Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 124: Wear My Ring Around Your Neck

It was a long, sleepless night before the rains finally gave way to an arid heat once more. The pungent smell of sulphur rose from the wet grounds like a thick miasma of death, visible to the naked eye as the sun heated the soil and lifted the mist like a curse.

Kelly found her vigil on nightwatch easily, having slept most of the day on Danse's shoulder. She passed the night by skimming back and forth between him and the cave opening, moving on quiet feet so as not to disturb her sleeping militia. Danse listened as she regaled him of stories from her time in war, before the bombs dropped. But only the heartening stories. Those rare, bittersweet things that came and went with the flicker of wind on a hot day.

She sat outside as the sun showed it's face, licking the morning sky with fresh lilac hues shot with blood red arcs through the retreating clouds. If only she could drag Danse to the cave mouth so they might witness it together. She remembered all the times she had lifted awake at first light to find him still up on watch, having never awoken her so she could take over. After her brief scolding and his stand-offish dismissal, they would always watch the sunrise together, rarely talking, drinking it in. Back then, she hadn't known why he lamented sleep.

Vertibird rotors broke her reverie. Time for business. Stowing her hoard of coffee ashes, Kelly changed out of her skimpy hot pants and revealing crop top and into a pair of soft leather leggings and a thin zipper vest, layering over with Danse's bomber jacket to brace her skin against the chill winds that whipped through the Prydwen at altitude. It smelled of him; his skin, his sweat, smoke and leather, grease and whiskey, mineral dust and spilled coffee, all staple scents of masculinity yet somehow distinctly Danse. She dazed and let herself get lost in his embrace, mentally preparing herself for what was to come, telling herself she was doing it for him.

She made sure to unzip her vest beneath as low cut as she dared, just for Maxson. If only she had a push-up bra just lying around... Her breasts weren't as perky as they had once been with all the havoc she had put her body through.

After a futile manipulation of her bosom, Kelly shrugged and ended up removing her boring standard-issue bra to go bare, letting the rawness of her cleavage gaze out from the open zipper. That'll tantalize his testicles.

After munching some dried leftovers from the Minutemen cook-off last night, she devoted more time to cleaning up her appearance. She was in the middle of applying her eye kohl in her tiny pocket mirror when Lieutenant Kip roused with a snort nearby. Her hand slipped and sent a wayward black line out toward her temple.

"Shitfuck."

"Sorry, lass. Didn't mean to startle you," the grizzled old hunter yawned in his Irish drawl.

Smudging away the liner before it set, Kelly smiled his way. "It's all good. You'd think I'd have the steady hands of a surgeon with all the headshots I can pull off without a blink. Bit out of practice."

Kip grumbled vapid agreement and gazed emptily her way, clearly not versed in the womanly realm of cosmetic application. "Careful you don't stab your eye out."

"Hah. Been there, done that." She tried again to get her wings even, keeping them low to form a seductive almond shape to her eyes, then filled in her waterline to create her signature bedroom eyes. She batted her lashes in the mirror to practice. "Never apply eyeliner on a moving vertibird."

Again, Kip returned her a blank look. "Well, can't say I can relate."

Laughing, Kelly packed away her things and stood to approach the simmering campfire. "Get you a coffee?"

"Thanks." He took a moment to gather the strength to stand and make his way to her; his injuries from enduring Dark Blood torture were still bothering him, like many of the others. Kelly observed him in silent concern. His femur had been shattered and would be in a cast for weeks, forcing him to hobble around like a broken old man even older than his years. He had been lucky, however. Some of the soldiers would never fully recover, physically or mentally. She hoped she never had to endure the specialized treatment of the Dark Bloods, though it was the risk she took. The risk they all took.