#shortwaves

USUALLY he wasn’t assigned to niche assignments like this, but with the Lancers now a PRESENCE in the Minutemen, that seemed to be his specialty, hence why he was here in the first place. The General had heard of the mysterious broadcaster across the Commonwealth and evidently it was prudent that they investigate her and see if perhaps she could be SWAYED to helping the Minutemen’s cause, he just didn’t expect to come upon what he saw.

“So...”

He starts as the rest of the Lancers secure the perimeter after an UGLY altercation with some Feral Ghouls not long ago. Needless to say he was glad they were able to operate autonomously otherwise this would have been horribly unpleasant to say the very least of it.

Usually Courier Six preferred the sound of Mr. New Vegas’ voice when she listened to the radio, but there were times when curiosity got the better of her, and tonight was one of those times. A general sense of listlessness had taken over her; the night was usually hard, and when a distraction so plainly laid itself out for her, she was hard pressed not to take it.

She and ED-E had followed the frequency with the rising Sun as company. The music was... haunting just as much as it was strange, and when it was only static, it made the courier wonder if it was perhaps an old world station that hadn’t been very lucky to withstand the test of time. The Mojave desert was warming up, and though Six still felt a chill as she happened upon the radio tower and the silhouette nearby it.

@shortwaves​ said:

“Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.”

“Call me A CYNIC but I sincerely doubt that’s about the ACTUAL moon & stars.”

He figures it’s stating the obvious given the fact that the parallels between loss & poetic metaphors was one that couldn’t possibly broken no matter how time one spent trying. Unfortunately it was usually coupled the the heartache that came with it. There were no true poets without loss, so he figures she’s got SOMETHING to pine for in the way of missing loved ones. He’s not going to pry, SO he remains silent for a moment, leaning back in his chair, the cigarette between his fingers leaving a trail of smoke rising from it before dissipating once it got higher. 

He doesn’t talk much on the subject of loss. It’s far too much to add to the already dreary nature of living in the Commonwealth. The reality of living in a wasteland was depressing enough. Be he remains silent after he initial sentiment, expecting something of a biting remark. people often seemed to take that tone with him. He had just learned to accept it considering the fact that if he got upset it would just cause him more distress than he realistically needed.

“Just because a star can’t be seen past the Moon, doesn’t mean it isn’t still there...for what it’s worth.”

█     𝐓𝐎  𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐖𝐇𝐎  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍  𝐎𝐑  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖  𝐒𝐈𝐗,      for long enough,   it’ll inevitably become obvious that he’s no good at soothing himself.   coping was not his strong suit.  surviving,  yes.  suffering,  yes.   caring for himself?  no.   six doesn’t remember this,  exactly,  but nobody ever taught or showed him how to —  not efficiently,  anyway.

          the overwhelming thought would come up more,  if he let himself get close enough to anyone.  he’s angry,  but it’s mostly because of knowing the thought is beyond illogical;  beyond anything he’s used to bearing the weight of.  an entirely different kind of suffering.  six only liked mind games when he was playing them on others,  not on himself.

          the illogical,  emotion-driven thought:   she’s not coming back.   the reality:  she came back.  she’s standing right there.  six is angry with himself only,  six feels like his brain is even more broken than it already was.  six is terrified.

@shortwaves​ liked for a starter

It’s easy to hole the radio in one of his hands, the same elbow propped on the table to hold his weight as the other still scrawls. Notes, things they already knew but needed to be gathered up once again for his own sanity. Easy work in comparison to his other things. 

“ You’ve been busy; a distraction to the flock. What did you think would happen? “ 

@shortwaves​ said: [ fix ]

[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury

nonverbal memes.     /     accepting

     “ It ain’t as bad as it looks. “ Leo assured, holding a filthy rag against his bruised eye. Moving the fabric aside, you could see the rather nasty (& bloody) mark from the bar fight earlier. His nose was also damaged from it but thankfully, he had managed to already stop the bleeding from his nostrils. 

     There were also some injuries all over his body, mostly bruises & small wounds but nothing that would concern him that much. He’s been through worse, for sure. Despite him feeling ‘alright’ after all of it, he still looked like he’s been run over by a bloody truck. Perhaps that was the reason the other was so willing to offer him pain medicine & patch him up. He didn’t understand why, considering they were barely an acquaintances. 

@shortwaves​ “ i’m surprised we didn’t die trying to get this 

   He leaned back in victory. The coveted amount of caps they cheated their way into earning at the Gomorrah. Roadkill wasn’t worried about the consequences, he was in too deep with the Omertas for them to take action. He was a trusted ally. both of them working for Caesar. 

                       “ I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it. I got connections with the Omertas. ”    He spoke confidently, taking a new bound with every word. He raised his shot glass in agreement, bottoming down the tequila without hesitation. The burn of alcohol might have reminded him of his own mortality yet it was welcomed. Alcohol had alwasy come as a relief to the man, it’s burning edge taking away from his thoughts. It was inevitable that he would turn sour depending on his intoxication but for now he enjoyed the moment.

@shortwaves​ “ the risk i took was calculated. but clearly i am bad at maths. ””

                                                                “ I ain’t no better. ”    He chuckled. NEver even learning how to read he knew less of mathematics. Schooling was never fit for such a rebellious kid, he would rather find himself preoccupied by shooting his first rifle than learning. Roadkill sighed, a loss at battle was devastating though for once he could excuse it. The company of of Nines made his loss more tolerable if yet still uncomfortable. A lost client was on thing at least, disappointing Caesar was a whole other story.