Stitches

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

In between working on my art blog and packing for university, I'm finding it difficult to get some free time to write. I'll hopefully do one big post after the weekend to catch up on everyone's replies.

Riverswell University; Sanctuary and Learning Center for Demi-Gods and Hybrids

Sorry guys, in between packing for uni and working on my art blog I've not got a lot of time to write. I'm working on a collab with @CMDR Melander and I've been holding her up, but I'll try and write after the weekend.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Did brandy not notice summer in the diner? I don't mind either way, I just want to know if it was a mistake or intentional so I can work it into my next post.

Riverswell University; Sanctuary and Learning Center for Demi-Gods and Hybrids

I also thought you were all crowding around the same door that Jackie's been knocking on, hence why Abigail got pissy at you for blocking the hallway. I went back and double checked the posts to be sure before I replied.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Summer - Diner

At best, Summer was hoping to get enough coffee to sharpen up her sluggish reflexes and perform some half-assed self surgery. She was definitely not expecting the kindness she received and, by the looks of her surprised then immediately wary expression, she was not used to getting such treatment at all. After she made an unconvincing impression of a simple patron the man working behind the counter had sent off what appeared to be his friend - for reinforcements, most likely - as Summer heard what was either the clink of a glass or the click of the safety on a pistol. She expected a gun and got a glass of water, then a few washcloths. Summer blinked, entirely thrown off guard by this new development. She gingerly grabbed the rags and shoved them into the water. It was clear by her drunken movements and the pallor of her skin that she most likely lost a fair amount of blood just getting here. To say that Summer was 'in bad shape' at this point was an understatement.

Slapping the sodden rags over the worst of her wounds, Summer sighed as a hunk of ice in a cloth was then offered to her and she used her other hand to press it against her black eye and just on the edge of her broken nose which prompted a sharp hiss of pain. She took her time in answering the question as she enjoyed feeling a little less shitty, then decided to speak in a croaky and sullen voice. "Not that I know of, they thought I was dead..." She tried to laugh in vain. It was a few half-hearted wheezes. "...They're gonna wish they were right once I'm done with 'em," Summer slurred with an edge of anger in her voice. She slipped her gaze to stare Ace down with a frown. "Very hospitable, for a wastelander," she noted idly. "I hope your 'friends' are as nice as you are." The emphasis was audible on friends. She wore no armour (which was most likely why she was in such a poor state to being with) and was clearly armed with what looked like an institute rifle with all sorts of modifications done to it, as if it had been taken apart and put back together several times over with some new and deadly component. Her chest rose and fell shakily and she didn't touch her water unless she was washing the rags of her blood.

For a moment, Summer's bitterness subsided as she looked around the diner with only the slightest movements of her head and asked "Where am I?" with a tinge of worry in her voice. She sat up a little straighter and flinched at the pain as she did so, continuing to look at Ace with mistrust but never making a single move for her weapon.

Riverswell University; Sanctuary and Learning Center for Demi-Gods and Hybrids

"C'mon kiddo, get out."

"No."

A greying man leant against the side of the car with a crumpled cigarette hung lazily between his fingers. Sat in the passenger seat was Abigail Chadling, a lanky blonde woman with her arms folded stubbornly over her seatbelt as she glowered at the dashboard. The older man sighed, "Abi for god's sake..." as he leant down and knocked on the window a couple of times to give the girl a deadpan stare. "We've been through this. Home for Christmas, it's only a couple months. Now stop being a little bitch," he unlocked the door and pulled it open with one fluid movement, "And get the fuck out of my car."

Abigail whined "But dad, I-" and cut herself off at the look on his face. She started working on the seatbelt, her tone of voice low and bitter as she asked "What if they don't let me out at Christmas?" Her father perked a brow and let loose a husky chuckle. Abigail straightened out her clothes and went to grab her bags.

"You'll be home for Christmas anyway. Don't get caught?" Abigail's father helped her with her bags but Abigail insistently grabbed them all, far too many for a girl of her stature to be able to carry them. Her father's smile faded. "...Want me to walk you in?" Abigail stared at him and then shook her head, biting her lower lip.

"I wouldn't want you to leave if you did," she admitted sourly. Her father brought her into a one-armed hug as he flicked the cigarette butt away and rested his chin on the top of her head, sighing. A quick kiss on her forehead and a friendly hair ruffle as Abigail whispered "Bye" before he climbed into the car and started the engine. Abigail shifted all her bags to balance on her shoulder - again, something that should be physically impossible - as she wiped at her face with her free hand. She didn't look back. She wandered the worn cobblestone path alone and by the time she reached the campus, Abigail had regained her composure and looked up at the building with contempt. "Alright you sons of bitches..." She made a loud hacking noise as she mustered up as much mucus from her throat as she could gather and spat on the steps. "...You wanted Abigail Chadling? You're gonna fucking get Abigail motherfuckin' Chadling."

"Move it, kiddies!" hollered Abigail as she wandered in with at least 5 bags and suitcases in her arms. Her head poked out of the side, bright blue eyes scanning the roommate list with scrutiny. "Any of you called Saranja or Owen?...No? Fine." She huffed and spun around wither her suitcases, beginning to climb the stairs on her own. The corridors were long and broke off into many pathways, pathways which Abigail would have to eventually memorise if she had a hope in hell of getting around easily. There was a group of students all crowded around one door and almost, ALMOST blocking the corridor. Knowing that she couldn't hope to get the heap of bags past all of these people she just hurled them over their heads, listening to the clatter and thud of her precious belongings hitting the floor. She stared down the group with open, unabashed hostility; especially the girl with the funny legs. "Centaur, huh?" she said casually. "My dad fucked a horse too. You dipshits know how to use a door or are you just gonna take up all the room out here?"

Abigail didn't even wait for an answer. She scooped up her suitcase, then the other with one hand and the other and the other until she was carrying all of them in one arm. "See you in class," she muttered coldly as she went to her room, kicked open the door, picked a bed and immediately started to claim space with her stuff. Mainly clothes but also several books, a battered house plant and all sorts of electrical appliances like hairdryers and phone chargers and an iron and god knows what else. It looked like she packed for a long stay.

Riverswell University; Sanctuary and Learning Center for Demi-Gods and Hybrids

First Name: Abigail
Surname: Chadling
Nickname: Abi
Gender: Female
Species: Demi-Goddess, Daughter of Celtic Deity Epona

Personality: An extroverted asshole. Abigail typically makes friends fast and often, but she's just as quick to judge and if she doesn't like you, she will make it known. Frequently. Abigail speaks her mind regardless of who she's with or what her situation is and doesn't seem to care much about getting into trouble. Whilst verbally aggressive, Abigail avoids physical fights whenever possible. Gain her trust and she'll be a loyal friend. Abigail is quite the hypocrite, often questioning the sensibility of other people's actions whilst going out and doing stupid things herself. She has a short attention span to go with her short temper and her inquisitive nature borders on nosiness. Luckily, her stubbornness knows no bounds.

Hobbies: Gardening, Horse Riding, Gym, Going out with friends

Abilities:
- Horse 'Whisperer': ANY member of the Equidae Family is flat out obsessed with Abigail. This means that any horse, donkey or zebra that spots Abigail will gallop over and not leave her alone until she's out of their eyesight. On the plus side, it means Abigail can easily play and ride these animals, but there have been incidents of broken stables and fences.

- Feet of Fertility: The ground where Abigail walks barefooted will spring into life, regardless of its condition. Mosses and weeds will sprout up on the concrete, or mould and fungus on the bathroom tiles. It's becoming a bit of a biohazard.

- Packmule: Abigail is capable of carrying much heavier loads than usual...provided they're in some sort of backpack or bag.

- Harvest Hands: Whenever Abigail picks a plant like a flower, it will immediately grow and bloom in her hand. Most crops she pulls out of the earth become fully mature and ready to eat. This spell only works if the plant is actually plucked from the earth and unable to continue growing naturally due to the fact Abigail ripped it out.

Extra: Can't swim. Fears drowning.

Riverswell University; Sanctuary and Learning Center for Demi-Gods and Hybrids

You people type quickly. The wonders of living in a different time zone, I guess! I'll reply after breakfast.

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

"Well. That's..."

Summer ran the sleeve of her jacket under her bloodied nose, frowning at the corpse spread out next to her in the dirt.

"...Unfortunate."

Somewhere north of Salem lay approximately 6 bodies, each in various states of disrepair and all but one of them were definitely dead. 4 raiders, one child of atom and a redhead who had managed to prop herself up on her elbows with a hiss of pain and a scowl painted on her lips. This was Summer; or at least whatever was left of her after the ambush where she was quickly knocked unconscious. Her gaze settled grimly on her travelling companion, the child of atom who had fallen next to her and had clearly taken one handful of bullets too many to survive until she woke up. He was a broad-shouldered, irradiated brute of a man with the features that only an inbreed could be burdened with. His weapons and ammo and caps were gone. Summer knew because the first thing she did was redistribute weight onto one of her arms and use the other to try and loot her friend's body. Summer then proceeded to check her own pockets to make sure she had everything on hand and, by some stroke of luck (or perhaps the efforts of her companion) she had managed to retain the important things. Weapon, ammo, money.

Summer knew how to hide things from simpletons because it mainly involved making something that looks vaguely dangerous and adding a few flashing lights on it to show that whatever it is, it could still explode. Make a box out of scrap and use a fusion cell to power a couple of old LED lights, maybe a simple circuit that cuts the flow of electricity and makes said lights flicker ominously and you've got yourself a raider-proof purse. Nobody wants to pick up a machine and hear it rattle and watch those lights flicker on and off. They left the 'bombs' on her and decided to take the safer route which mainly involved stealing literally anything else that could be useful. Frankly, Summer was glad she still had clothes. The lack of boots was going to be an issue.

After a quick physical self-checkup (Diagnosis: Fucked) Summer tried her hand at standing up, then promptly opted to sit for a while longer. The bodies were fresh enough and it didn't look like the bloatflies had caught on to their presence, so Summer assumed that she had been out for a few hours at most. Nevertheless that was a few hours of bleeding and bullet wounds, and also a few hours of being exposed to whatever the wasteland decided to toss at her limp, slumbering body while she was out of it. Summer ran a hand through her hair which was greasy and clumped together with sweat and blood. Summer wiggled her toes and listened to the low whistle of the wind across the commonwealth. She crawled over to the nearest raider, expecting little and finding nothing. Nothing on any of the bodies; picked clean by the scavengers.

Then it occurred to Summer that her bag was gone. Her research notes - gone. All of her equipment gone as well. Just a souped-up laser rifle, a handful of caps, some spare ammo and an impulse to go after those sons of bitches and take back what's hers. That tight-chested familiar feeling of anger bubbled up within her and gave her the strength she needed to stand. She gave the child of atom a couple of nudges with her boot, frowning slightly. "You should've saved the bag," she growled at his body, "All that research on the effects of heavy irradiation's gone to shit because of you."

After those thoughtful parting words, Summer turned towards the vague direction of south and started limping towards Salem.

Summer - Late Morning - Salem Diner

Dive bars were difficult. Dive bars were shady and hostile and usually full of people trying to kill you. From Summer's wealth of past experience, dive bars were arguably more dangerous than the commonwealth itself because they tended to be full of airheaded brutes and conniving sleazebags alike. Nobody wants to walk into a dive bar and show any sign of weakness. Instead, Summer always preferred to stick to the diners, because they operate during broad daylight, they are colourful and attract nice people like families and settlers willing to help out. It was the most logical choice, but perhaps not the best one she could have taken given the circumstances.

Instead of the usual crowd of sleepy morning travellers looking for their full English, a dirty and bloodied woman took a moment to carefully dust off her jacket and trousers before entering the establishment. Her clothes were riddled with holes and blooms of reddish-brown blood. She had a black eye and a broken nose and a stare so cold she could've plunged half the commonwealth into a nuclear winter if she tried hard enough. She didn't try to look friendly or approachable, she just eased herself into one of the booths (laying out her jacket and sitting on it to avoid dirtying up the diner any more than usual) and toyed with one of the menus half-heartedly, not really bothering to read it. She looked like she needed to gather her bearings before she could tackle a difficult task like trying to read a menu.

Riverswell University; Sanctuary and Learning Center for Demi-Gods and Hybrids

Mind you, they'd probably need a gardener or a designated moss-scraper to get rid of all the little plants and weeds Abigail grows. This isn't some sort of Persephone-esque garden of wonders blooming under Abigail's feet - essentially whatever could probably grow will grow no matter what it is she steps on. To simplify it, walking on wooden planks indoors would probably grow mould and fungus and ironically make the wood rot. :D

I wonder where the GM is, though. You're right, there are lots of sheets that need approval, and I kind of want to see who gets paired up with Abigail.