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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (3g/?)
Date: 2016-02-23 10:39 pm (UTC)“So, Boss, where you from?” Dredge asks, as they approach the requisitions counter, near Siri’s bar. Siri is elbows deep in glasses and full plates, men laughing and cursing at the bar and the nearby tables. Lucinda flashes her a smile when their eyes meet, and Siri looks away, ginning.
“Tribe traveled,” she replies, steps up to the counter. “Doesn’t matter now,” she says, louder, as she looks the requisition officer in the eye. “I need three machetes and three hunting rifles, and thirty rounds for each rifle.”
“Under whose authority?” the officer asks, wrinkles his nose as he looks at Twist, looming behind Lucinda with her arms crossed over her chest, at Dredge, hovering at Twist’s elbow, picking at her nails and studying the crates behind him, at Burn just to Lucinda’s side, studying the bird in Lucinda's hood.
Lucinda sighs.
“I’m under Vulpes Inculta’s branch of the frumentarii, I’ve just been promoted. Do you need me to call him over here and confirm?”
“That’s not necessary,” the officer says, leans forward on his forearm. Lucinda can smell his breath all the way across the counter. “What's your name?” he asks, leers.
“Lucia, though you might know me better as the Daughter of Mars.” Lucinda leans in, meets his eyes. “Now I would appreciate it if you would follow my orders, officer.”
“Don’t get your panties all in a twist,” the officer replies, steps back. “I’ll do it, fine.” He turns to get the machetes and the rifles, and Dredge leans in to talk to Lucinda again.
“Where all’d you travel?”
“Old Matamoros, north to the edge of the Great Lakes,” Lucinda replies.
“Your tribe adopt you?” Dredge asks, steps around Twist so she’s next to Lucinda. Twist takes a half step back, gives them room.
“My mother. East Lonestar born.”
“Never met anyone born in your tribe,” Dredge replies. “Had a few girls leave for one of yours, but ain’t met anyone born to it.”
“Well, now you have.”
The requisition officer turns around, carries three machetes by loops in one hand three rifles by straps in the other.
“Here’s your equipment,” he says, drops it on the counter. “You need anything else.”
“Ammunition,” Lucinda reminds him, taps the magazine on one of the rifles.
He grabs three cardboard boxes from under the counter, drops them next to the rifles.
“Is that all?” he asks again.
“That is, yeah,” Lucinda agrees. She gathers up the rifles, passes one to each of the women behind her, then passes them a machete and a box each. “Well, unless you have .45-70 in stock.”
He grabs and drops another box.
“That’s all,” Lucinda says, nods. Turns her back on him to survey her team.
Dredge already has the rifle slung over her shoulder, the box wedged carefully into the waistband of her pants as she adjusts everything else, the machete slung from a belt loop. Twist has her gear arranged the same, though her ammunition is tucked into a pocket on her coat instead. Burn has her rifle strap diagonal across her chest, but her machete in easy reach. Good enough, they can work on that on the way to the ranch.
“Let’s go,” she says, waves them back toward the gate. “Hope you don’t mind the river.”
“Shit, I love rivers,” Dredge laughs. “Can we go swimming?”
“If you can convince Lucullus to let you jump off the side of the raft, sure.” Lucinda snorts, and Dredge laughs again, big and loud and real. “Watch for lakelurks.”