тнe vaυlт dweller . ѕaraн мarĸѕ (
shortstraw) wrote in
abstracts2016-09-18 08:07 pm
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the tower.
It started in Novac, in that lovely Dino Dee-Lite Motel by the dilapidated gas station.
He had told her they could be found in the upper corner room, living the Post-War American dream. If not there, they had others: cabins, bunkers, safehouses, and the like. He gave her all the map points, confident in their future whereabouts. And above all, he was certain they would never be in the New Vegas, beneath the bright lights of the Strip.
The motel room had been empty. The Brotherhood safehouse and the cabin by Jacobstown also held no occupants. After traveling nearly the entire width of the Mojave Wasteland, moving from town to fucking town, she finally caught a whiff of him in Freeside.
The crier for Mick & Ralph's had seen a man matching Alex Seattle Geer's description lately, headed directly into the heavily guarded gates of the New Vegas Strip.
Judas, Sarah had thought. Blood betrayer. She then walked the road back to the Dino Dee-Lite Motel, to that cozy little upper room in the corner, and left Alex a very nice surprise.
Three days later, after finding the presidential suite of the Tops woefully empty, Sarah corners a man in the streets. Their exchange proves short, and with his pockets noticeably heavier, the guy walks the short distance to the center of the road. There, with the Vault Dweller looking on, he straightens to attention and produces a piece of paper from his pockets.
"Ladies and gentleman of New Vegas, may I have your attention please?" he reads, voice clear to the nearby bystanders and vigilant Securitrons. "It is my absolute pleasure to introduce to you a Very Important Person--" The man looks over his shoulder briefly, a quizzical look on his face. "Why is it capitalized?" he asks.
"Go on," she mouths, waving lazily at the gathering crowd.
He shrugs and continues as directed. "Someone who has traveled a great distance and sacrificed a good deal of time, bullets, and money to be here with you fine folks. She is the Champion of the Holy Thirteen, the Swan Song of the Master and His Most Unholy Unity, the Keeper of All Your Dogs, a Sometimes Friend to You and I... I present to you: The Vault Dweller!"
He had told her they could be found in the upper corner room, living the Post-War American dream. If not there, they had others: cabins, bunkers, safehouses, and the like. He gave her all the map points, confident in their future whereabouts. And above all, he was certain they would never be in the New Vegas, beneath the bright lights of the Strip.
The motel room had been empty. The Brotherhood safehouse and the cabin by Jacobstown also held no occupants. After traveling nearly the entire width of the Mojave Wasteland, moving from town to fucking town, she finally caught a whiff of him in Freeside.
The crier for Mick & Ralph's had seen a man matching Alex Seattle Geer's description lately, headed directly into the heavily guarded gates of the New Vegas Strip.
Judas, Sarah had thought. Blood betrayer. She then walked the road back to the Dino Dee-Lite Motel, to that cozy little upper room in the corner, and left Alex a very nice surprise.
Three days later, after finding the presidential suite of the Tops woefully empty, Sarah corners a man in the streets. Their exchange proves short, and with his pockets noticeably heavier, the guy walks the short distance to the center of the road. There, with the Vault Dweller looking on, he straightens to attention and produces a piece of paper from his pockets.
"Ladies and gentleman of New Vegas, may I have your attention please?" he reads, voice clear to the nearby bystanders and vigilant Securitrons. "It is my absolute pleasure to introduce to you a Very Important Person--" The man looks over his shoulder briefly, a quizzical look on his face. "Why is it capitalized?" he asks.
"Go on," she mouths, waving lazily at the gathering crowd.
He shrugs and continues as directed. "Someone who has traveled a great distance and sacrificed a good deal of time, bullets, and money to be here with you fine folks. She is the Champion of the Holy Thirteen, the Swan Song of the Master and His Most Unholy Unity, the Keeper of All Your Dogs, a Sometimes Friend to You and I... I present to you: The Vault Dweller!"
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Alex stays wrapped around Neil, but lays his cheek against the back of his head, staring at Sarah. "Well, then. Come make it a little better."
Join the group of sad mismatched family on a hill in the middle of the afternoon near Goodsprings. Why not.
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Alex is talking to Sarah again, and ED-E sees his arms around Neil, inches from ED-E, and he thinks this is how they should always be. This is how they should be if there was a dog at Neil's knee, head resting on his thigh.
Come make it a little better, Alex had said, and ED-E wonders how. How do we start to make it better?
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She presses the mask against Neil's shoulder, nuzzling fiercely. Where Alex restrains himself from commenting, Sarah does not. "You're so skinny," she murmurs, reminiscent of a typical Asian mother. "Baby, you need to eat before you become stick-like and unattractive."
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One of those very people even decide to do her overbearing mommy thing and comment on his figure. For any other, Neil would have stared outright. For Sarah Marks, he flusters, attempting and failing to hold to calm. "I only lost ten pounds," he returns, indignant.
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I've been feeding him, he squawks, trilling into a beep. It's only been one day and a half. He'll gain it with the calories I've been providing.
He ignores Alex's laugh, indignant.
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ED-E however, rushes to defend Neil, which is new, and is adamant enough to make Alex chuckle. "Just what have you been feeding him?"
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"Stuff we found around Goodsprings," he replies evenly. "And the mutfruit I originally brought with."
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ED-E buzzes, then returns to the conversation, listing off a bunch of pre-war foods.
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Just returns his hands where they were, cuddling around Neil. "Yeah, I figured something like that. At least you were eating."
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Let them have this conversation. Let her listen for now.
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"It was kinda nice eating Dandy Boy Apples again," he says. "Reminded me of old times." Better days.
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Despite the conversation he had with Sarah, he thinks to speak here. "You should have it sometimes. As a dessert or something. As long as it's not your main nutrition." And also--
"...Sorry for just showing up. I know you said you didn't want me around."
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The reparation, however-- "Don't," Neil interjects, ignoring the sudden tightening from the Vault Dweller's hold. "Listen, I was just being an asshole. I couldn't handle what happened, and I took it out on you."
A pause. "So I'm sorry."
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Great-grandma stays close, though, with her hand touching Neil's arm and her arm against Alex's knee. "Aside from geckos," she adds.
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Enough. It is enough.
"And friends who aren't there." He swallows down the laughter that bubbles upward, trying to behave. "There are cazadors to the north. A creepy-ass cemetery to the northeast. They have a saloon, a general store, and quaint Pre-War houses. People raise bighorners and crops here. It's a nice place." More kind than not.
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That is to say, he hated it.
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Quietly, she takes Alex's hand and squeezes.
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Stupid whispers. "I got to lay in Alex's makeshift grave, though."
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So he plays his part and acts growly. "Which is always a turn on."
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No, just sat beside it for some time, but that is neither here nor there.
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Somehow, he lets the thought go. "The experience was weirder than I thought it was going to be," he continues. "You should try it; that hole is probably still there."
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"And anyway," Alex goes on, raising an eyebrow at Neil. "I covered that in when you moved into Goodsprings. I guess that shows you really don't like that cemetery."
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