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Hungarian Folk Dance Choreographer and Folklorist, Almasi Berta Csilla, Wearing a Headdress from: Tard, MatyĆ³ Region (top) and PalĆ³c Region (bottom)
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/FALLOUT AU/ (1)
Not a drawing, but I play my post-apo OCs in Fallout 4 and I really, really want to show them a little.
First one, FOX :
In the canon of her original story, Fox is a lone survivor with a green coat whose shelter complexāand everyone living in itāwas destroyed. She sets out to search for her partner, Jordane, who went missing, and only a few short weeks laterā¦ she realizes sheās pregnant. Which complicates things a lot.
Fox is a quiet, sarcastic, solitary womanā¦ and she bites. A lot. People often compare her to a rabid rodent.
In Fallout 4, her personality is exactly the same. Her partner/husband didnāt disappearāhe diedāand her son was kidnapped. To play her as accurately as possible, I focused on the main quests tied to finding her son, and only took side quests that could give her resources or money/caps. She only formed bonds and alliances when absolutely necessary andāwithout spoiling the gameāIāll just say that betraying her allies for her family is absolutely something sheād do without hesitation. If you know, you know. Basically, she ends up with her dog as her only real emotional attachment.
She mainly uses long-range weapons : rifles, snipers, anything she can shoot from a distance.
I love her very, very much, even if sheās a little feral creature with sharp teeth. :3
šThere's Poetry in Pain, If You Know Where to Look š
-Post-Apo-
ā Context ā
When Marius, twenty something, tries to slip away from the Sun Militia for the second time, rumor reaches the one man you never run from : the Messiah. Solstice doesnāt send others to fetch his deserters. He goes himself.
Now the swamp holds its breath as the cultās leader drags the frightened kid into the mud for a private lesson ā an intimate, brutal reckoning meant to break whatever stubborn hope still lives in him...
Content warning : physical violence, assault, coercion, blood, humiliation.
Ā« You're not supposed to be a normal person. Ā»
-Post-Apo-
ā Context ā
After endless ordeals in the flooded landsāconflicts that never ended, degenerate raiders with no limits, and monsters more grotesque than each other, Fox had opted for the lesser evil : a pact with the Sun Messiah. Another lunatic, yes, but somehow more coherent than most of the local crazies. The deal ? He and his Militia would bring her intact to the ruins of a mysteriously destroyed military complex, and she would open the digital portal, giving them free rein over Federation supplies. Solstice, of course, had plans that stretched beyond the deal.
Now, between betrayals, broken trust, unexpected protections, and a strange, uneasy understanding, Fox spent her pregnancy in his orbit. He talked constantly. He pressed himself against her, closer and closer each day. She noticed, but as long as it kept her alive, she restrained her bites and let out only low growls...
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š¦ Biting Fox š¦
-Post-Apo-
Fox isnāt a heroine.
She doesnāt save people. She doesnāt even try. The world burned, drowned, and tore itself apart ā and Fox learned fast that helping others usually meant dying faster. She minds her own business, keeps her head down, and bites when cornered. Literally.
There was a time she had a name, a home, a man she loved. Jordane. Heās gone now. Maybe dead, maybe not. She doesnāt talk about him. She doesnāt talk much at all, really. Silence keeps you alive.
Sheās pregnant, though no oneās supposed to know. She hides it like everything else ā under layers of worn fabric and the kind of glare that makes people step back before they think too hard.
Fox is quiet, sharp, and mean when she has to be. Once, she killed a cannibal who tried to eat her. Then, starving and alone, she ate him back. Survival isnāt pretty. Itās teeth and blood and doing what you have to, even when it makes you hate yourself a little more.
Now she travels with him ā Solstice, the so-called Sun Messiah. A deal made out of desperation : his help to reach a ruined military complex in exchange forā¦ whatever twisted game heās playing. She doesnāt like him. Doesnāt trust him either. But he gets results. And when he smiles that way, half-mad and all too alive, she doesnāt bite ā not right away, anyway.
Fox hates being touched. Always has. But Solstice never listens. He teases, pushes, tests her limits until she bares her teeth. Heās learned the hard way that she does bite.
She isnāt gentle, or kind, or good. Sheās just still breathing ā and in this world, thatās the closest thing to heroism sheāll ever allow herself.
BEFORE THE SUN (Solstice's little backstory)
-Post-Apo-
He was only nineteen, Solstice -well, Yann back then-.
Just a kid who thought he had life figured out because he could drive, smoke, and talk back to adults now that he was older, that he had a man's body, after a teenage years of being bullied by some older kids who didn't like the way he was.
Nineteen, and already convinced he was a man.
He got married.
Because he thought thatās what grown-ups did. You find a woman, get a job, pay rent, say āmy wifeā during lunch breaks. He thought that made him somebody.
She was nine years older. Nine years. A canyon at that age.
Beautiful, confident, free. Too free, probably.
Yann looked at her like you look at a star : unreachable, fascinating, a little too bright to touch.
And she, she saw him as a toy. Something shiny to play with while she drifted through her late twenties.
He didnāt want to see it.
He told himself she had chosen him. The cocky kid writing dark poems, all attitude and charm. That made him special, right ?
Wrong.
A year later, it was over.
A year of shouting and yelling, empty looks, lack of understanding. Then nothing. Curtain down.
And the worst part : he never really knew if it hurt. Maybe a little. Maybe not enough. Maybe he just didnāt care anymore.
At twenty-one, he did it again.
Because Yann was that kind of guy, the kind who keeps running into the same wall, hoping itāll move this time. And sometimes, itās the wall that wins.
The second marriage was supposed to be the one.
Sophie was pregnant when they tied the knot. He took it as a sign, fate throwing him a bone, telling him this time itāll work.
Sweet Sophie. Twenty-three. Heād known her back in high school, when she was graduating and he was just starting. The prettiest. The kindest. Never raised her voice, never said too much. They never really spoke at the time, but he ran into her by chance after his divorce.
He loved her, or at least he tried.
He wanted to be enough. But he never was.
Eva was born six and a half months after the wedding.
His daughter. His sun. His mistake in human form.
He loved her, he really did, and she adored him. For a while, he even believed he could be a good dad, or at least his own flawed version of one. Generous, permissive, too much of a buddy, not enough of a father.
He thought it was ācool.ā
He and Sophie divorced when Eva was ten or eleven.
Sophie had cheated on him.
With a coworker. "Kinder", "calmer", "because I love you, Yannick, but you're always too much..."
She apologized. He cried in her arms. He forgave her.
A year later, she did it again.
With the neighbor this time, a cool guy with a motorcycle, the guy heād had beers with.
That time, he saw red. He smashed the coffee table, threw the picture frames. Not at Sophie Never at Sophie. Just at everything theyād built together.
Eva chose to live with him, ābecause Mom ruined the family.ā
He thought that meant redemption, but he wrecked that too. Because you donāt stop being yourself just because you want to.
Teenage years hit like a storm he never saw coming.
Eva got pregnant. Too young, with some idiot a bit older, a bit dumber. She made almost the same mistake he did.
Yann lost it.
Too loud. Too cruel.
He said things a father should never say. He judged, he yelled, he condemned. And she left.
Back to her motherās.
And that was that.
No more wife. No more kid.
Just a man alone with his bitterness and the taste of bile in his throat.
So he kept going.
Truck driver. Years on the road, hauling other peopleās crap across the country.
Crap bosses. Crap pay. Crap everything.
But at least, in his truck, he was free. It was the only place where things made sense. Just him, the road, the static hum of the radio, the empty sky. No reproaches, no eyes judging him, no one asking for more.
The world stayed quiet out there. The problem was when he had to climb back down, when he had to deal with real life. The ex-wife, the silent daughter, the bills, the bullshit.
Thatās when it fell apart again. Thatās when everything turned ugly.
Yann spent his breaks dreaming of somewhere else, a world where he didnāt have to apologize for his anger. Where everything, finally, would just burn down. It was pathetic. But it was honest. He smoked. He drove. He waited.
And one day, it happened. The world drowned.
The apocalypse hit like a blessing.
No more bosses. No more debts. No more rules. No more pretending.
Just silence. Fire. Freedom.
Thatās when Yann died, somewhere in the ashes.
And Solstice was born.
The trucker turned into something else, a man who could talk, lead, lie, charm, command, a man with nothing left to lose.
He killed his first man after only two or three days. His boss, who kept the resources without sharing. No regrets. He took the food and decided he was the boss now.
He gave himself a new name, a new face, a myth to hide behind.
The Sun Messiah.
A joke that got out of hand. He gathered followers. A militia. Enemies. Stories. Horror. And somewhere deep down, he knew it was all smoke, that under the gold paint and the swagger, there was still that same lost kid, a furious boy trapped in a manās body, a failed husband, a failed father, a failed son, a king of ashes with a cigar, too much noise in his head and too much blood on his hands.
Today, everyone knows who he is. Today, evereyone looks at him. Today, everyone wants his approval.
Sometimes, he still sits on a rooftop, cig between his teeth, legs dangling into the void, the stars above him, and that little voice inside whispering :
You had your shot. Twice. And you blew it.
He takes a drag and smiles. Because hell, heās still here, isnāt he ?
And sometimes, when he closes his eyes, heās back in his truck. Just him, the road, the hum of the radio.
A living world, quiet and endless.
BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE...
Before the end of the world, there was no hot-headed survivor and no tyrannical fake prophet yet. Just a slightly lost girl trying to figure herself out, and an overly emotional truck driver with a talent for terrible life choices !
Itās crazy how one of them lost all his cheerfulness in the apocalypse, while the other one somehow got theirs back.
(Fox is so sooo pretty when she isnāt covered in mud !)
OCs : FOX and SOLSTICE
