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if you go, i'm going too.
billie eilish, 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫
━━━━━━━━━━━━
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Old habits die hard.
It's not hard to miss if you look closely enough. Drifters still travel the mutant-ravaged mesas of the Mojave Wasteland, gamblers still return to the New Vegas Strip to lose thousands of caps on slot machines. Despite all the hardships that await them, they carry on.
Something calls them. Whatever it is, it's instinctual. More binding than an oath, more natural than hunger or thirst or sex. You can find it in anyone if you know the right buttons to press.
Sylvia Parrish often wonders what one thing is so attractive that people will throw their lives away for it. What compels raiders to demolish villages, or settlers to defend them? What compels her to move from town to town, searching for something she can't name?
Yes, she's felt it before. It's the voice in her ear that tells her to leave the Strip one night and begs her to return the next. It's the ache in her chest when she catches sight of the Lucky 38's tower in the distance. It's the pit in her stomach that forms when she's stayed in one place for a little too long.
Love. It's love― or a lack of it. Love leads Sylvia to disappear from her home in Modesto with the next sandstorm. Love brings her a motley crew of fellow drifters that she can call true friends.
