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falloutkinkmeme_backupWelcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.
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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (103a/109b)
Date: 2016-09-01 12:42 am (UTC)“Get all the things they confiscated from me when i came in, keep them somewhere I can find them, and bring me a screwdriver, four bobby pins, and my knife in the holster. That’s all I need.” She shoves her mouth full of bread. “Bring me that, make it look like I could have gotten it off of any of the guards, and we’ll be in the clear.”
“I can swing that, or something close enough. I can get the knife and your things into a locker out there,” she jerks her thumb at the closed door, and behind it a guard laughs at something another said, “But I think the best knife or screwdriver I can get you is a shiv that can double as both.”
“A long as it has an edge and I can turn a lock with it, that'll be fine.”
“Good. Expect it sometime tomorrow.” The woman nods, steps away, leans against the wall until Lucinda and the spy pass their trays out the bars. She sweeps out, doesn't look back. Lucinda turns to the wall, and starts working through what she remembers of the floorplan.
“You weren’t born Legion,” the spy says. She sighs, shifts.
“No,” Lucinda agrees. They’re both quiet. “Tribal, to the southeast,” Lucinda finally says, when it’s clear the spy is waiting for more of an answer.
“What tribe?’ the spy asks.
“Birds, most people called us, never had a real name for ourselves outside of that.” She stretches her arms out to her sides, can't quite reach the walls of the cell. She curls her hands into fists, studies the dark ceiling. “I have a girl I want to get back to, and a raven that’s depending on me, probably.” She tucks her arms back across her chest, holds her upper arms in her hands. “I tried to teach her to forage on her own, but I worry.”
“You all keep birds like that?”
“Yeah,” Lucinda agrees.
“It sounds nice.”
“Until they shit all over you and try to steal your food, it is, yeah.”
The spy laughs.
“Why a raven? Why not something like--I don’t know, a bluejay? Or a sparrow? Or a hawk?”
“Because that’s my name, in the tribe. That’s what I do. I’m smart, I’m a leader, however you want to phrase it. So I have a raven.”
“Is your girl tribe too?”
“She’s not. Not yet, at least. I’d like her to be, and I think she’d agree to it.” She lets that hang for a moment, breathes loudly to fill the silence and keep the spy from saying anything more. “I have some things I need to do first, though. That’s the other reason I need to get out of here.”
“We all have shit we want to get done.”
“If my things arrive in time, I can get you out of here too. You don’t have to accept it.”
“Oh, I know I don’t have to accept it.” The spy sighs. “I wouldn’t get out, though. I know you think I could, but I couldn’t. I’d slow you down.”
They’re both silent for another long minute, and Lucinda sits up, scoots over to sit against the wall.
“I’ll be your distraction, though, if I can.”
“You don't have to,” Lucinda says. “I can get out on my own.”
“Are your chances better if I distract them?” the spy asks.
“Probably,” Lucinda agrees. “You don't even know me, you don’t know what I’ve--”
“You’re a raven right? You said it yourself, a smart bird, a leader bird. Someone out there can use you. You got this far and--god, I feel like I’m an inspiring monologue in a novel.”
Lucinda laughs.
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (103b/109b)
Date: 2016-09-01 12:44 am (UTC)“I’m not a raven anymore, though,” Lucinda says, tail end of a laugh trailing into somber tones. “Shrike, not raven, after some of the shit I’ve done.”
“Well, I can tell you straight away that if you’re getting a shiv, you won’t be leaving this place without bloodshed. That's what a shrike was, right?”
“Butcher bird,” Lucinda agrees.
“Lanius, huh?”
“I’m aware,” Lucinda says. “The first time I met him, I thought he would be a shrike, but here I am, with no room to talk.”
“Just because you have no room to talk doesn’t mean you're not right.”
Lucinda grunts, then goes quiet.
“When they come to get you, two guards, do you think?” she asks after a long minute of silence.
“Most likely.”
“So we hope they don’t come until after breakfast. I can take two of them, especially if you're being distracting.”
“Got it. Put up a fight, you come in and stab a couple of the bastards.”
“You got it.”
“Good. I’m ready.”
“I’m glad. Should sleep, though. Need to be well-rested for our breakout.”
The spy laughs, and then there’s the sound of a creaking bench, the shuffle of fabric.
Raven. Shrike. Which does she need to be here?
Raven can think her way out of the prison, slide her way past the guards with charm and a smile and careful timing, knows exactly how to twist things just how she needs them.
Shrike knows her battles, sees no problem in spilling blood, feels no qualms about going through a dead mans pockets for denarii and cigarettes and ammunition.
Needs both, for this escape attempt.
Needs both, if this is going to become something bigger than herself, if she’s going to kill Caesar, if she’s going to do right by the people she’s done wrong by, if she’s going to spit in Caesar’s and Lanius’s and Vulpes’s eyes.
Needs something bigger than either, needs something that’s both.
Needs a name made out of fear.