![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
falloutkinkmeme_backupWelcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.
- Fallout Kink Meme posting guidelines
- Read something? Love something? No matter how old the story is, please let our amazing authors and artists know that you enjoyed their work with a nice comment, and share the love by recommending your favorite fills!
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (41b/?)
Date: 2016-04-15 03:06 pm (UTC)Lucinda throws herself across the room, wraps her arms around the old woman. The old woman obliges, hugs Lucinda's waist, leans back and lifts her feet from the ground. She laughs, and Siri can’t tell which of them makes the soft noise in the back of her throat.
“I didn’t think you'd live,” Lucinda murmurs. “I thought they would--like they did to--”
“Old woman who knows the changing of the seasons?” the priestess laughs again, sets Lucinda back on her feet. “Old woman who’s seen enough births and deaths she knows the score? Old woman who keeps her mouth shut? The Legion has a place for a woman like that.”
“I thought I was the last one,” Lucinda whispers, so soft that SIri can barely hear that, too.
“Oh no, Little Bird,” the priestess responds, runs her hand over Lucinda’s braid, tugs on it, grins wide. “There are always more of us. We can catch up on your business later, though, you and I. Just as soon as I’ve met this lovely young woman you’ve brought with you?”
“Siri, ma’am,” Siri replies, tucks her chin into her chest and folds her hands in front of herself.
“A beautiful name for a lovely woman,” the priestess response, grins wider. She’s missing teeth, though it's not clear if they rotted or were knocked out, it could be either. “Our Raven picks her women well.”
“I--thank you.” She’s not sure how to respond--this woman knows Lucinda, or did at one time, at least. They talk like they haven’t seen each other in years, so--Dog Town? Before? Has to be before, or she would call Lucinda by one of the light names--Lucinda, Lucy, Lucia.
“And who are you, in her contubernium?”
“I’m the doctor. I never finished my medical training, but I know first aid, and many of the tribal remedies, and--” she presses her hand to the spine of her latest textbook, slung in her bag. “And I’m learning more.”
“And do you have a bird?” the priestess asks.
“No, ma’am,” Siri responds.
“How long have you known--” the priestess pauses for a moment, considers Lucinda. “What name do you use for her?”
“She’s only known me as Lucinda,” Lucinda interjects. She leans on the priestess again, wraps her arms around her and presses her nose into the woman’s shoulder, breathes deep. The old woman pats her back, between her shoulder blades. “She calls me Lucy.”
“How long have you known Lucy, then?” the priestess asks, grinning.
“A year, now,” Siri replies. “We--we met at the Fort. I was serving as the doctor, and she came through on assignment. We spent some time together and got to be--friends.”
“She saved my life,” Lucinda clarifies, lets go of her hug, bends over to tug her pants leg higher and slide her gaiters lower, to show off the scar that covers her entire left shin. “I stepped on a bear trap, it went septic. She stabilized it and saved me from dying of gangrene.”
“You did, did you?” the priestess asks, looks to Siri, raises her eyebrows. Looks fascinated, almost congratulatory.