to stalking, she didn’t actively advertise her motives nor her history. There was no way he could know. 

“It wasn’t spite, it was strategy. The gunners were getting too close to a settlement. They wouldn’t leave, so I killed them.” 

[millitechleft]

‘ That was such a spiteful thing to do. ’

Garbage ‘Strange Little Birds’ Lyrics || Accepting

“This, coming from the man who murders and paints with raider blood?” Laura scoffed, struggling not to roll her eyes- they needed to remain focused, glued to the man she couldn’t trust. Regardless of if he was justified in the murder of raiders, she still preferred attempts at negotiation before such drastic measures… “Might as well be the pot calling the kettle black.”