"Hey, Boss." Twist holds up a wanted poster in one hand, an NCR-printed newspaper in the other. Lucinda's mugshot looms large on the front of the newspaper, and she's been eclipsed by the reward--now over $14,000--on the wanted poster. "They have a whole article on you in the newspaper."
"What does it say?" Lucinda asks, leans back against the porch railing to light a cigarette.
"Hold on a sec," Twist agrees. "Let me find the good parts."
"I can wait." Lucinda nods, takes a drag.
"Alright," Twist mumbles, scans down the page. "'The Lady Legate of the Legion.'"
"I'm not a Legate," Lucinda says immediately.
"Good enough," Twist laughs, shrugs. "'She has been accused of a laundry list of crimes: terrorism, theft, assassination, murder, and most tellingly, cannibalism." Twist looks up from under her raised eyebrows. Lucinda shrugs, grimaces. "And now most recently, of butchering an entire ranger station singlehandedly."
"So you can see how bad their information is."
"She came to the NCR in 2276, after the first battle of the Dam, claiming to be a refugee, escaping her husband, a Legion officer."
"That was my story," Lucinda says, sinks down to the ground, rests her elbows on her knees. “I’d still swear by it.” Twist almost-laughs before she continues.
"She quickly disappeared into the backroads and small towns of the NCR, becoming little more than another nameless courier among hundreds of others--but where did she come from?"
"Oh my god, are they gonna try for the 'all tribals are baby-eating savages' angle? I thought we were past that."
Twist hums, skims a few more lines.
"Looks like. Say you're probably from a southern tribe too."
"Well, they're not exactly wrong, but I feel bad for anyone in any tribe they actually mean. What else are they saying?"
Twist snorts, scans a few more lines.
"Nutjob paper. Now they're asking if you have magic powers, since you killed the president and all his guards without ever getting caught."
"Magic called pre-war military tech." Lucinda shifts, takes another drag on her cigarette. "Maybe I got my magic powers from eating babies."
"That's their next guess," Twist laughs. "'Or perhaps she gained her power by drinking the blood of her victims, much like the pre-war mythical vampire.'"
"Blood is not fun to drink." Lucinda shakes her head. "I've tried brahmin blood and I can't imagine human blood is any better."
It's Twist's turn to snort.
"Could always turn it into sausage."
"If you wanna drown it in ten pounds of filler."
"What else you gonna do with the liver? Fry it up, eat it plain?"
"Done it before," Lucinda replies, flicks her cigarette.
"Better in a sausage."
"Wimp." Lucinda grins.
Twist snorts again, rolls her eyes, leans back on her own railing. She folds the newspaper up, turns it in her hands to study Lucinda's photo from every angle she can. It's faded from the photo on the wanted poster, like someone copied it, badly.
"Dredge was right. You were cute. Little kid cute."
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (83a/?)
"What does it say?" Lucinda asks, leans back against the porch railing to light a cigarette.
"Hold on a sec," Twist agrees. "Let me find the good parts."
"I can wait." Lucinda nods, takes a drag.
"Alright," Twist mumbles, scans down the page. "'The Lady Legate of the Legion.'"
"I'm not a Legate," Lucinda says immediately.
"Good enough," Twist laughs, shrugs. "'She has been accused of a laundry list of crimes: terrorism, theft, assassination, murder, and most tellingly, cannibalism." Twist looks up from under her raised eyebrows. Lucinda shrugs, grimaces. "And now most recently, of butchering an entire ranger station singlehandedly."
"So you can see how bad their information is."
"She came to the NCR in 2276, after the first battle of the Dam, claiming to be a refugee, escaping her husband, a Legion officer."
"That was my story," Lucinda says, sinks down to the ground, rests her elbows on her knees. “I’d still swear by it.” Twist almost-laughs before she continues.
"She quickly disappeared into the backroads and small towns of the NCR, becoming little more than another nameless courier among hundreds of others--but where did she come from?"
"Oh my god, are they gonna try for the 'all tribals are baby-eating savages' angle? I thought we were past that."
Twist hums, skims a few more lines.
"Looks like. Say you're probably from a southern tribe too."
"Well, they're not exactly wrong, but I feel bad for anyone in any tribe they actually mean. What else are they saying?"
Twist snorts, scans a few more lines.
"Nutjob paper. Now they're asking if you have magic powers, since you killed the president and all his guards without ever getting caught."
"Magic called pre-war military tech." Lucinda shifts, takes another drag on her cigarette. "Maybe I got my magic powers from eating babies."
"That's their next guess," Twist laughs. "'Or perhaps she gained her power by drinking the blood of her victims, much like the pre-war mythical vampire.'"
"Blood is not fun to drink." Lucinda shakes her head. "I've tried brahmin blood and I can't imagine human blood is any better."
It's Twist's turn to snort.
"Could always turn it into sausage."
"If you wanna drown it in ten pounds of filler."
"What else you gonna do with the liver? Fry it up, eat it plain?"
"Done it before," Lucinda replies, flicks her cigarette.
"Better in a sausage."
"Wimp." Lucinda grins.
Twist snorts again, rolls her eyes, leans back on her own railing. She folds the newspaper up, turns it in her hands to study Lucinda's photo from every angle she can. It's faded from the photo on the wanted poster, like someone copied it, badly.
"Dredge was right. You were cute. Little kid cute."
"I look like my mother." Lucinda sighs.
"Then she was cute too." Twist shrugs.