( semper fi )

Was that a smile? Holy shit. The Courier found herself smirking now. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Should’ve sent a letter or somethin’. ‘Course y’ can’t trust couriers nowadays, always overthrowin’ big-wigs an’ raising robot armies instead of doin’ their damn job.”

She paused, thinking about how she’s never really apologized to anyone like this - not sincerely. “Turns out there ain’t much worth seein’ out east. They’re not as … lax as New Vegas. Flash a shiny leg at an officer and they’d rather keep pointin’ a weapon at ya.”

“I’m surprised that there are societies fit for you to visit in the east, when we- uh...” remembering his past as a soldier in those lands was a sober one. no doubt the courier saw some remnants of the organization he abandoned, he doubted it would fall so quickly but he’s heard whispers of its state after Caesar’s death and even though it would take time... it was inevitable. “There wasn’t much to be seen when I last walked those roads. How far east did you go?”

“I’d say th’ same about you … not so formally, though. What do you say we catch up? Dinner ‘n drinks tonight - on me, ‘course.”

and of course she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t have been herself if she worded it any other way. luckily for her, he found it endearing enough to smile at.

Had her mind been clear, perhaps she might have laughed. Sure, she had her own past and problems with men that might have lead her to agree had such a conversation taken place at an earlier date, but her experiences aside, Ellana was the physical embodiment of the law. Before lawyers, judges and juries, she was the first line of defense to protect, serve, and mediate. Dangerous was her line of work–to wake up every morning and put her life on the line should duty call; dangerous was the entangled arrangement they had vehemently rejected and ignored up until this point. Trusting him after already having placed her faith within him countless times already was, quite frankly, quite reasonable.

But she hadn’t voiced any of which, and instead cast her smoldering eyes up towards his own, hands sliding away from the strong features to find the fingertips that hovered with hesitation. There had been a part of which that caused her heart to lurch within her chest and akin to a chain reaction, it in turn induced something of a contented sigh to spill from her mouth as she leaned over his shoulder and pressed her lips against his ear.

“Do you believe that I confide in just anyone?” She pressed her hand smoothly atop his own, nudging the movement of his thumb against the top of the button. “Had I not desired this,” she paused to tilt her head, her left hand pressed against and moved down the length of his torso, “had I not desired you, I wouldn’t have allowed this to happen.” Her fingers had fallen low enough to skirt the waistband of his pants hanging loose at his hips as she breathed a final response leaning away from his ear:

          “Trust me.”

Her words were tempered with an edge that sent a shiver down his spine when she whispered them against his ear. 

Was it a stroke of elevated self importance or skepticism in her judge of character that had provoked such a thought? In any case, her hand moving his against the button of her pants puts the issue at rest and with their combined effort, her pants were soon undone. He had always thought it strange, how uncharacteristically smooth her skin was given her line of work. It spoke volumes to her vigilance, he supposed. 

“Okay.” He acquiesced, a move made all the more amusing when he was the reason why things had escalated as they did. Ellana wasn’t innocent by any means, but she had a code of reciprocating that which was done to her, people who wronged her were punished and those who managed to get on her good side... Well. 

Her hands were sliding along his pants, after all. A simple gesture that made all the difference in revitalizing his comfort in continuing. She had always been good at that, putting doubts to rest with confident proactivity. 

it was UNNERVING to see her: painted skin and with an attire that predated even the world before the bombs dropped. a lingering echo of a life he had abandoned and given her pallid complexion, Octavian might even have considered her a spirit of some long-lost, razed tribe; one whose sole purpose was to haunt him for the sins of the past, sins he could never atone. and despite the fact she drew no weapon towards him, he couldn’t help but wrap his hand around the hilt of his blade and tighten its grip.

he was expecting something. the glint of a scope, the rapid drop of footsteps, the click of a guns safety. some excuse to draw his weapon and wipe this memory from his mind... it never came. 

so, he settled on speaking instead.

“The commons are no place for one to wander aimlessly,” he turned his attention elsewhere, focusing his attention for the same tells he expected from her. nothing. “You should return to your people.” ironic, considering that he too had no purpose to his being here. nothing sufficient, in any case. he was bred and raised for war and it shows when he finds himself locked in the lull of inaction. his fingers would find themselves tightened into a fist more than occasionally, any slight directed towards him resulted in an amount of irritation and anger disproportionate to the remark. it went beyond the petty bar fight Diamond City would occasionally tolerate and Octavian knew that spending time in a cell would prove to be counter productive.

That certainly gave her pause. Okay, maybe not him.

“– Look, just ‘cause you’re more ripped… That’s not a fair comparison, you’re a solider!”

“Perhaps you should think before you issue an open challenge.”

he gave her a once over as well, her physique was fit but far from noteworthy.

Puffing up her chest, she placed her hands on her hips. 

“E–Excuse me, sir! How dare you call me a mole rat? I am at least a fire gecko.”

“That’s-” she was less timid child and more stern mother, but it was still progress. he bit his tongue to hold back his prepared remark.

open fire — the smell of burning gunpowder. it’s familiar, yet not in the slightest bit comfortable. the courier had put a bullet between Cobb’s eyes the second he’d made a fuss in trudy’s bar and left without so much as a glance back. word travels quickly, and despite their best efforts to prepare for the shitshow that followed his death it seems they were starting to get the best of them. Trudy was hurt, Cheyenne had broken a tooth and Easy Pete was beginning to lose steam. as far as she’s concerned, the outcome was growing bleaker by the moment.

sunny aims, pulls the trigger, and is met with nothing more than a dead click. out of ammo. shit, shit, shit. blind panic settles in as she hunkered down with her spine resting against a worn crate and grits her teeth. two left. 

now or never , smiles. go down fightin’ or live to smile another day. sunny’s blood pounds in her ears, and drawing the combat knife from its sheath at her hip, and no sooner than she pokes her head out, she’s met with the snap of gunfire – no pain. just two thuds. bang, bang, down they go. always seems the way with these thugs, bigger they are the harder they fall, though…

      sunny squints to get a better look,               and her heart sinks. legion. she reckons for the most part that they’re here to reap the rewards of the tiny town’s misery, loot what they can, lift the strong and capable and crucify those that remain if rumour were to be trusted. if the word sent from those who’d managed to sneak past nipton. the smoke had apparently been sky high and— shit.

    “ we ain’t got nothin’ for you to take if that’s what you’re here for,  ”  Sunny hollers.  “  best be on your way, s’much as the help’s appreciated.  ”

“You have nothing I want, so I don’t think we’ll have any problems.” the reply is automatic, delivered with a level of defensiveness from her likening the Legion to every other raider gang. he squints as he tries to pick out details in the voice without a face, female and very irritated. but he could work with irritation, she didn’t sound afraid or hate-filled. 

“If these men took anything from you, now would be the time to take it back. Or to resupply on ammunition for your trip back, I can keep an eye out for you.” that was how it started, lend a hand where the NCR wouldn’t. even when they had nothing but suspicion and apprehension in their hearts, extend help all the same. 

it’s less that they actually care for her safety and more that they want to ensure that the Legion is the only faction receiving her help. his employment as her “follower” is double edged: yes, he was supposed to dispose of any threats as she takes out House, but he was also there to be close enough to slide a blade into her neck if it turned out that she was operating as a NCR agent. 

“To be fair, you could catch a disease if a mole rat bites ‘ya.”

“Acquiescing my comparison of you to a rodent is not exactly the response I was looking for.” 

“To be intimidating? It’s not that bad… Is it?”

“Hmm-”

fidelismiles

hm.

“I can feel the judgement from over here.”

The vast expanse of the Mojave meant that there were very few things that could catch you by surprise. The bright orange of the cazadores was easy enough to pick out at a distance, the brightly colored hair and clothing of raiders a dream for anyone carrying a rifle with a scope. Admittedly, the dusty palette served the NCR more than the Legion, their drab beige blending in more effectively than their crimson ever could. But then again, with the echos of gunfire being much more conspicuous than the whistle of a blade or thrown spear.... maybe it balanced out. 

He was certainly glad for the announcement of a firefight up ahead before actually seeing it, it gave him time to crouch, to find a rut off the side of the road and skulk forward, keeping an eye out for any NCR soldiers. 

He was met with the logo of NCRCF instead; clad against a dirty blue uniform: Powder Gangers. Though he respected their defiance against the NCR, Caesar’s orders regarding the gangs of the Mojave were quite clear. Demonstrating what the Legion was capable of served not only to show strength, but also build rapport with the citizens grown jaded to the weak control NCR held over the territory. Locals and Caravaneers were the ones they needed to win over to take this place from right under their noses, one or the other was certainly the current victim of their barrage.

“He’s a skilled and diligent soldier who isn’t so cowardly that he’d make underhanded remarks behind other’s backs.”

The former sound of impatience she’d let slip had been something she hadn’t wished to reveal, but now that she had, it was evident that August had taken advantage of it and used it as leverage. And leverage it he did.

A soft sound reverberated through her chest almost instantaneously and caught within her throat–something almost weak that she desperately wished to smother. She squirmed; her arms and grasp falling momentarily limp as his teeth grazed over the smooth plane of her neck, then snapping back into a taut grip within his hair as the blood drawn into the would-be bruise began to swell beneath her skin. Just as her limbs and posture had recoiled, her breath hitched, and she bit into her tongue to stifle further sounds to emanate from her throat. She would keep her composure. She had to.

In attempt to reclaim what she had lost, Ellana’s fingers clawed through the thick, damp mess of his hair in response to his jab, and she drew his head back with her tangled grip. With the use of the rekindled strength of her body, she urged and pushed him backward. He was provoking her–she knew it, but she fell into his taunt willingly, feeling that it was the most effective way to acquire what she desired. She would not fall prey again.

“Why?” She hissed through her teeth within the few seconds it took for her to reorient herself. “You know what I want.” Her hand drew forward again, fingertips grazing firmly over his jaw until her thumb had found his bottom lip. She pushed against as if to urge his lips to part, and had immediately thereafter leaned up to occupy the space between his mouth with her own once again. Even then, she spoke through the pressure applied by her own lips as if to make herself clear:

“Don’t make me beg.”

He can’t even find it in himself to muster an ounce of frustration when he tugged on his hair, only managing to grunt in a way that didn’t quite display pain. It served him right, he wasn’t about to pretend that he didn’t want her to play at the same provocative tactics he employed. It was the reason why moments before she mashed their lips, he found the nerve to graze the pad of her finger with his teeth.

He pushed and she pulled... and vice-versa.  

He eagerly embraced the ardor in her kiss, relished in the heated words she nearly pleaded against his lips. Ellana would deny it, of course, instead insist that it was more command than a request. He respected her pride enough to only take silent pleasure that it sounded anything but.

August’s hand worked more out of reflex than conscious thought, one winding itself in her hair to keeper head in place and deepen the kiss while the other grasped her thigh, as if to ground himself from the rush of blood that left his thoughts hazy. As his tongue swiped the inside of her mouth, his hand drifted upward, finding purchase along the coarse material of her pants until it reached the chill of the metal button. 

It was rather clear to him how to proceed.

“It’s dangerous to presume that I’ll do exactly what you want-” She trusted him, and that fact is enough to cause his pulse to quicken and his grip on her to tighten. “I just want... a sign.”