@deathclawjunkie
“---Are you accusing me of something?”
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@deathclawjunkie
“---Are you accusing me of something?”
❛ brotherhood, huh? ❜ he questioned with a small grin, head lolling to the side. he had never really considered himself knowledgeable about the brotherhood, but he had heard about them from settlers, and other figures around the commonwealth. ❛ how’s it like working under that.. maxson fella? that’s his name, right? i’ve heard mixed emotions about him. never could form my own opinion, not knowing much ‘bout him. ❜ // starter call & @deathclawjunkie
@deathclawjunkie
Okay, maybe picking a fight with the zombie looking dude hadn’t been his greatest decision yet. Not that he’d just gone up and insulted the guy, but it didn’t seem like being rude or plite would have made any difference in the end result. Now there were several of these crazy things chasing his ass through the barren wastelands into what appeared to be an abandoned, almost entirely demolished town.
A groan of dismay breaks past his lips as he continues his dead sprint, ignoring the aches in his calves and the burning in his lungs in favor of continued motion. Cobalt eyes search for an escape of some sort and he finds it- keen eyes landing on a mostly intact building with the door ajar. He doesn’t make any noise of relief but makes a beeline for the door. It doesn’t take him long to wrench the door open and slam it shut behind him, uncaring for the noise it makes as he searches for something- anything to block it off with.
He finds an old, beat up looking dresser and makes haste to use that against the door, draging it across the floor with a grunt. Unlike a certain someone, his ears aren’t nearly sharp enough to detect another presence when feral ghouls start pounding and scratching at the door in front of him.
@deathclawjunkie liked for a starter
Paladin Danse was always the picture of health. His medical exams were always stellar, and he rarely had any complaints. Which was why it was incredible startling and strange for him to have collapsed mid-conversation with a scribe, blood dripping from his nose and his mouth hanging open in shock.
A quick scan later revealed that, shockingly enough, something was in his head. Once he’d recovered, the next few weeks involved relentless interrogation. Rumors spread like wildfire, some claiming he was a synth and some claiming the Institute had planted a chip of some sort in his mind.
All trust for him had gone out the window. People were convinced he was lying, so the interrogations continued.
@deathclawjunkie
‘is it… abnormal for people to be nice to you?’ is a genuine question, brows knit in confusion and her head tilts lazily to the side. she hadn’t known sarah for long, but so far she had little to absolutely no reason not to be nice to her. it was true that georgia was a sweet girl who gave too many chances regardless, but a part of her already looked up to her from when her name was first mentioned. she was kinder than the scribe was expecting, smaller, too, not that it mattered, ‘for what it’s worth i think you’re lovely,’
“NOT...ABNORMAL...Just not expected.”
She shrugged in response, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. Even when they first encountered one-another, she treated her with the kindness of a long-time friend. When she found out her identity, she vowed to keep it to herself.
Anyone else in the wastes would have either ATTEMPTED to shoot her dead, or RAT her out The Brotherhood.
“I’m not complaining, I’m quite grateful. More than that actually. I was mostly curious is all.”
@deathclawjunkie || starter call
❝ SO, i’m not the only pre-war relic around here. that’s great. where are you from ? boston or someplace else ? ❞
“i heard one of the knights say the most darling thing --- they referred to you as the elder’s scribe.” // @deathclawjunkie
‘ ifyousucksaywhat - ‘ / @deathclawjunkie