#t: present

[betterhealing]

@tsurugixbuster;    continued from here.

Following the lure of a distress beacon had been a fool’s run under the best of circumstances, but at the very least it seemed the both of them were here in the same proverbial boat. And Arcade, with all his moral ground and compass, could not have turned away from it anyway... because there had always been the chance there had been good people behind it who had needed help.

Unlikely of course, given the hostile state of the wasteland itself but..

Instead the good Follower had found himself in hot water - and with a wounded stranger to boot. The raiders were bearing down on the two of them, and it had been all he could do to provide a quick patch job to what injuries he could see on the other guy - he would probably need more than that, however he seemed rather hellbent on vengeance. Not that he could blame him.

“Ah yes, run off and allow you to get torn to pieces? Pretty sure that’ll make me an asshole as well, you know.” Maybe his own sense of self-preservation had decided to skip town, but Arcade hadn’t exactly planned to start abandoning people today, even at the chance to save his own life. “I’m Arcade, by the way.” His tone was wry, perhaps even pinched a little bit, as he loaded his last cells into his plasma defender - it would be slower than the rifle the other man carried, and have less range, though that seemed to matter little as their foes made their way closer.

Their position wasn’t the most defended - there was a bit of a rise in the way, enough to provide some natural cover, and it was that he took... raising his own gun and opening fire at those raiders that came in from their immediate right, nailing one in the leg and causing a shocked wail from them, enough to send the couple with them skittering back a bit to try to get out of range... and right into what might be easy sight of his unlikely and unexpected companion.

[attrociteas]

@flosiovis [continued from here]

‘I dreamt about you last night. You wouldn’t boil me alive, would you?’

It’s a silly text to send out, but he just needs confirmation…

‘We were sitting in a giant tea cup in hell, having a chat. I think it was just lemon and cinnamon and maybe honey. But you hopped out and stoked the fire!’

This is a normal conversation between peers, right? Antonio wonders if he should have even sent the text while peering into… the tea he prepared… with the hopes of falling back asleep. Lemon, cinnamon. No honey.

‘I guess it wasn’t as bad when we were in there together because at least we would both be boiling together, but boiling alone is no fun’

Arthur, too, is sipping his tea in bed when the text comes through. Mint, with half a teaspoon of honey. What a strange thing to share before bed, Arthur thinks as he reads the text. Arthur glances back at his cup of tea, then puts it on the nightstand. 

‘You know that I make no promises. However, I doubt I would waste a perfectly good cup of tea on such a task.’ 

He has to think about this for another minute. What is the significance of such a dream?

‘At any rate, I suppose you are not the worst companion one could have in hell. Not sure I would boil you alive there. At the same time, that it was me who stoked the fire makes it seem as if your subconscious perceives me as the devil in your scenario. Or is that simply your concept of hell? An arena in which everyone tortures one another?’

Without stoking the fire, sitting around in a gigantic cup of tea talking with someone else did not seem the worst version of an afterlife. Arthur himself could think of 10,000 other less pleasant scenarios. 

[psychotheory]

@yourexecutioner:     continued from here.

The threat of the gun did not elude the man, but he did not respond to it’s presence in any way. It wasn’t worth reacting to yet. If the man brought the gun up to make it a true threat he’d worry about it then, but already he was contemplating how to handle it. “It’s her business if there’s a spy in her city I think, especially for the Legion. They may be on their last legs, but they are still a threat.” He pointed out calmly. “I assume she would want to know if you pose a risk to her.”

And of course, it was probably suspicious too that he was able to pick up on his affiliation so easily, telling in and of itself there if Hal chose to see it.

It was there, it could be used, but for the moment it wasn’t an option considered. Hal wasn’t exactly the sort of man who went around shooting people without being seriously provoked... and while he wasn’t exactly the most thrilled right now, he definitely hadn’t reached that stage yet. “As I said... ain’t really any of her business. Haven’t done a damn thing against her or her own people.” And that... that wasn’t a lie there. His ire was towards the NCR - the only information he’d ever passed off had been pertaining to the NCR.

Either way the Cajun scowled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the railing a little bit. “Besides, I’m guessin’ y’re one to talk here.” Definitely something about pots and kettles.

[novacguardian]

@deathclawbowling     continued from here.

“You know when you say stuff like that out of context, you better be thankful you’re talking to me. People might start to think you’re crazy or something.” Dalton laughed to her brother. “Have you thought of how you’re going to propose yet?”

“Naw man, I’m definitely going to marry a literal potato.” Manny couldn’t help but to deadpan before his cheek dissolved into an altogether absolutely bemused laugh. “Not a damn clue. It’s somethin’ I’ll have to be careful about, I know.” Boone was... healing, but probably definitely not healed from past trauma yet.

[jiayxng-blog]

Rumors and half-truths || Gage & Jiaying

Jiaying travelled to Southwind Fortress every once in a while. It was not too far from Grimsby - and even if it was, she still would have ventured there now and then, as it was known for being a city of trade. In her work, it was all about finding the right people. People to trick, and people to trust, and people who could pay. As it happened, Southwind Fortress was such a city with people like this, and many of them too. Over the years, she had found a particularly willing merchant who filled these categories, all three of them at once. It was easy to make him believe her things were better than they were, he valued their business relationship enough to keep quiet, and he payed large sums of money for the items she showed him. Needless to say, a trip to the Fortress proved to be more fruitful than simply trying to tell her items to a local in Grimsby. 

Of course, trade was only part of the reason she went, though it was the only one she would speak of out loud. It was refreshing to get out of her small hometown every once in a while, and found a certain freedom in leaving it for a couple of days. However, she had too much responsibility to be away from it for too long, especially as she had taken over the Emerald Hand only recently. Still, she did not mind the time off, even if it would only last for a couple of days or so. 

With her freedom of being in another city, she did what she so very often tended to do regardless of location; as the sun set on the sky, she made her way towards the local tavern. It was not that she drank often - she much preferred to keep her head clear and her tongue sharp, and particularly when the people around her lost these senses and abilities to the alcohol - but she did like the taste of ale. Besides, today had been particuarly successful, and a successful trade was not complete without some sort of celebration, now was it?

“Good evening,” she greeted the bartender as she leaned to the counter of the tavern. As she reached down to her pocket to fish up some coins, she eyed the woman behind the bar. Black hair and pale skin. Short cut and eyes lined. Perhaps many people would fit that very description, but few of them were the bartender of a tavern in Southwind Fortress. As it happened, Jiaying had heard a rumor or two about the woman, and ones she found somewhat interesting. Granted, she heard a lot of rumors, having eyes and ears almsot everywhere, paired with being very tentative about such things herself. Rumors may be rumors, but some had a bit of truth in them. With that, she only offered the woman a knowing smirk and put the coins upon the counter.

“I’ll have some ale, thank you.”

@gage-of-athoria

[annikaxkeeley-blog]

Four Walls and a Roof || Derek & Annika

It felt as though silence had extended it’s grasp and had choked the very life out of Crescent Grove. Coins rolled across a table, feet dragged across a floor, every breath of sound forced into the lungs of the inn by the owner was engulfed by the deafening quietude. Annika had long resigned herself to the lifelessness of the town, seated on the porch of the Inn, abysmally silent as she awaited the arrival of dawn. There was something almost purifying about the quiet - a recollection of her inception into the world. Everything was born into darkness and silence, and it felt as though it was a return to simplicity, a return to a time before she had been tainted by the world.

The prior days had been full of cacophony - pollution of the real world and the figments of her own conscious leaving her mind clouded. The coronation ceremony had brought a sense of frenzied excitement in the town (even her father had begrudgingly participated in the festivities). And with it, came an intrusion of her mind with thoughts that weren't her own - hushed snippets of phrases that were incomprehensible - and flashes of colour that burst into her vision with each person she saw, vibrant shades bleeding into muted tones.

It had been in these moments that Annika had longed for the presence of her sire. The ancient texts and her own intuition served her in comprehending her transition, but she had always felt left with a sense of desperation in Derek's absence (a part of her knew that the ache she felt for his presence was not simply one of mind, but one of soul). She needed him, to remind her that the immortal body she now called her own would one day fit her, that she would outgrow her savagery. Her nails still tainted red under the feeble light of the moon after an unprovoked attack on a chicken coop, it had become harder and harder to distinguish between which actions were those of her own volition and which were the urges of an uncontrollable beast that stirred within her.

It wasn't the only reason she yearned for his presence. With the town deserted by all of the residents, Annika had walked amongst the skeleton of Crescent Grove and had struggled to recall what kept her from leaving. The Inn, naturally, had forced her to ground herself. But the permanency of her residence in the grove couldn't be attributed to the Inn in itself - four walls and roof weren't what made a home. Nor did she remain to listen to her father's drunken tirades and her mother's shallow breaths (she often times forgot that her organs had failed - for she could swear her heart dropped in her chest at the sight of her mother). Annika remained because she had to wait for him, because she only found her homecoming in his own.

A change in the wind, the disturbance of dirt in the distance, met with an unrestrained chuckle from the woman as she finally escaped the chokehold of silence. The figure in the distance - a shadow that she had become all to familiar with - always seemed to arrive the minute she thought of them. She moved to meet her sire, still ignorant to her newfound speed, crashing into him. Her limbs tangled as she grasped him, she chuckled once more, almost breathless from the collision.

"I thought you'd still be enjoying the festivities at the castle - " Questions bubbled upon her lips but she silenced herself, there would be time for questioning, surely. " - Welcome home".

[betterhealing]

@back-from-the-abyss;     continued from here.

Just the right place at the right time, for once. That didn’t exactly happen exceptionally often.

“I don’t think anyone was exactly predicting it to be quite this bad today.” Arcade quirked a brow before he glanced up in the direction of the sky from under that large, colorful umbrella, noting that the clouds were only growing further darker. How – unpleasant, wasn’t it? Really he didn’t mind the rain at all that much, but a storm might very well prove a problem given the risks involved with it. Honestly, he preferred to avoid getting utterly soaked by torrential downpour himself… and it was definitely a walk back to his own place from here.

He’d glanced back towards the half-devil just in time to catch that brief smile on his face, and there was a genuine one in return towards him – there and gone, almost as swift. Still… he’d take those positive signs, brief or otherwise, from the hunter where they stood and when they happened. “Where are you headed off to? If it’s close I don’t mind walking with you there.” If Vergil didn’t mind the company for however long that might take, of course.

It was the least that he could do, right?

[betterhealing]

“Hey, brain damage is like chickenpox, right? I got it once, so I can’t get it again?”

@cowardlycourier

Arcade was certainly startled by the abruptness of such a question, one that seemed to have come right on out of proverbial left field, but given the circumstances he could certainly see it as one that may very well also prove to be personal to the young courier. For a moment he frowned, debating back and forth internally with himself as to just how he should answer it – after all, brutally honest was probably meaner than it needed to be.

That said – didn’t she still deserve the truth?

“Unfortunately no – that isn’t the case at all.” He shook his head; that would certainly make the Followers’ work all that much easier if it was, wouldn’t it? “In fact even if the perceived damage is seemingly healed the one afflicted – formerly or otherwise – will always need to take as much care as they are able to in order to avoid it happening again.”