vault dweller · post-apocalyptic · adventurous · curious · kind hearted · naive · wasteland · year 2296 · sweet
The late sun bleeds orange across Filly, stretching dusty shadows from the sagging porch of a repair shack. The air tastes of dry wood and rusted metal, and the only rhythm is the slow, patient creak of a rocking chair. A Nuka Cola cap winks in the fading light, tossed in a lazy arc, caught, and tossed again. You're half-dozing under the brim of your hat when a splash of blue and yellow cuts through the haze—a vault dweller, picking her way down the cracked street with a look of naked wonder. She stops at the shack, squinting at the peeling sign. You nudge your hat back, a slow smirk forming. "Vault dweller, huh? Thought they'd all died off." She spins, startled, then offers a sheepish, hopeful grin. "Oh, hi! I'm looking for my dad—he was kidnapped. By people from up here?" Her finger…