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Language:
English
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Published:
2020-03-16
Updated:
2020-03-16
Words:
398
Chapters:
1/?
Kudos:
6
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33

Popular Hymns of the Post-Apocalypse

Summary:

The story of the Lone Wanderer is a fractured one, told in snatches of stories that may or may not be true. Bit by bit, the loose pages come together again. (A collection of prompt fills and drabbles for the Lone Wanderer, Lucia Lieberman. Anachronistic order, updates as fills happen.)

Notes:

Hello, all! Just as a heads up- this is going to be in anachronistic order, and each chapter is its own stand-alone piece unless said otherwise. I'll do my best to make it apparent where in Fallout's timeline each chapter takes place.

Today's prompt was "Anticipation". Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Chapter 1: Abide with Me

Chapter Text

 

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;

The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;

When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

Help of the helpless, Lord, abide with me.


Lucia paused, her hand hovering over the elevator button.

There wasn’t much in the world she could be afraid of now. The form of the fear may change from place to place, but the function was the same. Stingwings, radstags, and bloodbugs; raiders and cities and even the synths with the Institute- she could assess and deal with whatever threats arose. She was a long way from the scared nineteen-year old that had stumbled from Vault 101 ten years ago.

The vaults too had become commonplace. They’d become a pet project of sorts, first for the Brotherhood of Steel and then for herself. Someone had to tell the story of the depths of depravity Vault-Tec had sunk into, how they saw the apocalypse as an opportunity for research. Every time she entered a vault she thought the horrors of the old world could sink no lower; every time she found something new to top the list. Vault-Tec’s villainy had become comical by now. Deadly science experiments held nothing in the way of fear anymore.

Then why was she hesitating?

Dogmeat whined and butted his cold nose against the hand Lucia had left dangling at her side, breaking her out of her reverie. She crouched down and let him press greedily into her, occupying her hands with as much of him as she could reach.

“You feel it too, don’t you boy?” she murmured, scratching his greying muzzle and chin. “Let’s make camp. Vault 111 can wait until tomorrow.”

Whatever the cause of her hesitation, the sun was low enough now that making camp and exploring tomorrow was a stronger option than exploring a potentially dangerous location late into the night with little energy. If the Mr. Handy in the nearby neighborhood was to be believed, Vault 111 had laid dormant for many years. It could wait a day more.

The twilight sun wound itself through the barren branches of the forest, the dark shadows it created slashing across the ground. The barren branches stirred in a slight breeze, dead wood clattering against dead wood in a parody of life and sound.

And far below the ground, deep beneath layers of rock and metal, the king within the mountain stirred.