The Lurk

Gaze lowered, Emmreth watched Quade reach out and touch the location on the Globe she spoke of. There was just something about seeing him interact with it. There was finally someone in her life she felt she could truly share her interests with. 

She found so much fulfillment in sharing them with him, and it manifested itself in warmth permeating her chest. Far away lands were beginning to not look as appealing as they usually did when he was there. In Boston. Right next to her. An actual tangible dream.

She then watched as his finger drew an invisible line from the United Kingdom to Boston. It was an exciting thought — that she might one day actually be able to travel. Perhaps travel was more feasible than she thought. She sometimes forgot about the few people she had encountered from other countries, like the Bobrov brothers. Perhaps because even she found the sheer size of the world hard to grasp at times. “Maybe I will. That would be wonderful.” Her eyes finally lifted to look over at Quade once more, a brow softly raised. “But what about you? Would — would you go if you had the chance?”

It’s a question he should have anticipated, and yet it came to him with some surprise. Brown eyes flashed up to green ones, and in contemplation he stared for what was likely a moment too long before the uncomfortable crack of half a smile pulled back a corner of his lips and his head was bowed out of sight again. “Maybe- I don’t know.” It’s the best answer he can give her with such little known about him, regarding his occupation. How could he possibly consider leaving when he was so strongly tied to The Railroad? But she didn’t know that; it almost pained him, that fact. 

Where she felt warmth, he felt a strange breeze of coldness, the reminder that his world - the one he lived as soon as he left Diamond City - would keep him chained to the Commonwealth for what was bound to be many unforeseeable years. That he could, like so many other things, watch her go off to a better life would be a lonely but selfless decision; one that he would undoubtedly be regrettable.

Even if Quade’s suddenly dour composure were noticed, he’d abruptly dismiss it with another of those softer smiles after reminding himself of his company and this passion Emmreth generously shared with him. His realization would simply have to be logged with those many dreary realities, to be reconsidered if the need ever arose. After all, he deemed her an undeserved light in his perpetual darkness; it was paramount he showed her respect for that gift.

“Tom is also insane.”  One might say the same for Deacon. But where the   good Doctor finds him something of an annoyance,   Quade acknowledges charisma. It’s  - more or less   similar in regards to Tinker Tom. 

     Those slender fingers, the ones so stained in the blood of another man when they had met, curl around Quade’s thumb against her palm, her small hand fitting neatly within his. She allowed her other hand to be taken into his, her pale eyes shifting slowly along his features, looking for some trace of something to hint at his thoughts, but finding nothing…his poker face was better than hers, even. 

    “I told you what I wanted,” Lilith says softly, her eyes lifting back to his when he speaks again. “To be your partner in this life. In all things.” Her own thumb traces along his, her lips pursing slightly. “What do I gain?” She almost laughs, a small breath of air between them. “I already have you, in a sense…so I don’t need to offer myself up for that. But I…would gain a more, well, satisfying companionship. As I said…we are alike, aren’t we? If you’ll tolerate my…needs, as I’ll tolerate your…duties,” she pauses, blinking slowly, watching him from beneath long lashes, “I don’t see why we couldn’t make a formidible pair…and beyond that, there’s the simple reality that I just–” The corner of those red-painted lips lifts ever so slightly, “–find you attractive.” 

     Pulling one of her hands free, she dares to lift it to the edge of The Hound’s jaw and run her fingertips along his face, her touch feather-light. “Lily is a nickname, by the way. It’s short for Lilith.” 

Lilith.  If only Quade was informed of ancient religious texts, this new fact may have been a salvation from the woman’s secret greed. But all he saw, staring down at her in the faint, flickering glow of the firelight behind him and cast so sharp on all her soft features, was another lonely soul. Where she could have picked up such an unhealthy habit which was bound to destroy her, he couldn’t know. But he could sympathize, easily, the unkind teachings of their wasted realm, and how survival shaped a mind - even if he didn’t like what she did, he understood what she was. 

     That dark-eyed stare strayed momentarily in consideration of her words and how it weighed against the morals he’d only years ago begun to construct. The Railroad...THE RAILROAD...always back to them, Desdemona,- what would they think of him? Did he even have an identity outside of his loyalty to their cause? Quade’s eyes squinted and his chest expanded with the slow intake of toxic, smoky air. The escape of one of her hands to relocate to his face with a barely felt touch, appeared to redraw his attention back to the present, stare snapped back to find her own. 

|| updates      Finally completed some much needed updates,       which included a purge for anyone I didn’t interact       with, or hadn’t received replies from in a long while.      If you would like to interact and I unfollowed you,       don’t be afraid to send me a holler! 

     Biggest updates:      - Now SELECTIVE          Due to having less free time, I’ll be focusing on          quality over quantity, and primarily following long-         thread writers from this blog only.       - MULTI-VERSE OC          Though remaining a Fallout 4 main verse, Quade           will be promoted as a multi-verse OC. 

It just did not make sense to her to let Quade pay for a room at the Dugout or something like that, when she had a perfectly good home she could offer him shelter in. She TRUSTED him so the offer was given easily. And though she did not like the idea of letting him sleep on the floor, she allowed it at his continued assurance that it was fine.

Her was home smelled nicer than the inn would have — the scent of books was in the air, the smell emanating from the books on the bookshelves that could be found on most of her walls. And where there was space on her walls, there were often pre-war advertisements and posters, most of which were Nuka-Cola or comic book related. Pre-war objects could be found scattered her home on various pieces of furniture and shelves. Most of them had been clean, and some of them had even been repainted or restored. Meanwhile, her bedroom was in up in a loft, where more books and pre-war relics could be found.

When she awoke that next morning, she got dressed and quietly descended from her loft. She froze when she found him shirtless, eyes widening slightly as blood rushed to her cheeks. She could not help but take in his shirtless form for a moment. God, he was so handsome. 

However, she soon looked away, eyes dropping to the ground as she began to feel creepy for staring and for feeling things she was not sure were requited. “Um, good morning, Quade. Would…would you like a Mirelurk egg omelette?”

Most of Quade’s youth consistently lacked privacy, from changing to often even the bathroom situations, you were lucky if there was a slab of plywood between yourself and the open barracks. Settling for the floor inside of a private abode was a privilege alone, but he was also unfazed by being discovered half dressed. What he did find peculiar, as he turned to face the sound of quiet but approaching footsteps, was the radiating hue of red in his host’s cheeks. 

Was that affection? He felt like one of those confused and naive Synths, new to the world and ignorant of most experiences minus what few their falsified memories offered them. If only he knew. Placing the towel back down on the sink beside him, he didn’t linger too long on the thought and most especially on staring at her in curious observation. 

“I would love one,” he answered. A warm meal, too? Even the inns and resurrected hotels didn’t offer such amenities He’d consider it a day in paradise if he wasn’t too concerned with it all coming undone - after all, Quade was the monster in disguise this time, invading the home of this pleasant woman he’d not too long ago met incidentally. Noodles; some things were simply meant to occur. 

Taking care not to move too close into her personal space, he stepped past her to grab his shirt where it had been neatly folded and for the most part, out of the way of walking space, along with his weapons - two switchblades, an extra in case the other broke, and a laser rifle - and his suit jacket. Pants and shoes had remained on all night. He left the jacket and weapons for now, settling to put the shirt back on as an act of respect, tugging it over his scarred skin, though his tattooed arms remained bare around the tank top. 

         “YOU’RE ACTUALLY insufferable-” She’d eye the garment, features twisting into a tight grimace. Such outfits would never find themselves in her wardrobe, they were useless, used only for AESTHETICS. His voice cut off her thoughts, steeled gaze shifting from the counter to meet his own. 

          “Is this some tactic to just me to sleep with you, or do you enjoy seeing me squirm over SIMPLE things like this?”

     A most unnatural look for his typically stoic face, shifted his  features into an expression of embarassment. That had to be   the purpose of such a garment, after all, but he hadn’t thought   Sarah would be so upfront about it - at his expense, in fact.