The general took the flier from their hands slowly, and patiently skimmed through the message, like the tick of a clock that counts millenia. What were mere moments? He seemed oddly serene in the midst of his happy soldiers, a piece of quiet beneath all the laughter and shouting. “Ah, good.” 

Another two shots rang through the air as other cannons were being tested, the light of the ensuing flames framed him in a warm and furious light for mere seconds. “You’re dismissed, soldier.” The young man who'd escorted Lucio straightened to a well rehearsed salute, then left just as quickly.

 “Let’s take a walk, you and I.” 

Yarik motioned for the vagrant to follow him with the elegant furl of his fingers. “We’ll only be disturbed if we go to my office.” These were matters for no one’s ears but his own, even Preston was only vaguely aware of what the ads had meant, though they tended not to push the envelope when it came to him. 

They passed the artillery-men at their stations and began to stroll from one side of the battlements to the next. The skies above them were clear, and aside from the smell billowing from the fires, the air was mostly clean.  “‘Glad you came. As I’m sure you’ve noticed by the flier, this isn’t the kind of ordinary grunt work we’re usually looking to hire for. This is something a little more- delicate. Maybe discreet is a better word for it, I guess.”

Just as quickly as they'd come, the soldier who had escorted him up here was dismissed. Dutifully taking his leave of the two. Though amidst a small crowd of bustling soldiers for the time being, it still felt... encapsulated. To Lucio anyway. The other soldiers just background noise.

And as he's bid to follow, Lucio does. Following beside this General a step back and to the side. Letting him lead; close, but not too close.

Such was the curse of being a leader. There was barely any privacy afforded. Every little problem set before you. Your solutions biblical, words clung to like scripture.

The smell of smoke takes him to someplace far away, even as this General spoke, his eyes seemed to linger on the destroyed and burning across the way. His brain searching for the sharp stench of burning rubber but finding no trace.

'Discreet' or 'delicate'.

"I am no stranger to delicate nor discreet. Though I do wonder what it is the General wants with discreet hands. I've held to that paper for a little while now. Perhaps your ad was too discrete."

Or it attracted just the right type of person.

@amberedcorpse

“No trouble at all, sweetheart!” 

There was a clear softness to her stare that colored her expression with more than a little tenderness, as if she’d come upon another wayward soul. Their skittishness struck everyone who passed as the sign of some murky past. Not surprising in the least, as a lot of people had come to the Castle in the same state, and their General had remained steadfast in letting them in. 

Show them the road and they’ll learn to walk it. 

She gently placed the fresh cup in his hands, grinning to herself as hope rekindled in the center of her chest. A little good here and there could mean a world of a difference. Perhaps the General will show them the way indeed. 

The guard returned a short while after and called on the stranger. “Good luck, doll!” The woman waved him off from her spot behind the desk, wondering if he should be a new member of the staff…

Yarik hadn’t been in his office all morning, but upon the wall with the artillery men. When the Minutemen had first re-installed themselves at the Castle, their defenses were found broken and their positions demolished by the mirelurks nesting along the foundation. With some effort, and some money invested from the outgoing caravans, they had been able to repair most of their ‘cannons’. Now it was a matter of testing their efficiency. 

As the vagrant was led up to the battlements, Yarik was in the midst of helping the soldiers take aim at a lonely ruin in the northernmost distance. A cracked, deserted wall that must have belonged to a house once. With a few more seconds of tense machining, the soldiers steadied their arms and fired. 

The thing had happened in a matter of seconds, but the soldiers gathered on the wall all saw the ammunition fly, and strike just as quickly. There was nothing left of the ruin then but bursts of fire and smoke. The light had been so intense that it had shadowed everything else in a brief moment. Then, silence. 

Then, cheering. The minutemen were now armed and dangerous. 

Yarik grinned placidly as he watched the soldiers speak excitedly over their new toys, almost like children. He still wore that expression as he finally laid eyes on the outsider brought to his attention. “Ah, how nice. A man comes to my aid.” 

“Your name, friend?”

There's a palpable softness in her gaze when she looks up to him. Something Lucio recognizes, something he used to purposefully harvest from others. Not many looked at him that way anymore. Namely due to his self inflicted isolation.

Bad habits reemerged when things became too familiar.

He avoided her eyes, lest they return to him in his dreams.

Even as she handed him the cup, he nods slightly, eyes transfixed to the hat that rests on his knee. A mumbling of a 'thank you' barely escapes him in a sort of grumble.

Sipping here and there, he savors the taste of the water. And eventually, he is called upon. His turn. A small habit, he sort of wipes off the rim of the cup before setting it down. Thanking her once again before his heavy steps carry him up stairs to the top of the wall. To what looked like target practice to Lucio.

The cannons are not quiet, Lucio sort of covers his ears when he recognizes the hand gestures belonging to a man who was seemingly in charge. The General. A young looking man with a sharp grin and eyes akin to his own when they weren't so dull as they were now. A look graced to him made him feel likely how he'd made so many others feel. There's a slight unease jostling his insides. A sensation on the tips of his fingers that feels almost wet.

The burst in the distance shatters rock, earth, and abode alike. These cannons were quite powerful, but fairly immobile.

Amidst the cheering, he sort of shadows. Comfortable in the cracks of background until he's addressed.

"Lucio."

He's not sure if 'aid' was how he'd describe it.

Either way, he pulls the flier from his duster pocket to give to the other.

"Caught my eye," He states rather plainly, waiting for an explanation.

@amberedcorpse

She wasn't sure what the surprise he had for her was, however she was smiling and quiet excited. But as she opened her eyes she looked up her eyes following the wood cross stuck in the ground until she realized who was up there on the cross. Her smile turned more flat, it wasn't quite a frown, but she was shocked. Not thinking she would ever see the death of Vulpes even though their relationship had all but went out.

Fiona didn't cry, they had talked about how to get her away from Vulpes, somehow, on a cross for treason wasn't exactly what she had thought. She leaned back into his grip feeling his nails dig into her a bit as she heard him speak.

"It is, a sad fate" She shook her head. "He.." She stuttered for a moment. "He has only himself to blame anyway. But now I don't have to worry about being with you."

Vulpes looked down, eyes hardly able to open he knew he wouldn't last much longer, He did what he could for the legion. Ending up here wasn't how he thought it would go, much less at the cause of a woman. The things she told Cicero being able to be twisted somehow and believed, how could Caesar believe either one of them.

He couldn't speak, all he could do was think about his undoing, and all how it was because of how he treated her, he could have, should have been better. He would have if he could have seen what was coming, as he looked down on her and looked at Cicero, he had a feeling she would be even in worse hands now and was too stupid to realize it.

Vulpes opened his mouth, wanted to tell Fiona to run, He couldn't speak and his eyes closed.

Strange. Though he wasn't expecting a fight about it, he certainly hoped there'd be some tears maybe. A mourning for what could've been between her and her previous husband.

But there's hardly any reaction at all. Only relief that she was free of worry.

If only she knew that Vulpes was one of the only people protecting her from what was in store. Her father being the only other left. He shouldn't prove to be as difficult as Vulpes. Though he'd likely be on guard. After all, he never really cared for Cicero. Always insisted on Vulpes short leash, insisting that he shouldn't be given the amount of freedom that he was.

'A mad dog' he'd said.

Already the next steps were being intricately placed in his mind as they stood in the desert heat. Watching the life fade from Vulpes' eyes.

"Of course not. At least now you're free of wondering when he'll ever come home. Who he's seeing- why you can't be at his side as he promised. I- however, have no such qualms."

He shrugs, fingers still kneading into her shoulders.

"A widow. A pity. You know- your husband never permitted me my wives."

Because he kept opening up their ribcages.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you though. I'm sure you'll have a line of suitors once your 'grieving period' is over hm? How exciting for you."

He says this as if anyone would dare approach her anymore. Grieving period or no.

@inthisfire-ifindrain

The Castle hadn’t been this lively in a long time, with soldiers surveying the construction of the walls, laborers setting up the framework for new towers, and caravans lining up to receive their out-going shipments. Even Ronnie Shaw, liable to criticize the Lord himself, had to admit things were ramping up quicker than in most of Joe Becker’s years as general. Yet the speed of their progress wasn’t as surprising as their reception. 

After their last general’s death, which had left poor Colonel Hollis in command, their reputation across the commonwealth took a quick and terrible nosedive. Groups of their militia had turned into bands of shameless pillagers after the in-fighting, and had devolved into the very threats they’d sworn to defeat. Many of Boston’s settlements still resent the ills they’ve suffered at the hands of those turncoats, citing the fall of Quincy as more than enough reason to shun their kind forever. 

Yet, things have changed since the reinstatement of the Minutemen, and actually for the better. Most of the communities to the South have raised their flags once more, the scope of their influence has grown, and the number of volunteers rises with each passing day. Victories, both big and small, have now become more of a common occurrence. One had to wonder how the new general got away with it…

The soldiers at the portcullis received Lucio with little suspicion, they definitely seemed like the kind of man to desperately need a job, and they were used to the odd vagabond coming along for a paycheck. After a brief search of their person, the straggler was let through to the worker’s check-in and forced to wait twenty minutes just to be called towards the desk. An older woman there read his flier as she blew out plumes of pipe smoke between her lips. 

“Ah, yeah, this-” She gave him a once over. “You’ll need to talk to the General for this one, honey. Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll have someone tell him you’re here for the job. It won’t be too much longer.” 

The woman leaned back, whispered something to the nearest guard, then just as quickly turned back. “Want some water while you wait? The heat’s pretty harsh today.”

With very little resistance from the soldiers and guards working the, he noticed, newly renovating walls; Lucio seemed to just ghost through the Castle. Pointed in the direction he needed to go, he aptly dodged between moving bodies, caravans, and training militia members.

It was a bustling sort of place. The Minutemen's revival had the people of the Commonwealth in a tizzy. It certainly didn't hurt their reputation that they seemed to be doing a hell of a lot of good. Beating back abominations from civilization. Clearing areas to make room for new habitable areas. From what he's heard, this new General they adopted was really quite the turning point for them. Reliable to the folk around here that had trouble fending for themselves.

That's not to say that Lucio was all that convinced of the righteous do-gooder reputation they were starting to garner. Legion did not operate this way, but Lucio recognized it. You didn't have to waste bullets or bother building bonfires if the people willingly followed you.

But- money is money isn't it?

So dutifully, he'd waited. Eventually beckoned by the woman at the desk. Apparently he was to wait to speak to the man himself. Strange that he takes guests. Lucio would imagine he's far too busy. Or was this job just as purposely mysterious as he'd had imagined it was?

Water? The paranoia in him doesn't like taking things from others. Nor does it find comfort in knowing that they have the means to so easily offer clean water. But clean water is so difficult to come by.

"... If it's no trouble to you, Ma'am."

His voice is low, thoughtful. Like a man with little to say.

And he takes his seat, taking the hat from his head and setting it on his knee. A calloused hand running through long black tresses. It was rude to greet folk with your hat on. Despite it feeling a bit exposed.

@amberedcorpse

Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure 1989, dir. Stephen Herek

How sensitive. That was the thing about Cicero, they weren’t as cold as the rest of the frumentarii, so prone to yapping and making faces. Just like an unruly child. Not that his smiles or theatrics were any less of a mask, of course, only that he was easier to bother. Getting nothing but irritated silence from Vulpes wasn’t always fun. 

“Well, She would think that I look clean and that you look dusty.” Gabban chuckled into the back of his palm. “If you’re going to make an offering at least make sure your face isn’t caked with sand.” 

He licked his finger and quickly smeared it across their cheek, wiping off a stain of who-knows-what. “Do you think while you’re out under the open sky, with sun and moon, I’m not working down here in the dark? It’d be nice to work out of this dungeon more often. Not that I’d want to trade places with you. You couldn’t do my work at all- three seconds and everyone would be dead I bet.”

His heavy brows furrow, he's not that dusty! I oughta throttle you-

Cicero waves his comments off like one would a fly. Little waves of his hand, grey eyes roll up towards the ceiling. Only to be be taken aback when a wet finger rubs into his cheek.

"C'mon- what are ya, my mom?" He grumbles, wiping the sensation of spittle with his wrist. He makes it feel like they're going to church and Cicero, an unruly child, needs to wear his Sunday best as to not embarrass him.

In his mind, Gabban takes this stuff way too seriously. But he supposed that's what happened when you were born into the Legion. Not merely adopted like he was. He remembers life outside of this... he didn't know what to call it. Prison? A farce maybe?

"Workin'? Is that what you call sitting down here day in and day out, playing with them? Psshhh. How hard can pulling teeth and removing fingers be?" He teases, obvious by his wide grin before one hand claps Gabban on the shoulder a few firm times. Hopefully leaving some 'dust' behind.

"Of course though brother, I know your work is an art. I'm happy to bring you your favorite type of medium to play with. Ever the suffering artist, aren't you? Keeping them together is just so... difficult. Indeed not my forte.

I much prefer taking them apart. Besides-!"

His fists rest on his hips, one hip jutting to the side. A small flair.

"My gifts from your Goddess are to be shared. I couldn't possibly stay cooped up here! Are you mad? It'd be a disservice."

@meadowlarksabove

Mutual Aid for Disabled Couple

There's a lot that's happened, but I'll try to keep it brief this time. Basically, my spouse and I are both disabled and unable to work. We live on a single income (his disability) for the time being as I struggle and struggle to get accepted for my own disability payments. Starting at the end of last year, our home was transferred to a property management company. We owed back rent and they came after us hard. Despite payment plans, they have screwed us over time and again, added fines, didn't inform us of a court date, fined us for that, and just harrassed us every month with an eviction form. At our rate, if they don't kick us out, we should have everything paid by June at the latest.

Unfortunately, that means we have no money for anything else. We have no car, our phones are shut off for non-payment, and groceries are getting harder to come by as we can only order delivery.

I am doing emergency commissions, something you can see on @duessa but due to major health issues, my queue is rather backed up.

I feel like we've asked for a lot, and I loathe asking for more, but even a dollar or two can help us survive. We appreciate and love all the help and support we've received. Thank you, from the bottom of my aching heart.

P*ypal, v*nmo, and c*ashapp are all @ duessa.

Thank you again.

As Gabban held the glass in his hand, he remembered the little wooden cups served to all the foot soldiers on holidays and nights of harvest. Barely a thimble of wine for himself and the Goddess that dominated his heart. Now that he served Caesar more closely he’d been permitted to keep the bottles he scavenged, a privilege he’d never dreamed of getting. 

“If you’ve noticed then that must mean I’ve done something right.” He placed a hand over his own chest, skin free of blood and gore. It’d been a while since he looked so overly groomed, and smelling of flowers above all else. “It is for Her, there’s no one else here I’d want to impress anyway.” 

Carefully, he set the glass beside the wine and took a moment to look Cicero over, conveying little with his expression. “You’re dusty.”

It was impressive. Gabban was very typically smeared in some substance or another. Came with the job he supposed. But he cleaned up well, Cicero could actually see the golden crown of hair on his head. It's true, he and his brothers all looked pretty much exactly alike.

Though the remark to his own appearance makes Cicero's expression sink slightly with a roll of his eyes.

"Dunnow if you've noticed babe, but we're in a desert. With dust storms. And- unlike you, golden child, I actually have to leave this moaning groaning hall and work for a living. Your play things don't just get delivered magically you know. You're welcome by the way."

Cicero crosses his 'dusty' arms over his chest with no small amount of show of indignance. An expressive sort he was- a fan of dramatics.

"Such an ugly comment on a day of 'love' and 'beauty' Gabban. What would she think?"

He feigns insult and concern for his continued blessing.

@meadowlarksabove

Send ⌚️ to interrupt my muse while they’re working