#deathclawmaestro

[deathclawmaestro]

{{I've been on a sort of hiatus while adjusting to the grave shift schedule at work, but now I think it's been long enough for me to get settled. I've been doing a lot of drabble writing in the meanwhile, so I do plan on posting more drabbles regarding Lexington as well as a couple of open starters. I'll space them out so I don't spam anyone's dash. ^u^}}

[deathclawmaestro]

“Dying takes too long, so I’ll pass.”

Lexington slammed the baseball bat into the raider’s jaw and the crack of it echoed against the stone slabs of the Dunwich quarry. Red splattered against the white, the stark and vibrant contrast mixing into a vivid cocktail for the senses with a metallic garnish of iron. The bold colors and memories rose up sent a shiver down his spine, but Lexington had to frown as he turned his gaze down towards the entrance to the mine, shaking the blood from his bat as he did so. It wasn’t the expectation of more raiders that concerned him. It was that damn robot.

He and Bootshine had tracked the suspicious robot to this location hours ago. Lexington didn’t know how, but the damned mechanoid had managed to slip past the new batch of raiders that had decided to make this place their base, leaving Lex to clear them out. Bootshine had chosen to stay clear of Dunwich Borers, just like the last time they’d stumbled upon this place; the Deathclaw’s reluctance to even approach the area didn’t inspire a sense of comfort. Nor did the memories of encountering feral ghouls, or the ominous shiver of deja vu sliding slowly up his spine. But there was only one way in or out, so at the very least is he knew the robot was trapped down there.

Three steps into the mine Lexington stopped, stood in place, and listened. The silence was a nauseating yellow, the kind that was slightly desaturated and tinged with a hint of feral green. A little ways further in there was a path that led to a lift but straight on ahead into the darkness of the mines, the silence and shadows seemed to breathe. Lexington did not want to go straight.

A sound, metal scraping against rock, came from the other path. Relieved, Lexington sauntered towards the branching path with his hands in his pockets, beginning to hum low, not even realizing as he did so. He slowly peeked his head around the corner, then stepped around as he spotted his target. The machine figure stood near the button to activate the lift; it almost seemed to tremble when Lexington rounded the corner. It jerked when he spoke.

“Y’know, I’ve been looking all over for you, sunshine.” Lexington almost purred in amusement as he studied the robot that had hounded him for some time. It clearly had heavy modifications done to it, as it looked like an amalgamation of various robot models. What Lex found most intriguing about it was the strange glass dome in the place of its head. Or, more accurately, he found the brain floating within the liquid of the jar most intriguing.

“I-I-I-I-I’m s-so-sorry.”

The next thing to catch Lexington’s attention was the robot’s golden yellow paint; it reminded him of his boss’s old saxaphone. Lex cocked an eyebrow and frowned at the strange thought, and the apology. and the voice crackling from the robot’s speakers. It was distorted, but...

But.

“I tried- I tri-tried to f-fo-forget like they to-told me to, bu-but I co-co-could-couldn’t. The wi-wipes di-did-didn’t wo-work like the-they said!”

The robot’s voice sounded staticky and still a bit distorted, but Lexington could swear he knew the singer blaring through those speakers. And yet, it couldn’t be possible. He was dead. They were all long since dead and buried.

“I tho-thought I-I-I was alo-a-alone!” The robot grasped one Protectron wrist with the other’s claw, as if it wringing its hands. “Bu-But then I, I s-saw you. I... I tho-tho-thought ev-eve-everyone was d-d-d-dea-dead...”

Lexington took a step back, then another. He didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until he nearly swooned. When he noticed he took a big gasping breath, causing the automatron to twitch again. Lex’s hand rose haltingly, shaking in the air like the last leaf of autumn, extending towards the robot.

“...Sonny...?”

[deathclawmaestro]

"I could kill you!"

“You *could* have killed me,” Lexington corrected as he put a bullet between the man’s eyes. The settler had wanted to capture Lexington to make an exchange with raiders for his daughter; they had captured her two days ago, for the slave trade, and the man had felt he had no other choice than to find a healthy replacement to trade. He had chosen the lone stranger who came up to his farm to barter for some food. It was his last mistake.

Lexington would have felt some sympathy for the man had he not tried to kill Lex. Hell, he would have gladly helped the settler get his daughter back for a few caps, if only the haggard fool hadn’t asked for helped with a flurry of bullets. Lexington would have probably enjoyed it too, since raiders were steadily making their way up the Lexington’s list of Shittiest People in the Wasteland. Now the farmer fool was dead, and his daughter was doomed to a life of slavery. Oh well.

A snarl from behind caused Lexington to turn as he lit a fresh cigarette. Bootshine stood by the fence at the edge of the settlement, and the Deathclaw was gazing off to the west. Lexington took a few steps forward as he followed the creatures gaze, then spotted a strange figure in the distance. They looked humanoid, but stiff; from his guess, it was probably a robot of some kind. It didn’t look like a normal Assaultron or Protectron, though. It looked heavily... modified? Lex had good eyes, but even he couldn’t quite tell from this distance.

It didn’t matter, because after a few moments the figure turned around and began to leave. It jerkily disappeared behind an outcropping of rocks; there was a sudden flash of what looked like lightning, and then there was nothing. Lexington reached the fence line next to Bootshine and leaned against it; he and the Deathclaw looked at each other, then back at the outcropping where the figure had disappeared.

“Well, that was... something. Wasn’t it, ol’ boy?”

The Deathclaw snarled, then began to prowl around the perimeter of the now empty settlement. Lexington shrugged and went to scavenge for parts, letting the odd encounter slip from his mind.

[deathclawmaestro]

Snapshot: Robco Interlude

Preview: "It wasn't as if he planned on falling for her. He had told himself before that he couldn't make the same mistake of forming attachments. He hadn't planned onnseeing her tears, though, or her smile."

[deathclawmaestro]

{{I am very sorry for the delays in responding to posts. Work has been both draining and overwhelming, and I have literally been spending my days either trying to get some sleep or going to work. It isn’t fun, and I’ve had no time for much else. I apologize again, and I will try my best to respond to posts as soon as I am able to find time. Thank you all for being so patient with me.}}

[deathclawmaestro]

{{Been on grave shift for the past few nights and my schedule has been sort of wrecked because of it, ahahaha. I will be finished by this weekend (hopefully), but I apologize to anyone waiting for replies. I will get to them as soon as I am able.}}

[deathclawmaestro]

{{Work’s been super busy, and will probably be busy until... the end of March? I apologize for any missed or super slow replies because of my IRL madness.I am free tonight and tomorrow, so expect at the very least a drabble or two. If anyone would like to rp as well or set up an thread, message me. I’ll be here.}}

[deathclawmaestro]

Piano Solo

"Basic facts about piano backs: 'a super or extended compass as seven and a quarter octaves, or simply put, 88 notes'. The 88 notes are made up of an average of 220 strings; the average string tension is about 170 lbs per string (with an increase of 15% in the bass) between the top and the center of the compass." Sonny spoke to Lexington from the echoes of the past, reciting in memories what he had often read aloud from his tattered old manual while forcing Lex to work on the club piano way back when. Sonny had a rather large, eclectic collection of repair manuals and crafting books for all sorts of instruments because he had wanted to craft his own line of instruments, before opening his club. Lex never found out why his former boss and close friend had given up on his previous dream, but Sonny had seemed happy enough running the club and using the band for his building side projects. Lexington had grumbled along with all of the rest, back then, but now he smiled wistfully as he worked on this project of his own making. "The string lengths in octaves is increased in the ratio of 17:9 for each descending octave; wire gauges increase by a half every six notes, down to the tenor area and more frequently there after. Particular consideration is made for string lengths to increase all the string lengths at a ratio of 17:9 especially in the bass it would be very impractical so the diameters of the bass strings are increased with nearly every note in the bass..." It had taken a good few months to scavenge materials decent enough to make the piano wires and the sound board. No average wire could do; Sonny had stressed the importance of a sturdy wire core and quality copper for the layering. Concord, upon seeing all that Lexington had hoarded, seemed impressed and mildly perturbed by the intended use of the precious materials. He didn't say a word, though, merely lit a cigar and went to work elsewhere, completing a project of his own. He never complained about what Lexington did, or his behavior. Concord always appeared to understand what Lex needed better than Lex himself. He was more familiar with grieving, one supposed. And that was what Lexington was doing, really. Grieving. Building up memorials, altars to all those dead but not forgotten. After Anchorage, there had been a counselor who spoke to him about survivor's guilt. His emotions then were mild compared to now. Sonny. Dolly. Specs. Kitty. Noire. Marco. Havana. Blaire. Tom. The Good Sir. Cedric. V. Mikey. Clyde. Glenda. They had been friends. They had been family. They had all traveled together to Vegas and had marveled at the bright neon lights of Sin City. They had hopped a freight car and gone across the us until they had ended up in California, and had played for money on the beach like bohemians when Mikey and Clyde had lost their funds. They had all attended Glenda's wedding to some mook who wasn't good enough to kiss her shoes, and they all knew the ups and downs and dramas and heartaches that went with Kitty's Beau of the Week. So many memories, so many strings, so many notes, so many songs stuck in the past. "Assembling the case work round the piano is really a cabinet making skill involving gluing, screwing, and doweling and the use of clamps and presses... But we can save that for another day, Maestro. Figure we'd be better off playing ones of these days, right? I can see you getting twitchy doing all this grunt work, don't think I don't see it!" Lexington lightly tapped a piano hammer against one of the few anchored strings and hummed. "You know me, Sonny. The only work worth doing has a beat to it."