There are plans in motion for the characters you had in the rp.
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Shelby Jackson - Mary's House
"What do ye want, ye slattern?", Mary hissed as she sat up with a start, leaning forward until she was nose to nose with the younger woman. "Did I not tell ye to come back after sundown?.” Mary's teeth bared slightly as Shelby explained.
Shelby curled her lip and hissed right back, “Yeah...you did, but I need a mason jar.”
"A mason jar?!?", Mary bellowed, "Ye woke me up for a damned Mason Jar? What is the matter with ye?" Mary then leaned back and rested on her arms, then planted a foot on Shelby's back and began to push. "Go ask the damned robot for one....and why don't ye make yourself useful and draw me a bath!"
“Damn, I thought I'd show some respect and ask you, not a bucket of bolts,” Shelby shifted so Mary's foot slipped off, “Fine…” Shelby stood up as the robot floated into the room.
"Miss Mary", the Robot, hovering in the doorway began to say. "I...."
"Damn you!", Mary bellowed as she snatched up a pillow from her bed and hurled it successfully at the robot, "go tend to the horse, will ye?"
"Yes, Ma'am", the robot replied obsequiously as it retreated out of the room and floated away. "Right away Ma'am".
Shelby folded her arms and cracked a sly grin, “Someone is moody as hell,” she said under her breath.
It was then that Mary noticed that Shelby was armed to the teeth, carrying several weapons and had left a stout staff leaning against the wall.
"What are ye up to?", Mary demanded, "Why are ye armed for battle to collect a mason jar?" Her eyes narrowed accusingly and she hissed in a whisper. "Are ye thinking of trying what you saw this morning? Ye know nothing of what I know....it would end very badly for ye to try thy hand at something that powerful."
This startled Shelby and she shook her head, “Na...no, I have some other business that needs handled. Sooner rather than later would be nice. I need the jar to...nevermind, I just need a fuckin’ jar damnit. What color bath do you want?” She raised her brow and smirked, “I can't draw for shit, but I'll try.” She placed her hands on her hips, “I'll just surprise you I suppose.” With that Shelby slipped across the hall to the bathroom, once the water was hot she placed the plug in the drain and returned to the bedroom. She bowed and gestured towards the bathroom, “Ye bath is ready.” Then she straightened up, “I'll go ask Bolts for a jar, sorry I bothered you.”
Waylon - S&W Weaponry
"Mm," Frieda began carefully, tapping off some ashes, "seems like deathclaws make everyone get a little squirrely. As for dinner, I'm...not picky," she paused, "Brandy cooked up some fried chicken last night that was really good. But," she smiled, "I can't cook for shit, so I doubt you could really do much worse."
Waylon laughed, Guess we shall see about that,” he turned and pulled open his small cooler and pulled out two purified water, “Would you like one?” He held one bottle out.
It was quiet, but comfortable in the little weapon's shop. "Is Shelby okay, though? Do you think we should go looking for her?"
Waylon swallowed his drink and shook his head, “No, as much as I would like to she...it would probably just piss her off even more. She needs to do what she needs to do you know?” He twisted the cap back on his water bottle, “I noticed you looking at the wall. Shelby makes those blades in the back garage, she has a forge set up. It's really an art form, I tried and failed miserably.” He laughed and took another toke on his cigarette. “She could make you one if you'd like? Guarantee there wouldn't be another like it anywhere.”
Snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray, “Do you need a hand with anything over at the clinic? Try to get it so you can get a nap, it's been non-stop today.”
Basically she will be comimg in right after a Super Mutant attack immediately followed by a Matriarch Mother Deathclaw and a pack of babies.
Shelby Jackson - Salem
Shelby closed her fist hard enough that it made her knuckles crack. Shit, I need a jar, she turned to see the new Super Mutant leaving the clinic. She watched as the mutant drug the deathclaw to some, grinding her teeth as he lopped off the deathclaws tail. Squeezing her fists tighter, desperately wanting to approach the mutant, but rather stepping backwards towards Brandy’s house.
“oh and one more thing. If no one claims that carcass, ill possess it out when I get back. Now I'm going to go find the good doctor see if he needs any medical supplies.” The mutant called out.
Raising her arm, she suddenly yanked it back to her side, “I want that,” her voiced actually cracked, nowhere near as loud as she wanted to scream it. The last thing she wanted was to be face to face with a super mutant right now. She bit her lip and turned towards Brandy’s door, she has mason jars. Shelby tried the door but it was locked, surprisingly solid she furrowed her brow. She next door to Mary's home, the horse gnawed on some grass as if nothing ever happened. She froze when the horse shuffled its hooves in the dirt, bringing her hand to her 1911. She knocked but no answer, she was turning the handle when the door pulled open.
“May I help Miss?” asked a Mr. Handy.
Shelby peered in either side of the floating robot, she didn't care too much for robots, very much the opposite of Brandy. Well, they were total opposites, so that was no surprise. “Where's Mary?”
“I'm afraid she is unavailable at the moment. Madam is resting, may I be of any assistance Miss?”
“Nope,” Shelby pushed the robot aside, “I need to speak to her now , damn bucket of bolts.” She went upstairs and looked in two rooms before seeing Mary sleeping heavily. Shelby quietly shut the down behind her, placing her staff in the corner and her backpack on an old velvet chair. She walked over, “Mary?”
Nothing, Mary didn't even flinch. Shelby couldn't help but wonder how on earth Mary was as old as she had said, she brushed sime stray hairs behind Mary's ear. “Ma...Mary?” she gazed longingly at the woman sleeping so peacefully before her. Shelby lightly ran her finger down Mary's arm causing goosebumps, Mary turned over and Shelby sighed. Mary seemed to be a stern one, her actions showed more age than her features could even think of showing. Shelby gently shook Mary's shoulders, causing a deep inhale and shrug but that was it. God dammit, Shelby cursed to herself. Finally she sat down and nudged Mary, “Would you wake the fu…” she noticed an empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, “Mary, wake the fuck up, I need something.”
Sorry it triple posted when the guild was having issues earlier
Sorry tried posted when the guild was having issues
Waylon - S&W Weaponry
Waylon was cleaning his trusty 1911 when a knock came from the door, he furrowed his brow then shrugged, walking over to the door he notice Frieda standing outside. Before her hand landed on the doorknob, he opened it for her, "Uh, hey," she began, quietly, "Can I bum a cigarette? I'll owe you one, I promise."
He smiled, “Sure, c’mon in,” he held open the door for her as she stepped inside. He closed and locked it, flipping the sign to closed, “Hell, with all that's happened I doubt I'll have many, if any customers today anyways. Lemme see is I still have some in my desk drawer.” Waylon pulled a chair over, “You've had one hell of a day too, have a seat.” He rifled through his desk drawers until he found a four packs Brandy had traded for a couple of shotgun shells. He packed one and tore open the cellophane handing Frieda the whole pack, “Here ya go, that way you'll have some for later,” he winked.
He pulled out a second pack and opened it up, then he held out an antique Zippo and lit Frieda’s cigarette before lighting his and sitting down. “So how's Brandy doing? She didn't look to good at all.” He sighed, “This has kicked Shelby into a hot mess, she's off and about. I hope she keeps her head on straight.” He caught himself rambling, “I'm sorry about that. So, what do you feel like for dinner tonight? I'll cook it up, or at least try.” He laughed a little, “I just want this day to turn into evening and get to dinner.”
Brandy - Clinic
Everything replayed in her head like it was on a loop. Jer vision blurred as she was shadowed by a large figure, a Super Mutant. It was not Rook, but he didn't seem to impose an immediate threat. Though it did not matter much, she couldn't hardly move, her legs felt like rubber melting into the cot. She felt a needle, followed by tugging on her shoulder as she was stitched up. Her head rocked back and forth, her eyes pried open and dry as she had no more tears. The Med-X jad began to course through her veins calming her body down, but not her mind.
“They're real,” she whispered hoarsely to the Super Mutant before he left her side. She could feel the beasts warm saliva on her face again, just like it had been in the town center. She turned her head to shake it off and look away but the beast still stood right in front of her whichever way she turned her head, poised for the kill.
Her attention was diverted, if only for a brief moment as a gentle warmth encompassed her hand. “Don’t worry kid, I’m here for you.” Ace said quietly, lightly brushing a strand of hair from Brandy’s cheek. She stared at him, his image going back and forth between Ace and the deathclaw. Her lip quivered as Ace leaned in closer. She managed to get hear head to rest against his chest on the edge of the cot.
“Am I dead?” her voice quiet, her face embracing the warmth of his chest. Her shoulder and back felt hot from the wounds, “I never got to tell you I love you...I...I’m sorry Ace. I'm so sorry that I never told you, now it's too late.”
Shelby Jackson - Salem
Shelby and Waylon drug the small deathclaw back to their shop, “Let's grab the one by the clinic.”
“Isn't one enough?” asked Waylon, Shelby narrowed her eyes back at him, “OK, OK,” he held up his hands in a mock surrender.
The two of them passed the clinic entrance when the tall blonde Shelby had helped darted up to them. "Waylon, hey! Brandy's hurt, but she's in the clinic now, the doc's going to stitch her up. She should be okay, but I thought you might want to know."
Shelby had grabbed the second dead deathclaw and began dragging it when the woman addressed her. The blonde offered her blood stained hand, "I didn't really get to thank you, back there. I'm Frieda...Richter. Frieda Richter." She cleared her throat. Waylon watched nervously unsure how Shelby would react given her taste of blood, it always did something to her.
Shelby extended her own blood stained hand, “Shelby Jackson,” she smirked, “Next time try not to be on the bottom.”
"Ah, anyway, I should get back to the clinic. And, uh, dinner, later, still, yes, right?" Frieda stammered, addressing Waylon.
Waylon smiled genuinely, “Absolutely, I'm looking forward to it.” He saw Shelby's brain turning.
Shelby's eyes went between Frieda and Waylon, she grinned, “Dinner huh?”
Frieda clapped her hands together. "Okay! See you folks around." She turned on her heel and galloped off back to the clinic.
“I'll see you later,” Waylon watched as Frieda took off.
Shelby raised her brow, “Dinner?” she elbowed Waylon, “Are you getting dessert too?”
Waylon frowned, “Shut up Shelby, it's not like that, new life remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off, “Gimme a hand getting this thing back to the shop.”
Waylon shook his head and grabbed the other arm of the dead creature, “Shit, forgot to tell you, Eliza is up and walking around.”
Shelby froze, “She is?”
“Yep, was looking out the window before the critter infestation.”
“Let's hurry and get this to the shop then, c’mon,” Shelby picked up her pace, grunting against the dead weight if the deathclaw.
After a brief struggle, the two young deathclaws were now on the floor in Shelby’s forge. She grabbed an old towel and wiped her hands off, “I'm gonna go check on Eliza.”
“Alright, let me know how she's doing, she didn't even speak to me earlier,” Waylon caught the towel from Shelby's toss.
She ran upstairs and stopped in front of the door to run her fingers through her hair. The anticipation of Eliza feeling better brought her heartbeat up as thoughts rushed through her head of their fresh start on a new life. Shelby smiled as she opened her door, “Hey Hun, Waylon said you were feeling better and actually walking around?” She looked around her place, but no Eliza. She called Eliza’s name as she walked around looking for her, but nothing. Then Shelby noticed that Eliza’s backpack was nowhere to be found either, she clenched her fists as her heart fell to the floor. Frantically Shelby looked around, even up in Waylon's place the floor above. She ran downstairs, “Waylon!!! Where was she?”
Waylon looked at Shelby, “She was standing at the window in your room looking out over town.” He shrugged, “Like i said, she ignored me and then Brandy came screaming into town so I took off. I never saw her leave or anything either.”
“Help me look for her then, her backpack is missing too,” Shelby's eyes glassed over as Waylon sat down the pistol he was tinkering with to help look. Nervously she searched and searched every floor, every room, but not a single sign. The only thing she found was an empty Med-X syringe. Shelby squeezed the syringe in her fist and threw it against the wall breaking it into a million pieces. She walked to the roof, defeated by the woman she had fallen in love with...again. Taking a deep, depressed breath, Shelby reached into the beat up cooler by her lawn chair and pulled out a pint of whiskey and threw back a pull when she heard a single rifle shot. She squint her eyes as she looked in the general direction of the sound until she saw two silhouettes. Pulling a scoped rifle that Waylin used as a sniper rifle from the case in between their lawn chairs she peered through the scope.
Adjusting it to its highest setting if 12x, “That fucking bitch,” she thumbed the safety to the fire position and put her finger lightly against the trigger. “Fuck that,” she flipped the safety back on, “I'll show her, no way will I allow her to just disappear again.” She snatched up the whiskey and threw back another shot before whipping it against the old air conditioning unit smashing the bottle to bits. Yanking open the door she stomped down the stairs to her apartment.
Grabbing two handfuls of hair she screamed, looking in the mirror, “Why? What is wrong with me?” Shelby removed her bloody pajama pants and tank top them fetched her leather armor from the closet. She paused as she held it in front of her, someone always dies when I put this on. With an exaggerated breath she poured herself into the leather outfit, memories of her past flooded her thoughts bringing an evil grin. She quickly ran a brush through her hair, the blood stains jerked her head as the brush separates the strands of reddish spatters in her blonde hair. She pulled her hair back and put her aviator sunglasses on top of her head. Opening her top dresser drawer, her trusty 1911 lay dormant in wait. She gripped the pistol and racked the slide then holstered it. Making sure to grab two extra loaded mags and attaching them to her belt alongside her Kukri. A dagger found a new home just under her bosom. She slung a duffel bag over her shoulder, taking notice of the teddy bear Steve had given Eliza on the floor next to her bed. Shelby put the bear in her duffle bag and head down to her shop. In the bottom drawer of her toolbox she pulled out a rolled up pouch of tool. Tools she and Calypso haf used in the past.
Waylon had seen her walk by his office, “Fuck me, this ain't good.” He watched as Shelby put the pouch in her duffle bag.
“Don't fucking look at me like that Waylon. You know what I gave up, what I went through for Eliza. I will be DAMNED if she's just gonna walk away and disappear again.”
Waylon held up his hands, “Just be careful Shelby. Don't forget, I risked it all to save you too. You do what you have to.”
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