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Stole my heart. ~Eo
What stole your heart?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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♛
♛ - my muse admires
In her SS verse, she’s pretty much entranced by Elder Maxson. He’s got the charisma that a leader needs, and she’s going with the crowd. Just, the BoS in general impresses her because they are moving forward when most people are content living in the rubble of the past.
"You should plan your actions more carefully, m'am. You could've been killed, just now."
She was huffing and sweaty, hair sticking to her face as she tried to catch her breath. Marcie couldn't help but to give him a look. Maybe it could have been avoided entirely, but the woman was never as graceful as she presented herself. The building's inhabitants were unaware of the pair, until she bumped into the wall and oof'd under her breath, unleashing drugged up raider hell. "... Will do, X... and call me Marcie."
v;ss Marcie isn't usually in her power armor, preferring her own clothes or a Brotherhood jumpsuit. She thinks that power armor is unnecessarily intimidating and that she won't be as trusted much when wearing it. Her hair is either in a ponytail or a bun (if she's out and about) and down when she's on the Prydwen or in a safe town.
sole survivor marcie more like how did you survive for this long
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marcie after getting her "quarters" on the Prydwen: ... ok this... is alright i guess marcie after [plot development] and getting personal quarters: :') this makes the sadness go away
needs and expectations
@steelforgxd
He was intimidating, that was for sure. Not the kind of man she was used to, in the helm of power. It used to be men in suits, hair swept neatly to the side, perfect ties, with gold watches, class rings, and alma maters to boast about at diner parties. Elder Maxson was none of these things, save for being well spoken, and maybe the hair, but this was power now. Did he think the same of her, how Marcie didn’t look like that kind of woman. Trading the power skirt for power armor, her briefcase for a gun, objections for ammo. At least she still had her long hair. ‘I’m – I was a lawyer.’, she’d tell everyone. Marcella Vespers– wait, she was going maiden again; not as offense to her husband, she could never. It just hurt less. Calling herself ‘Lindell’ didn’t break her heart or make her think about banging on shatterproof glass as they took her family from her. “I’m sorry, if I’m not what you expected.”
