the ghoul used to worry that his daughter might scream when next they laid eyes on each other. one of those late night thoughts from the start of his wastelanding, when vials were low and his chest hurt from wheezing and it was just the stars and his loathing to keep himself company. hardly an irrational inclination ; two centuries in this world have allowed nothing for her to recognize him by. taken the kindness out of cooper howard like a vulture stripping a brahmin carcass, and stolen their resemblance beside. ( and hadn’t that just been the worst part? the rare occasions he could stomach a glance at himself and finding nothing in common with memories of janey ). what’d been left in his place is a cruel, shambling thing, sun - leathered and bullet - pocked from those who had gone down against him fighting. surely, she’d take one look at this creature who wears the clothes her father lost her in and scream. and yet, she hadn’t. it might be worse that she hadn’t.
⍟ ↠ @nukasun asked : ‘i’m so sorry. this is all my fault.’
“ your fault? ” he speaks without the guise of performance, accent felled from his words as he cradles daughter’s features between his palms. what has been said to her, what has she seen, that his little girl might burden herself with the death of the world? he does not bring question to fruition, merely adjusts to hold her the same as he had when she was a child : one hand cupping the rear of her head underneath her curls, pressing her into the ruined space between neck and shoulder while the other works over her back, as though this all were a bad dream he could still soothe them both awake from. “ honey, listen to me : you didn’t cause any of this. and i was never, ever going to stop ‘til i found you and your mother, y’hear? if i had to do it all again, i would – every single time. ”
