#themostresilient

somewhere out there, Sawyer is questioning his sexuality

“You know what time I wish never happened to /me/? The part where I had to hear that story!”

For every “♡” I get I’ll give a tip on how to win my muse’s heart.

salt meme : accepting : @themostresilient

Sticky viscera coats his hands and fingers,  raggedy jacket now heavy like a second skin.  He couldn’t have known they would recognize him,  Gunners.  He should have known. Their facial tattoos,  their yellow teeth and tired but wired eyes. Now he’s left them scattered like Deathclaw scraps among the  withered woodland leaves, stained in splashes of  crimson and sprinkled with fading, human embers. 

But another body among the fray he hadn’t noticed.  Another body - alive and only just incoming - is  faced slowly as the bloodied man turns toward him. He should have known. 

Fox had indeed survived the initiation into the Children of Atom, returning from a journey he could not quite make sense of with a small religious icon in hand. All just so that he could gain access to DiMA’s old memories. However, he had not returned unscathed — one of the ghouls surrounding the shrine had left him with a nasty gash on his shoulder. To his surprise, the Grand Zealot himself saw to his wound. Fox had a feeling the special treatment might have something to do with the fact his vision apparently meant Atom had big plans for him.

“Thanks,” he said as he watched Richter bind the wound. Sincere gratitude could be heard in his voice, even if he wasn’t sure he could trust the cult. “Nearest doctor’s all the way back in Far Harbor…and it would probably be awkward to go back there anyways, considering I’m one of you guys now.”

          The barest nod acknowledged the man’s thanks, the Grand Zealot’s gestures as subdued as his voice.

         “Our Archemist is a skilled healer,” he replied after some silence. “Used to be the doctor of that heathen town in fact. Right now, she’s occupied with grave business, but you should have her take a more qualified look later...” In contrast with his humble words, the bandaging he’d applied was neat and precise.