#eldermaxscn

pucker up buttercup || accepting

@eldermaxscn​ said: “ don’t talk, just kiss me. ”

Giving an absent nod as Maxson’s words rumble through her Jean threads her fingers through the short soft hair on the back of his head. His lips tended to make thoughts and words disappear like smoke on a breeze anyway, so any conversations would be short lived. Intimacy is still fairly new for the soldier, Jean finds the tenderness in his kisses curious, having expected him to be at least a little rougher ( or at the very least clumsy ). Slightly chapped lips touch each corner of her mouth before taking them completely with the ghost of a hum that resonates in Maxson’s chest.

Calloused fingers at the nape of her neck tilt Jean’s head back as the breath of a moan slips through the spaces their lips made between kisses. While it isn’t talking, the woman still had mind enough to be quiet since they were just boxed into a darkened corner of the Prydwen. Any errant noises could draw curiosity which would be disastrous for them both. A growing knot of anxiety building in the woman’s chest nearly breaking the kiss. Maybe they should continue this somewhere a little more private. Behind a locked door most preferably.

Then a thumb just beneath the hinge of her jaw coaxes Jean’s lips apart and the heat of Maxson’s mouth makes her head reel. A free arm encircled the drifter’s waist pulling her firm against the expanse of the Elder’s chest as Jean goes a little weak at the knees. The blunt points of her nails dig into the back of the soldier’s neck and it earns a restrained noise from him, one that she found that she’d love to hear again. 

God, why did she have to wear this heavy canvas coat today? 

Jean’s free hand wanders upward along the plane of his chest trying to seek a part between all the layers he wore seeking out the skin beneath. They both wore way too damned much. With some difficulty the kiss breaks, the glisten of his lips in the dim light making Jean’s stomach twist in the most exquisite way. It doesn’t take long for that hand on the back of her neck to tilt it to Maxson’s liking as he took to marking the exposed skin of Jean’s throat. 

Swallowing a salacious sound the drifter digs her nails deeper into the soldier’s skin leaving little half-moon marks. A half-whisper of his name is all she can muster. Turning just enough to press her lips to the man’s temple Jean finds the voice which he’d snatched from her.

Clean. Everything in here smelled clean. Everything is in its place and if it wasn’t there were more than enough wandering soldiers to right any wrongs their commanding officer’s saw. Jean is one of these wrongs that were wandering the halls. Seeing the disapproval -- perhaps even disgust -- in the watching pairs of eyes that followed her through the Prydwen. Even though the hard steel and glass countenances of those towering men in their power armor Jean can feel it through the tinted lenses.

Hands deep in the pockets of a dirty olive drab canvas drifter’s coat that she’d patched more times than the woman cares to remember Jean almost seems to shrink into herself. She’d encountered feral ghouls with a more welcoming attitude than the Brotherhood, at least they usually backed down when you threw a few scraps of meat at them before you went to your looting. Fed animals didn’t bite as long as you let them lay. 

Worrying a frayed hem on one of the gloves in her pocket the arms dealer loiters awkwardly by the Proctor’s desk. Stepped far enough away so that he could have his breathing room while pouring over the collection of dusty things she’d deposited on the worktable. A knot of anxiety had balled up tightly just behind Jean’s ribs as there were murmurs in the hall behind her. Damned grenade blasts reduced the lower spectrum to ringing at this point, but she could still pick out “that red-haired woman.” 

Swallowing a hot wash of self-consciousness Jean shifts on her feet before angling her chin to peer at Quinlan as if what he’s looking at is actually of any interest. 

❛ Do you happen to know if Elder Maxson is around? I was supposed to take a word with him once I’d dropped my findings off here.  ❜                           Eyes clear and sharp behind their lenses when they snap up to Jean she can see several speculations and emotions glitter in them before a disinterested expression creases Quinlan’s brow. A slight diplomatic smile colors Jean’s face before the prickle of irritation at the assumptions she read in his eyes can fully bloom.

❛ From what I am aware, he is where he always is.  ❜                             Go find him yourself because I’m sure as hell not going to be showing you around. That tone said to her and Jean has to clamp her teeth down on her tongue to keep the smile in place. Excusing herself to leave Quinlan to his dusty junk that had very nearly gotten her nibbled on by a feral Jean rubs a hand over her tired face as she sticks close to the wall of the corridor to the flight deck. 

Stepping out into the warm commonwealth sunlight that always seems to hold a little green tint to it Jean looks first out at the breathtaking view before focusing on Maxson’s back. A muted huff of a chuckle leaves the woman as she echoes.

【🔧】— “Cease fire! Don’t. Shoot. Please.” The woman dropped the screwdriver as the laser pistol discharged and held up her hands, one made of flesh and bone, the other cybernetic-- a combination of polymers and lightweight steel, scratched and scuffed from decades of use; at the upper arm, an old, worn out insignia of two pistols back to back above a circlet of wings. It belonged to a splinter faction of the Brotherhood: the Texas expedition.

        “Swear t’ Gawd, y’all cain’t tell a cripple trynna fix her arm apart from them androids y’all keep hoopin’ n’ hollerin’ about.” She muttered that last part under her breath, but it was just loud enough for the closest soldier to hear her. 

     he wondered sometimes what his soldiers THOUGHT of their elder as he stood over the commonwealth , watching and learning more and more about the world below . he knew the squires must have revered him as a god – hell , some of the knights and PALADINS must have thought the same . but he was a man – a man driven by purpose , and by prose . a man who knew the institute was out there , somewhere hiding in the shadows of the night , waiting and watching to swallow the commonwealth whole , just as it had been swallowed before . it was a burden , yes , to be the great elder of the brotherhood’s admittedly golden dynasty , and some days , maxson grew tired .

     but today , there was another to shoulder the burden – another to help carry the weight of the brotherhood upon her shoulders . so gratefully , maxson nodded as tired eyes met hers .

         ❝ good … good . i expect it done , soldier . your work is greatly appreciated . ❞

Savannah had found Elder Maxson overlooking the Commonwealth that night after returning to the Prydwen from her mission. After unloading her gear and dropping off the couple of technical documents she had recovered, along with overhearing the rumors of a new mission, she went to see Maxson. 

Without hesitation, she accepted the mission. It shouldn’t be too difficult - she just needed a plan and some ammo and Jax said he had a new modification for her weapon that would make it easier to handle and quicker to fire - and if it took some pressure off of Maxson, it was worth it. Though she had initially joined the Brotherhood to appease her brother, it had become much more than that. It gave her something to do, a reason to be better, better than her past. 

❝ threats rarely do . ❞

     a short response from a leveled voice , maxson frowned onto the horizon in the direction of the distant explosion . perhaps it had been a car – still filled with gasoline after 210 years of decay – perhaps it had been a grenade thrown by a too young raider . or perhaps , it had been a SYNTH , geared up , and ready to infiltrate the brotherhood’s ranks .

     so with a prejudiced sneer , maxson pulled the laser rifle strapped to his back to attention . gesturing to a nearby knight , he spoke with authority – gilded and forged in fire .

         ❝ to me – and YOU . should you so decide , join us in getting to the bottom of this . ❞

Billie’s hands were drawn close to her chest, wringing furtively as she followed his gaze. There was nothing to be seen for miles. Only the ruins which turned on themselves like rotted corpses. Caved in by time and the effort of scavengers that picked apart their walls.   

Fear quickly turned to sick curiosity. It was easy to forego self preservation when there were things in this world to study. Mysteries, no matter how small, for her to experience. 

           The former senior scribe had never seen T-60 power armor before, but it seemed that the Eastern Branch of her family had been doing well to have enough of such a rare model to issue to their knights. Her T-51 paled in comparison... maybe that was why her own branch was wiped out years ago.

         The woman set her weapons down and held her hands up in surrender before the two knights pointing their weapons at her, knowing full well that none of their Brotherhood members had T-51 power armor with their insignia painted on.

The old ghoul shot Maxson a disapproving glare, one to match the leer on the young man’s face. Sure, he hadn’t said anything yet, but after thirty years of being of Mexican heritage and one hundred fifty years later a ghoul, he could tell when someone was staring at him in a hostile way.

Or maybe the guy just had a serious case of resting bitch face; who knew.

He’d be damned if he said anything, though. No, usually a catty remark tended to set these kinds of people off. Last thing he needed was to get shot or KLE0 getting onto him for picking a fight with passers-by.

lucky numbers || accepting

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