AUs and Art

Occassionally things might slide towards NSFW territory, and, in general, there will be het, m/m, and f/f drawings here. Please do not borrow/use any of my work without asking first. You can find me several places around the Internet: DeviantArt, LiveJournal, AO3 Art Tag, Fan Art Tag

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Wasteland Wanderer 

The place is small and dirty, an old gas station on the outskirts of town converted into a bar. The alcohol is harsh and burns all the way down. Basja’s pretty certain it’s toxic enough to kill all the nasty things probably stuck to the glasses that they’re served in. No matter how hard someone tries to clean them, they never are.

Nothing is ever clean out in the wasteland.

She comes back in the evening, after a day out in the waste, pack laden with choice cuts of gecko meat. Basja doesn’t like gecko meat herself, but the few inhabitants of the little town the gas station is a part of do, and if she’s going to run around clearing the countryside of the pests she might as well put their carcasses to some use.

Basja walks in, and stops.

There’s someone in her seat.

There are only a few things that Basja likes that she can still have, the wasteland having claimed everything else, and that seat is one of them.

“Hey,” she says, striding over and dropping her pack on what serves as the bar. Gecko blood seeping through the canvas smears across the counter. “You’re in my seat.”

The woman looks up and grins at her, smile wide, teeth stained. Her hair is cut unevenly and spiked, and she’s got the thin, pinched look of someone who has been wandering too long.

“Heard this was the best way to get your attention,” the woman says. At her feet a dog whines, a mangy thing that looks like its seen better days. Basja’s eyes drop to the dog for a moment, then rise to meet the gaze of the woman sitting in her seat.

“It’s actually one of the worst ways,” she tells her. Gecko blood drips onto the floor and the dog laps at it. “But you’ve got my attention.”

“Great!” The woman seems entirely too enthusiastic, and Basja can’t quite tell if she’s being genuine. “I need your help.”

Basja’s eyebrows damn near try to crawl up to meet her hairline with the look she gives this woman. “Right. I don’t do help.”

The woman bites down on her bottom lip and makes a face. “All right, I said that wrong. I want to hire you to help me find someone.”

Basja blinks at this woman. The dog on the floor gets up and makes to jump up on the counter and go after the gecko meat; the woman pushes it down with a harsh: “Barbas.”

“It will take a lot of caps,” she tells her. “A lot.”

“I’ve got something better than caps,” the woman says. “You used to be part of that gang, right? The Companions, or something, before they got taken down by the Silver Hand raiders?”

Basja’s eyes narrow, her jaw tightens. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I think I know where to find some of them,” she says. Basja feel something flip inside her - it feels kind of like her heart, but it might have been her stomach. “Some of the remaining Companions, not the Silver Hand. Everyone knows where the Silver Hand are.”

“And what do you want for this?” Basja is wary - something like this can’t come easily, can’t come cheap.

The woman leans on the counter, one of the spikes of her hair drooping slightly. “Well, I’ve got to find someone. This Vault brat - not really from a Vault, I don’t think, but you know the sorts who have no idea what the Wasteland is like and just want to be an adventurer? Yeah. Erik’s out here somewhere, and I need to find him.”

“And if I help you find this Erik?”

“Then I help you find your friends.” She holds out a hand. “Deal?”

Basja hesitates for a moment, looking at the outstretched hand. “I don’t even know your name,” she says. All she is doing now is stalling, because she’s going to say yes. There’s no way that she would refuse a chance to find any of them - Aela or Esin or Thade or Farkas - and she hasn’t had a lead of her own in months.

It’s easy to get lost out in the Wasteland.

“It’s Skuld,” says the woman. “You in?”

Basja reaches out and takes Skuld’s hand. “I am.”