“Legion doesn’t notice the bird,” Twist says. It might be a question, btu the inflection is wrong. Lucinda looks her in the eye, tries to evaluate.
“People raise birds because they’re a bit odd, not because it’s a three-century tribal tradition.”
Twist’s face barely moves, but one corner of her mouth twitches up.
“You take that sort of view on everything?” Nose-Woman asks, putters over to toe at the trapdoor down into the bunker.
“Not everything,” Lucinda replies. “But a fair number of things.”
“And they really don’t know?” Nose-Woman asks.
“A tribe of just women isn’t a tribe,” Lucinda replies. “Legion only knows tribe inheritance for fathers and sons, never thought about grandmothers and mothers and aunts and daughters.”
Against the console, Dice Pouch nods, looks past Twist at the splintering fake-wood panelling.
“Women aren’t people enough to have traditions,” she says, voice quiet. “My mother taught me a few things, but not enough.”
“Born Legion?” Lucidna asks.
Dice Pouch nods.
“She was too, but my grandmother was tribe. Out of Pine Ridge.”
“Them’s my folks too,” Nose-Woman says, grin splitting her face. “Well, we were further west, up into the Sierra Madres. But we probably come from the same folks, somewhere. You heard the stories about--”
Lucinda stiffens at the name Sierra Madre, feels her shoulders hunch before she can stop them. Nose-Woman and Dice Pouch are watching each other, ignoring her, Nose-Woman with her eyes wide and face open, Dice Pouch with open ears and curious eyes. Twist is watching Lucinda though. Sees the twitch. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let her face move. Just watches.
Lucinda stares back, meets her gaze steady and silent.
They hold for a long moment, Nose-Woman’s words buzzing in their ears and filling up the silence.
Twist nods, looks away first, levers herself off the door and drops her arms from her chest to shove her hands in her pockets.
“Hey, Dredge,” she says, over Nose-Woman, who’s on to some story about three boys on top of a sugarloaf in Flatwater, whatever the fuck a sugarloaf is. “Talk later. Have things to do.”
“Right, shit, yeah,” Nose-Woman--Dredge Lucinda thinks, tries to settle that name to her face. “So, Boss, where we off to?” she asks, turns to grin at Lucinda.
“Dredge?” Lucinda asks, checks to make sure.
“Yes ma’am. Coupla the boys took to callin’ me that, ‘cause they weren’t sure where the tribe dredged me up outta, see. I ain’t like the rest of em. Laid down quiet, but won’t quiet down after that. No good at the womanly shit, either. Can patch a hole in a shirt, field dress a buffalo, ride a fuckin’ buffalo if I get the mind to, but I ain’t got the touch for all the real mind-y stuff. Had a husband for that. He got on real well before the Legion, doubt he gets along at all nowadays.” She goes somber for a moment, ducks her head before popping back up, grinning. “But they figure the tribe musta dredged me up outta some river or some shit, since I ain’t like the rest of ‘em, even though I was born and raised with ‘em.”
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timeasmymeasure
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (3e/?)
Date: 2016-02-23 10:32 pm (UTC)“Legion doesn’t notice the bird,” Twist says. It might be a question, btu the inflection is wrong. Lucinda looks her in the eye, tries to evaluate.
“People raise birds because they’re a bit odd, not because it’s a three-century tribal tradition.”
Twist’s face barely moves, but one corner of her mouth twitches up.
“You take that sort of view on everything?” Nose-Woman asks, putters over to toe at the trapdoor down into the bunker.
“Not everything,” Lucinda replies. “But a fair number of things.”
“And they really don’t know?” Nose-Woman asks.
“A tribe of just women isn’t a tribe,” Lucinda replies. “Legion only knows tribe inheritance for fathers and sons, never thought about grandmothers and mothers and aunts and daughters.”
Against the console, Dice Pouch nods, looks past Twist at the splintering fake-wood panelling.
“Women aren’t people enough to have traditions,” she says, voice quiet. “My mother taught me a few things, but not enough.”
“Born Legion?” Lucidna asks.
Dice Pouch nods.
“She was too, but my grandmother was tribe. Out of Pine Ridge.”
“Them’s my folks too,” Nose-Woman says, grin splitting her face. “Well, we were further west, up into the Sierra Madres. But we probably come from the same folks, somewhere. You heard the stories about--”
Lucinda stiffens at the name Sierra Madre, feels her shoulders hunch before she can stop them. Nose-Woman and Dice Pouch are watching each other, ignoring her, Nose-Woman with her eyes wide and face open, Dice Pouch with open ears and curious eyes. Twist is watching Lucinda though. Sees the twitch. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let her face move. Just watches.
Lucinda stares back, meets her gaze steady and silent.
They hold for a long moment, Nose-Woman’s words buzzing in their ears and filling up the silence.
Twist nods, looks away first, levers herself off the door and drops her arms from her chest to shove her hands in her pockets.
“Hey, Dredge,” she says, over Nose-Woman, who’s on to some story about three boys on top of a sugarloaf in Flatwater, whatever the fuck a sugarloaf is. “Talk later. Have things to do.”
“Right, shit, yeah,” Nose-Woman--Dredge Lucinda thinks, tries to settle that name to her face. “So, Boss, where we off to?” she asks, turns to grin at Lucinda.
“Dredge?” Lucinda asks, checks to make sure.
“Yes ma’am. Coupla the boys took to callin’ me that, ‘cause they weren’t sure where the tribe dredged me up outta, see. I ain’t like the rest of em. Laid down quiet, but won’t quiet down after that. No good at the womanly shit, either. Can patch a hole in a shirt, field dress a buffalo, ride a fuckin’ buffalo if I get the mind to, but I ain’t got the touch for all the real mind-y stuff. Had a husband for that. He got on real well before the Legion, doubt he gets along at all nowadays.” She goes somber for a moment, ducks her head before popping back up, grinning. “But they figure the tribe musta dredged me up outta some river or some shit, since I ain’t like the rest of ‘em, even though I was born and raised with ‘em.”
Lucinda nods.