falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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So I am the only one who wonders if Ulysses just stays at Canyon Wreckage, or if maybe the Courier tries to get him to leave?

I don't mind if this is fluff, hurt and comfort or whatever, I just would like to see how that interaction would go. Either gender Courier is fine but I would like it to be a good or neutral karma one.

The wind was usually as quiet as the monsters that lurked in the Divide, but with its story told and a silent watcher on the cliff overlooking the canyon, it seemed tamer. Nothing could ever fully quiet the nuclear beast, and on occasion, one of the horrifying ticks that lurked on its surface would try to come crawling out. The Mojave wasn’t ready for that; maybe it never could be. That’s why Ulysses remained, a quiet, but vigilant guardian, mind wrapped up in stories and histories. It was difficult to tell if the man even ever slept or even needed it. Maybe the winds and the radiation had changed him too much, or maybe it hadn’t and he was just a man with ghosts and shadows that came out in times of subconscious creation.

The Courier’s visits were both a reprieve and a reminder. A reprieve from the boredom, a reminder of what could have been. A reprieve from his duties, a reminder of his burden. A reprieve from guilt, and a reminder of sins. Too many reminders in this place he could never leave, never abandon, so he took whatever reprieve he could get.

Sometimes, they would never talk. The Courier would just sit there beside the guardian, watching the beast that was once a beacon of hope, a bottle of...something between them. Could be anything, depending on the Courier’s mood. Water for neutral, cola for the good, alcohol for the bad. Once or twice, the drink wasn’t shared. Ulysses would be given a cola, while the Courier forced that wretched concoction of the Cloud down. Those times, Ulysses knew that the Courier was remembering and punishing. Suffering for sins in a place where no one, not enemy or companion, could see.
Other times, they would discuss histories. History of tribes long destroyed. Of the Old World. Of the Big Empty. Of his travels, of the Courier’s. Of the Bull, of the Bear, of Vegas. The talks let Ulysses pass on more knowledge. More stories that should be have been carried by more than just a guardian of a place that only the mad were trapped in. He would pass on recipes, things that could help the Courier. Things that could, if spread further, help the broken world heal just a little.

There was this one time they had discussed something else. It was a time when the Courier had brought a cola and the Cloud drink. Ulysses expected them to remain silent, and for several long hours, they did. They stared out at the broken canyon, watching the Marked wander about as they silently drank from their bottles. Then the Courier broke the silence with a single sentence. “Come with me.” Nothing seemed to have prompted it. The words were quiet, and Ulysses almost though he had imagined it. He turned his eyes away from the whispering canyon towards the Courier. The lonesome traveller continued quietly, glazed eyes still fixed on the happenings below. “The battle for the Dam will start soon. You could fight alongside us for a new future. And if you’re worried about the Marked Men or Tunnelers getting out, we could collapse the paths to the Divide. You don’t...You don’t have to stay here.”

He tried to say no. That he needed to stay. His road was traveled. He had no reason to be there any longer. The Courier looked over to him, eyes sharp. “How can you know that? Sure, we all walk our own roads, but who knows when they’re supposed to end? Who knows when they’ve reached the end unless they’re dead?”

He tried to put it in other terms. He was done travelling the roads now. He had passed on his message, his package, his burden, to the Courier. He was tired. The Courier’s eyes softened then, and the gaze returned to the canyon. The gaze was not like the one he had remembered. Of youthful energy and determination. It was a gaze that belonged to the old, the weary. The same one that was often on his own face. “So am I.” The Courier had whispered softly, barely audible over the wind. Perhaps it wasn’t even for his ears to hear.

Ulysses reached over and pulled the vile drink out of the Courier’s slackened hand. He tossed it into the Divide. As it fell, he merely held out the Sunset Sarsaparilla to the tired traveller. He said that there was still a road ahead but the end was near. It was a road that was meant for the Courier and the Mojave, but not a road for him. But if the Courier wanted a pit stop, there was always the Divide. And in the end, when the Courier’s road was over, he would be there. They both would be.

The Courier had reached out for the cola. The exhaustion wasn’t visible; maybe gone, maybe hidden. But they shared the cola then, and spoke of futures. Of New World Hope. And when the Courier had eventually left, Ulysses knew that the road the Courier took would always lead back here. And he would welcome the reprieve.

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A/N: Made Courier as ambiguous as possible, and all of Ulyssus' words into thoughts on purpose.

Title: Weary Hearts
Tags: Filled, Ulyssus, Courier, Gen. Relationship
Summary: The Courier tries to convince Ulysses to leave the Divide.

beautiful

so goooooood. You've captured Ulysses perfectly.

all my feelings, A!A ;_;

OP here and I love thos piece!

That was really beautiful, anon !

I really loved it. Well done, A!A !

This was gorgeous. Especially adored the sharing a drink, what depending on mood.

whoops im crying

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Ulysses/Courier- After the end

Weary Hearts [1/2]

Weary Hearts [2/2]

A!A Derp

beRe: A!A Derp

Re: Weary Hearts [2/2]

Re: Weary Hearts [2/2]

Re: Weary Hearts [2/2]

Re: Weary Hearts [2/2]

Re: Weary Hearts [2/2]

Re: Weary Hearts [2/2]

RE: Weary Hearts [2/2]