#synthvictoriam

[preventifmedecin]

As timid or, more accurately, uncertain as the Miss-Nanny-turned-synth could be, she was surprisingly forward as she approached Danse. 

“I ‘ave a question for you,” She began, looking up at the Brotherhood of Steel paladin. “You know Monsieur Nate has asked me to accompany the two of you as well, oui? And I ‘eard you two are going to visit a Brotherhood controlled settlement. I need to know: are you going to sell me out as a synth or non?” 

@synthvictoriam​

[o-rusted-heart]

@synthvictoriam.

He’d seen the former paladin around Sanctuary, but it was clear avoidance on either side. Still, Nick couldn’t help his curiosity, or his friendly streak. Next time Danse passed by where he sat on a lawn table, Nick pushed the other chair out with his foot.

“You need a breather, Danse? Maybe you got a minute.” 

[pneumatiicgauntlet]

Continued from here with @synthvictoriam

“That’s exactly how that works.” he threw aside the dead ghoul he’d finished off, glancing around for any more before turning to the bite one had landed on his arm. “Guns work a little better on ghouls than brute force. You’re not going to do much.”

"So is the unnecessary bravado a paladin thing or a guy thing because I need to know how to tackle this nonsense exactly." Veronica would have rolled her eyes if the situation hadn't been so serious; for now, biting sarcasm would have to do.

"Yeah, your guns worked super well, that's why you need a patch job." Veronica grimaced at the bite, "Lucky for you, Big Guy, I have some Radaway on hand. I'm no doc, but I can do that much."

She glanced around as well, she'd need to make this quick in case any ferals were still around and decided they wanted to play too. For the moment it looked clear, so the ex-scribe slung her pack off of her shoulders and dug around for the Radaway, and a bit of gauze. A mediocre patch job was better than nothing.

"You're just saying my weapon of choice is useless because you're jealous you can't knock a ghoul's head off and send it flying a whole fourty feet like I can."

[cheatdeathsarchive]

@synthvictoriam​    /    sc.

There are some universal truths out in the world. One of them is that when a catchy song comes on, Courier Six must dance. So she does as she fixes herself something quick to eat before getting started on whatever the settlement of Sanctuary needs. She doesn’t realize she has company until she spins around and catches Paladin Danse in the door frame that she stops.

Well... she doesn’t stop, not really, but now it’s just a little bob of her head and a shimmy of her hips.

“How long have you been standin’ there?" Six laughs -- it must have been some kind of sight to walk in on, “Never mind -- what’s goin’ on, sir? Does Sturges need my help with somethin’?”

[preventifmedecin]

"How are you going to stop me from getting a raccoon? You cannot veto every pet in the Commonwealth."

@synthvictoriam

[preventifmedecin]

Jamaica plain was a disaster. Curie had spent much too long looking for a treasure that only supposedly existed. She'd been bound and determined to find it, both to help preserve it before raiders could get their hands on it, and to study it. It was a prewar treasure, something that helped show what was important to people at that moment in time. But now? Two weeks into this seemingly fruitless endeavor, even Curie and her consistent positive attitude had taken a mental and emotional beating. She was ready to throw in the towel, stop skirting around the town's edges to avoid the ghouls and raiders that stalked the area's buildings, and move onto something more scientific in nature.

She'd given this her best shot, hadn't she? At what point did this become a sunk cost fallacy? The synth gathered her supplies, with a good portion of them gone, used up in the weeks she'd spent here, it was just another sign to leave and recoup rations and even ammo.

The scientist slung her pack over her shoulders, heading out of the home she'd been taking shelter in, freezing in the doorway at the sound of fighting. Perhaps...she could wait it out, there was no sense in her running headlong to her death when it was likely some raiders running into a pack of ferals. The synth shut the door, remaining in the building. The fighting lasted much longer than she'd expected, whatever they had been shooting at had put up one hell of a fight.

The synth waited a few minutes before heading out, hurrying along the shadows and sticking close to walls to avoid being seen. It was only when she came across a few blood splatters--obviously recent from the way they hadn't even coagulated yet--that her pace slowed. The woman looked around, careful to stay quiet up until she spotted someone--a man, and he definitely looked nothing like a raider.

Throwing caution to the wind the synth hurried over to him. "Oh my," Curie breathed, practically throwing off her pack to retrieve her medical supplies. "Are you still with me, Monsieur?" She questioned, voice soft as she looked over the damage.

@synthvictoriam

[o-rusted-heart]

nick valentine upon meeting somebody who is prickly and complicated:

son

[preventifmedecin]

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Time. Time was of the essence. Already the light was dying, buildings that nearly touched the sky helping blot out the last vestiges of sunlight. Curie needed to move, to find shelter, and she needed to find it now. Once night came, it was over, all over. She was a scientist, not a woman brimming with military skill. Though, the thought of nightfall had her pulling out her pistol, releasing the magazine into her palm, checking it was full, before slamming it back up into the pistol. She racked the pistol just enough to doublecheck a round was in the chamber before releasing it with a click.

According to her watch, and what she'd read, she had fourty minutes before she was done for. Fourty minutes to barricade a house, even a room--or find the lab she was seeking. Though that was lower on the list at this moment. Shelter first, creating a cure second. She couldn't undo her own mistakes if she didn't live to see tomorrow, after all. The scientist shifted her bag, relieving a spot that the straps were rubbing raw even through her clothing--there were too many abandoned cars congesting the highway here to allow her to travel by vehicular means.

Bits of glass from shattered vehicle windows crunched underfoot as she traversed deeper and deeper into the city. Nothing looked promising yet, no building shuttered enough to last against the Darkseekers--and if it was shuttered, that would mean she would have to clear the building of possible threats before using it. She needed to pick something and stick to it.

Instead, she paused as she came to a clearing. One vehicle sat in the middle of it, full of supplies and what looked like a repurposed lightbar sat atop the hood. It was in too good of shape to have been abandoned long--if it was abandoned at all. No. Best not to get her hopes up. She drew closer to the vehicle, unholstering her pistol in case there was some sort of threat within the car.

What was this? Some sort of trap? Curie glanced around, freezing when she caught sight of a dog. Instead of calling out to it she hurriedly moved out of sight, bewildered at the sight of an animal able to withstand the last few rays of sunlight.

A mutation? Were they becoming resistant to the sun's UV rays? Was it an uninfected dog? There was no way, not in the midst of ground zero, with no humans around to take care of it.

Curie snuck a peek around the barricade she was hiding behind, trying to study the dog she'd spotted.

@synthvictoriam