F!Courier/Red Lucy, Caught Off Guard
Dec. 5th, 2018 01:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vulpixincultaoriginally for a tumblr prompt 'caught off guard kiss'
~~
Gambling is a vice for profligate vultures.
Still, Nox cannot help the rush she feels as it comes time to collect her winnings at night’s end. The air raid siren wails once and the surviving deathclaw is herded away into its cage, blood dripping from its maw and splattering the concrete beneath its feet. Drops of fresh paint on an impossibly old, tarnished canvas. Drawing out the picture of her proxy victory.
Easy to spot the strengths and weaknesses in the Thorn’s creatures. She is accustomed to having an eye for more subtle tells in humans, and beasts are far simpler maps than their sapient counterparts. She always departs with pockets heavier than when she had arrived.
Red Lucy stares from her roost above the network of stairs and cages, her gaze dark behind the equally dark lines of her makeup. Nox always finds such appeal in the black smudge about her eyelids, the tiniest fleck of a veil, lending weight and sharpness to her otherwise leather soft pools of brown.
Today she is seemingly too taken with her contemplation to note Nox’s approach, the corners of her mouth are stiff and pressed like the starched collar of an NCR uniform. Perhaps one of her beasts has taken ill again, or there has been more harassment from the Gun Runners, thinking they can peddle their wares to the capless folk who frequent this small reprieve from the bright world above.
Either way, Nox seizes advantage whenever she is granted such opportunities. Swooping down upon Red Lucy’s perch and landing at her side, silent as a kite hawk. Her lips finding those chapped and troubled ones that grant her temporary hospitality. Like a soft feather bed she may fall into during rare migrations.
Red Lucy jumps only slightly in surprise, a tamped-down reaction before she returns the gesture in kind. Pressing welcomingly into the kiss, humming as her hand sets against the back of Nox’s dirt-caked hair. Welcoming her back to the nest.
~~
Gambling is a vice for profligate vultures.
Still, Nox cannot help the rush she feels as it comes time to collect her winnings at night’s end. The air raid siren wails once and the surviving deathclaw is herded away into its cage, blood dripping from its maw and splattering the concrete beneath its feet. Drops of fresh paint on an impossibly old, tarnished canvas. Drawing out the picture of her proxy victory.
Easy to spot the strengths and weaknesses in the Thorn’s creatures. She is accustomed to having an eye for more subtle tells in humans, and beasts are far simpler maps than their sapient counterparts. She always departs with pockets heavier than when she had arrived.
Red Lucy stares from her roost above the network of stairs and cages, her gaze dark behind the equally dark lines of her makeup. Nox always finds such appeal in the black smudge about her eyelids, the tiniest fleck of a veil, lending weight and sharpness to her otherwise leather soft pools of brown.
Today she is seemingly too taken with her contemplation to note Nox’s approach, the corners of her mouth are stiff and pressed like the starched collar of an NCR uniform. Perhaps one of her beasts has taken ill again, or there has been more harassment from the Gun Runners, thinking they can peddle their wares to the capless folk who frequent this small reprieve from the bright world above.
Either way, Nox seizes advantage whenever she is granted such opportunities. Swooping down upon Red Lucy’s perch and landing at her side, silent as a kite hawk. Her lips finding those chapped and troubled ones that grant her temporary hospitality. Like a soft feather bed she may fall into during rare migrations.
Red Lucy jumps only slightly in surprise, a tamped-down reaction before she returns the gesture in kind. Pressing welcomingly into the kiss, humming as her hand sets against the back of Nox’s dirt-caked hair. Welcoming her back to the nest.
