Someone wrote in [personal profile] falloutkinkmeme_backup 2014-10-06 10:30 am (UTC)

Turn Wounds into Wisdom 12c/?

“So you’re telling me not to hate?” Tara’s voice was hoarse.
“No. I am telling you not to let your hate consume and blind you.”
Tara took a deep breath. “I got the feeling that my hate is the only thing keeping me going right now, just to be able to kill him some day.”
“Then let it”, Vincent said simply. “Right here and now, if it is all that keeps you going, let it. But once we are safe, you need to focus on other things.” His voice trailed off, he wasn’t sure if what he said was really helpful, and even less how this could be achieved for her. But he had founded hopes that the Followers would be able to help her deal with her trauma, and he also knew she had the strength to pick herself up again and go on. Not at once, maybe, but at some point in the near future.

After another long silence he suggested they should set out again, and following the last rays of the setting sun they continued their way over the ridge of rocky hills that separated them from the Colorado River.

They crossed the river at Laughlin, a ghost town of windswept, empty ruins of houses that no one ever had attempted to rebuild since the Great War. The Bridge was as ancient and rotting as the houses, held together only by cobwebs and wishes, but they made it across the waters despite it. They needed to, as following the Colorado on the eastern shore would mean travelling too close to the deathclaw breeding grounds.

After their crossing they turned northwards, following the river now, and when they made camp again Vincent felt his spirits rise the tiniest bit. They were already almost halfway home and the worst they would have to deal with now were lakelurks; and as long as they kept down to the river’s edge they would not run into any patrolling securitrons.

Vincent knew he would have to cross the Colorado one more time swimming, somewhat south of Hoover Dam, to get to the little stash where he had hidden his other gun, more provisions and his armour. It had been a necessity; he couldn’t have crossed the Dam in Legion attire, and he had needed to make all haste he could, meaning he had to go down the I 93. Yet he hoped that shouldn’t impede them longer than one or two hours.

x-x-x-x-x-x


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