After spending thirty years of my life hiding my association with the Enclave [open]

[taediosum]

Who: Arcade (taediosum) & OPEN
What: Arts & crafts (or some long overdue vehicle maintenance)
When: Some activity during the morning stop & early evening 
Where: His truck
Warnings: TBD but nothing likely

Note: I have an opt-in here for Arcade's vital sense ability, please leave a comment if it's something you're interested in coming up here or in future threads! Otherwise, no worries, it just won't work on/around them.



[ Ordinarily, Arcade only looks for salvage of practical things, at the intermittent garage stop. He doesn't know much about vehicle maintenance beyond the basics, and even that's mostly still only in theory. (Luckily, he somehow hasn't had to field a flat tire or an overheating engine, yet.) But he knows plenty about surviving in a post-apocalyptic waste with little to live on, from place to place. He also knows too much about personally handling triage, in those same circumstances. 

So it's really no wonder it's taken him this long to start picking up things that aren't necessarily needed but still... Well, probably should have been considered, at least, a little sooner. (But he's had a whole host of other things to worry about, these past few months, unsurprisingly.)

He's already started a small collection of patchwork canvas, wherever he can find it. It's going to take a while to actually completely enclose the back of the truck, again, so that it can serve as somewhat more suitable shelter - so he'll be around crudely stitching together the various pieces of cover that he's managed to collect, thus far, both in the early morning hours and at night. He's not quite as good at sewing as he is at suturing, and it's kind of obvious.

Or maybe he's trying to flag someone down to lend a hand with actually fitting his makeshift tarp over the top of the truck's trailer— ] Hey, do you have a minute? I could use some help, here.

[ One particular evening, he can also be found with a small collection of old paint cans, painstakingly hunted down in the latest set of ruins. He's set up alongside the truck's cab, eyeing the faded spray paint stenciled logo on the door in front of him - before unceremoniously dashing a swath of old beige paint over it.

Maybe it's because he hasn't made a plan until now to actually get rid of it (despite all the trouble it's already caused), but covering it up feels better than expected. ]

Comments

[androidvictoriam]

I suspect that's far more true than either of us even knows.

[ Only ever a sticking point for the Brotherhood, which didn't really want its soldiers' loyalties divided, particularly not to a priest fond of adapting parables to include the human dignity of ghouls. It was the Brotherhood, not Father Clifford, that molded Danse into the kind of guy prone to calling people "godless heathens" as trash talk, while simultaneously stripping the deeper thought or meaning from it until it just felt like one more thing to say. But that, too, is behind him now. Along with his power armor. ]

That's a shame, though. I really think more people should.

[ He might at one point have added "with the Brotherhood's blessing," but that's harder to do when he no longer even has that himself, and he's always been a fair amount more permissive than the typical Brotherhood hardliner with this particular genre of tech anyway. ]

You might get a taste for it if you tried it out.

[ It's his turn to make assumptions now, though perhaps with slightly less reason to append a "no offense." ]

[taediosum]

Somehow, I doubt that.

[ Because he prefers not to fight at all, of course. And not for any other reasons.

...Though, really, given the prevalence of power armor in the last, uncomfortable leg of his dream, Danse might be readily able to come to his own deeper conclusions as to why Arcade doesn't find the prospect of donning it himself all that appealing. And they wouldn't be that far off the mark, either.

But he's eager to change the subject, anyway. ]

What's it like, out there, anyway? I mean, not even caravanners tend to travel that far. You might be my only real chance to learn how the other side live.

[androidvictoriam]

[ Danse opens his mouth to dispute this, starts to say that there's more than one other person here now who could give Arcade that perspective--but stops, and in a show of uncharacteristic self-interest, doesn't.

He doesn't want to cut short the conversation that part of him has been wanting to continue ever since that first day here. It won't prevent Arcade from later going and finding Nora (whose word in this context is far more valuable than Danse's could ever be) or Deacon (whose word should not be taken at face value, probably, under any circumstances.) He just wants to keep talking for now. He sorts through his thoughts as he reaches for the red paint, trying to think how to narrow the question down and where to start. ]

There's this...weight of history to everything. In some ways, that makes it all the more demoralizing to see it in shattered ruins--I mean, when you consider that it's where the bulk of the bombs actually fell, the devastation is pretty total. But there's a lot to be salvaged from it.

[ Maybe that's what accounts for the focus on the archaic, by Arcade's standards. There's so much that's just intact enough to be recognizable, but too damaged to ever truly rebuild, keeping people hanging onto the ghosts instead of starting afresh. That wouldn't entirely seem like a negative, to Danse. ]

Things get repurposed. I don't know what kind of ruins you have for building in out west, but the town I came from was an old beached aircraft carrier called Rivet City. [ "Came from" in the sense that some of his pre-Brotherhood memories there are actually real, he reasons, so it's close enough. ] It was a good place, honestly. As safe and thriving as anywhere could be, considering the lack of any local authority to offer protection.

[ He doesn't say "before the Brotherhood came," anymore. A part of him knows better now even without company he knows would disagree. And he'll steer clear, too, of explaining what the Brotherhood did with some of the Capital's most recognizable buildings. ]

The Commonwealth isn't as settled, but their largest settlement is Diamond City. They like to call it "the Great Green Jewel." To my understanding, it used to be some kind of sporting arena. They're very proud of it, but--the main draw is a pre-existing and heavily fortified wall that keeps hostiles at bay. They could expand in population if they weren't so reliant on it. Honestly, it...just made me more sad than impressed.

[ He maps out the points of the cross on the door, checking back with the patch to make sure they're correctly placed. ]

Anyway, that's the East Coast ethos as I see it. Take what you can from the old world, and honor it while making it new. It seems like you do that out west too, if the names are any indication--I've certainly heard of the old Vegas, but I don't know if yours is the same kind of 24/7 hedonism.

[taediosum]

[ It's not the answer he expects, and Arcade appreciates it all the more for that. Danse could have easily brushed him off (things are probably roughly the same everywhere, if you paint them in the broadest strokes), and Arcade isn't so sure he wouldn't be completely justified in doing so, either. Instead, he paints a picture of a place that Arcade feels at once that he has some fleeting grasp of, if only in its more ostentatious fixtures. Somewhere he regrets he'll never have a chance to visit, for what history there would still be left to see.

Not that it is all that different, in the west. Though they don't have quite the same depth and their truly historical sites are somewhat fewer and farther between, there are many places built up in their remains. New Vegas being one, of course. Arcade's laugh in answer is flat, and probably sounds like more of a scoff. ]

Worse, I'm sure.

[ His response is as dry as that not-laugh. ]

You can still drink, gamble, or... otherwise indulge away all your earthly possessions in under an hour, with a little motivation. And then you can enjoy a friendly escort off the Strip from the nearest Securitron, as soon as they realize you're broke.

[ Or sooner, if you're already persona non grata, anyway. Or look at someone powerful in just the wrong way. ]

New Vegas isn't all there is to see, though. All of the really big markers of civilization are back in NCR territory, closer to the coast. Like the Boneyard, where the Followers' university is located - in old world LA. Or Shady Sands, where the capitol is located. Both are the closest thing to real cities you'll find anywhere out there. Roads, buildings that aren't just repurposed old ruins, no shaky retaining walls just barely keeping the rest of the world out.

...It'd be truly impressive, if the NCR's expansionist overreach had only ended there.

[androidvictoriam]

[ Danse makes a noise of wry amusement that isn't really a laugh either, just an acknowledgment that human nature, rather like war, never seems to change. That would be a part of the old world that someone would want to prioritize rebuilding, monetizing, making more efficient with automation. And it would be thriving.

But that moment of wallowing in cynicism is nowhere near as interesting to him as the idea of real, restored civilization, seemingly to far more of an extent than he's ever seen in the east. As much as he might revere the history of his own home in the Capital, much as he might get misty-eyed at places like Bunker Hill for the significance he knows they held centuries before the war, his real yearning is for a glimpse at the kind of peace and ease that the pre-war Americans took for granted, and the idea of actual cities and things like functioning universities is as startling to him as traditions like gathering to hear Mass in a church are to Arcade.

Even if it comes with a price. It must, he supposes. ]

Considering that we're even familiar with them on the other side of the country, you might have a point.

[ That could mostly just be Brotherhood intel he's assuming incorrectly to be common knowledge, as he sometimes does, but he doesn't think so. It's not that he doesn't understand the mindset, of course. It's a very, very familiar mindset. But the drawbacks are now all the more evident now that he's technically seen them in practice, even if only in a dream. ]

I'm amazed to think that old-world Los Angeles could be so habitable now. I would have thought it would still be as bombed-out as Boston, at least, if not Washington D.C. And the university--you did mention it, in a sense, but I suppose I was envisioning something different. The Brotherhood has access to what used to be the Library of Congress, but it's-- [ Not accessible to anyone else. Including him, anymore. ] --not the same thing.

If that's what you mean by the Followers spreading knowledge...is there any sort of entry requirement to study there? Any kind of vetting, or necessary qualification, or a fee, or...

[ He isn't even really sure if he's saying there should be. He knows he should probably think there should be. ]

[taediosum]

No.

[ There's no hesitation in his answer, and no mistaking the obvious pride in his voice, when he gives it. ]

The only barrier to entry with the Followers is a willingness to learn, and, ideally, the desire to help others.

[ A brief pause, and then he appends an only slightly amused, ]

Why? Are you interested?

[ Though his tone resolves to something far more genuine, just as fast. ]

You wouldn't be the first ex-Brotherhood to inquire.

[androidvictoriam]

[ Danse continues to surprise himself with how little he actually minds this concept, though he supposes he'd think differently if he saw something he deemed particularly dangerous being taught. Still, he's not hearing anything that makes him second-guess his attempt to do a respectable job at painting their emblem onto a truck. (It's getting there.)

The amusement in Arcade's voice does raise a slight pinkness to his face, but--well, it's not as if he's ever so much as touched any kind of research, and it feels presumptuous to think he could just declare himself capable of it. He hadn't joined the Brotherhood for its databases, and Proctor Quinlan was certainly never impressed by any of Danse's questions about the technical documentation he brought back from recon sweeps. Learning for him has always been self-directed, recreational, and private.

He isn't surprised to hear about the defectors. He can imagine precisely the kind of person who would leave the Brotherhood for the Followers, despite the organizations' goals seeming to be so diametrically opposed. ]

I assume they were scribes, not paladins.

[ It isn't a "no," just a deflection. He does really miss having the clearance to read whatever he wants to, whenever he wants to. It's the idea of being expected to do anything with it in practice that makes him feel out of his depth. ]

I don't know. It certainly isn't that I don't value your way of helping people. It's just never been my forte.

[ He focuses for a moment on keeping the brush steady as he paints the vertical body of the cross. ]

But there was something one of the scribes at the Citadel always used to say, when the knights weren't taking her seriously. Something about how...when you separate warriors from scholars, your thinking will be done by cowards and your fighting will be done by fools. I don't have a clue who she was quoting, but it stuck with me anyway.