Why Would a Star Ever Be Afraid of the Dark?

The Life and Times of the Invincible Stella River. Daughter of Sayai and Nate River. Previous Resident of Vault 76. Genius, Sneak, and New Appalachia Resident.

[mothman-pseudanthium]

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Wasteland, Baby! by Hozier except you’ve set up camp in the desert outside a nearby city that currently seems to be collapsing.  It’s terrifying, and you don’t know what’s going to happen next, but the song is comforting, and it makes you feel strangely warm and loved, if only for a moment.

Requested by anonymous.

[tackled]

[aishwaryaaraiii]

leila khashagulgova

[frolicingintheforest]

[ghostlywriterr]

[wild-cabins]

Tranquility.

Stefan Schwittek

[cerceos-deactivated20160308]

William James Broadhurst

[achills-deactivated20160908]

[godswollen-deactivated20171014]

[re-poet]

おやすみプンプン

[theinvinciblestellariver]

I woke up to the foggy sounds of gunshots. Not exactly the alarm clock I was used to, but effective, all the same. 

Had to move quick, so I did. Those scorched sons of bitches were crawling all over the train yard - decisively more difficult to attack them when you’re alone and there’s four of them. I see now why that pretty stranger brought me along. 

Found a pub on my way out, skeletons seated around a table, frozen in time. I hope whatever they were eating was good (though, by looking at the happy hour menu, it’s doubtful). The kitchen was disappointingly empty, besides some sugar and spices. It would have been too much to hope that there would be actual food waiting for me. Though, I did find a shotgun and a handful of ammo behind the counter. Surprised no one else found it before me, what with the kitchen picked clean like it was. I’ll have to practice aiming with it later.  

Followed the road back towards the Overseer’s C.A.M.P. Had to abandon the road halfway there - protectrons and huge, lumbering mutant giants with far more weapons than me were using it, too. Quiet feet took me around and away, back past Slocum Joe’s and into the warm embrace of the Overseer’s little “slice of home”. (I am sorry she left it, but glad all at once). 

Unrelated: boiling water is an awful practice. You can feel the rads burning you every time you scoop up dirty water from the river. Still, it’s necessary. It’s easy to get so damn thirsty out here. The air is just so -dry-.

I’d kill for a water fountain or a humidifier. 

The road to the Flatwoods was dotted with a few mutated dogs and mole rats. Does every creature out here look like their skin has melted? How close was the nuke to us? Or did they migrate over here? I don’t like thinking about it. 

Regardless. The town was empty, other than some more of those burned ghouls (I’m already getting better with my machete). Overseer left another holotape, this one insisting that we find the “Responders”, a group of volunteers trying to help survivors of the Great War that were stationed there. It’s eerie that all that’s left are corpses and echoes of their lives on holotape. 

I sat and listened to each and every one twice. 

I think I liked Kesha the most. She had such a kind voice, with the sort of gravely tone that comes with just enough age and experience. Wisdom and warmth.

I brought her body inside the church with the others, draped a stained tarp over them. (I’ll give them all a proper burial when I have the Overseer with me). 

The training proved helpful - I gathered some recipes and plans, more weapons and ammo, some junk that I can scrap for materials. Also got one of those jumpsuits that pretty girl from yesterday was wearing. Maybe she was one of the original group (though, looking at the state of the corpses that are left, I find that unlikely). 

Volunteer access proved helpful in the terminal - looks like their main HQ was at the airport, which was getting overrun by enemies. After one more go-over of the area and I made my way back to her C.A.M.P. Boiled more water and worked on scraping my junk. I think I’ve almost got enough to make a small settlement of my own. 

I’ll give that a try tomorrow. For now, I’m going to see if I can make “Appalachilli” with canned dog food. Mother, if only you could see me now. 

--SHR

[theinvinciblestellariver]

[theinvinciblestellariver]

I woke up late.

Of course I did. 

It felt weird rushing through my shower, knowing that I may never have another chance to take one again. 

So, I didn’t. 

I washed my hair three times, used up the entire bottle of shampoo (except for the little bottle I was able to hide in my vault suit), lingered in the hot water until it turned cold, and only then did I turn the water off and make my way from my room. (They said we didn’t need to turn off the lights or lock doors, but I did anyways. Old habits, I guess). 

I realize that listing each occurrence of this day in detail would be annoying at best, so I’ll try not to drone on.

I snuck into the Overseer’s office on my way out. Can’t keep a cat out of somewhere they want to go. She left a holotape, encouraged whoever listened to come and find her. Figured others might want to help too, so I left it behind in her terminal and went on my way. 

The door rolled out of the way just how I thought it would. The light was more blinding than mother warned me it would be. Outside, the air burned my lungs, ignited a coughing fit, but nothing else. 

There were so many more trees than I thought there would be. There were many more corpses than I thought there would be, too. First one had a rusty pipe pistol and barely a handful of ammo. Next one had a machete. Figured that would be more helpful. 

Overseer left a C.A.M.P. near the river with supplies and some direction on a holotape, but I was distracted by a pretty girl in a jumpsuit that had a logo I didn’t recognize. I think she was mute - she didn’t speak a single word, even as she offered me quite a bit of ammo for guns I hope I can find. I felt bad not giving her something in return, so I offered her some Yum Yum’s and a stimpak. I think she liked that, ‘cause she encouraged me to follow her with vague pantomimes. I don’t know if she was a Dweller or not - she had a handkerchief over her face (I should probably get one of those). 

I followed, and she showed me a table inside of a boarded up Slocum Joe’s where I could tinker. She waited for me to gather up a few of the supplies in there before leading me on. She kept looking behind her, as if I was going to disappear on her. (I wonder now if maybe that had happened to her before). 

Suddenly, we were in a train yard. And, these things attacked...shit, it was truly sickening. They must’ve been human at some time, but that time had long since passed. Scorched and melted skin peeled from bones, vicious hisses that almost sounded like words left gaping jaws. Some even had guns. I’m guessing she had hoped that I would help her, and I did my best, but my skills with a machete were novice at best. We found some other supplies, some caches left behind, and then I turned around and she was gone. (Alas, here’s why I think that must’ve happened to her before). 

Grateful, and a little lost, I climbed some stairs, and found what must have once been the control room for the yard. Some electrical equipment (all useless now), a dirty (but not rancid) bed, and a corpse (which I promptly, and carefully, relocated over the railing outside). Most importantly, there’s a working door. I’ve closed it now, boarded it as best I could, and I think I can rest here for the night. 

Overseer urged us to meet her in the Flatwoods. My superstitious mother wouldn’t approve, but I don’t have any other choice. I don’t think one person can do what Vault-Tec has tasked her with, and she’s always been good to me. I’m going to be good, back. 

--SHR

[theinvinciblestellariver]

There were a lot of things my mother asked me to do when the big cogwheel of a door rolled out of the way to release us into whatever horrors awaited us in Appalachia. Of all of them, I feel like this one was the most important. “Keep a journal, Stella.” Her voice was so quiet then, compared to the vibrant, booming tone she had before the sickness took hold. “Write down everything, no matter how trivial. Keep track of your steps, your thoughts, your knowledge.” Right, that’s important if we’re rebuilding America, right mom? She had laughed meekly. “No, darling. It’s important so that you not only survive, but thrive.” 

That was always her command. Thrive. I guess she couldn’t stand to think that I was going to step into the post-apocalypse just barely surviving off of scraps of squirrels in some cave in the mountains. She wanted me to build mansions, to be a queen, to rule the Wasteland as she had once ruled the Underground. She couldn’t imagine her little girl, the five-year-old child she dragged quite literally kicking and screaming into the actual underground, to emerge nothing more than a pauper. 

She was so prideful. Guess I know where I got it from. 

When she died, the burial was so humble. I actually got -angry- about it. Overseer had to have me locked up for days, just so that I would stop screaming. I was told later than my hysterics were audible through the whole Vault - gave Vault Baby One nightmares for a week. Funny to think that a proper burial was the most important thing to me at thirteen. Though, I’d like to think that she would have been beaming at such a reaction. 

You taught me well, mother. 

Regardless. This leather-bound notebook was my inheritance, and with it, I’ll do as she asked. Tomorrow, the Vault door will roll away. (Is it sacrilegious to liken that door to the bolder that let Jesus out of the tomb? Feels like it.) Tomorrow, we will be free - weaponless and barely equipped - to roam the hills of Appalachia, make contact with the new “locals”, and establish the beginning of our new America. 

But, for tonight? Tonight, we party. 

What good is saving the world if we can’t enjoy it? 

--SHR