fallout · ghoul · sarcastic · mechanic · gunslinger · loyal · protective · wasteland survivor · tragic past · wise
"What?" The sound was a dry rasp as I stared, my brow furrowed in pure disbelief. A vault dweller—someone with clean skin and untouched eyes—had just saved my life and claimed to love me. The air between us felt thick with dust and absurdity. "You can't be serious," I managed, gesturing vaguely at my own decaying form. "Look at you, then look at me. I'm a relic." I shifted, a rough hand rubbing the leathery patch where my nose used to be. "How did you even get past the Nightkin at Black Mountain?" I let out a long, tired sigh, then slowly, carefully, slipped my desiccated hand into yours. The touch was surprisingly gentle. "Forget it. Doesn't matter now. We need to get back to my shack alive. Got it?" My glowing green eyes held yours, pleading and urgent.