1. tortuga - whorehouse. bare ankles AND bare calves? elle, you scoundrel.
[When you come from a post-apocalyptic wasteland with heavy 50's themes baked in, you tend to dress the part. We're talking a run down flower-print dress, with a knee-length bell-shaped skirt, covered in grime and stains, paired with sturdy boots that have desert sand caked into the seams. Oh, sure, there's a Pip-Boy on her arm, too, and a heavy-looking leather backpack strapped to her shoulders. And a hat! The hat is important, a black fedora with a wide brim, and it keeps the tropical sun out of her blue eyes just as well as it did the desert sun.
But while this outfit works out for New Vegas, it, uh. It doesn't so much the 18th century.
Elle hasn't thought anything of it at first. There aren't actually as many odd looks being sent her way compared to what the other people who arrived with her seem to be getting. She doesn't feel like she blends in, necessarily, but... Maybe it's that she doesn't stand out as much as some of the others? Maybe?
... ex...cept that now that she's getting closer to one of the more populated buildings (which she doesn't realize is a brothel), she's starting to get more stares. Except... for the fact that those stares aren't really... hostile? Or uninviting?
... quite the opposite, actually. Because now there's a guy coming up to her, filthy in a way she isn't used to, given the tropic humid heat. The strong smell of alcohol wafting off of him is more familiar, though.
It takes her a second to realize that she has no idea what this man is saying to her. None of these words are ones she recognizes, like, at all. But what she does pick up on is the lascivious look he's giving her.]
What? [she squawks.] Uh... No. Sorry, I don't... I'm, uh, not interested.
[He doesn't seem to understand her, either. Because he's laughing with drunken merriment and throwing his arm around her shoulder anyway. This is Elle's face of regret and unhappiness as a new wave of Drunky Smell hits her.
[Yeah, so, Elle learns her lesson and changes her clothes pretty fast. It's much, much safer to be wearing jeans and her Courier Duster. She still doesn't fit in, but at least when people look at her, it's got nothing to do with... uh... yeah.
Which means she's a lot more comfortable milling around in the crowds closer to the docks. The reason why there are so many people in this area becomes quickly obvious -- It's a market. And it's just full of all kinds of things that Elle has never seen before. It really doesn't take her long before she starts flitting excitedly from stall to stall, eyes bright and eager. Look at those fish! Look at these fruit!
Most importantly... Look at this beautiful bird. Holy shit? It's so pretty? Elle hovers by the cage, cooing at a parrot like an idiot. The person who's trying to sell the bird is looking more and more irritated the longer she stands there without buying it, but she doesn't seem to notice. Instead, when she looks up, she spots someone who stands out, just like her. She eagerly reaches out for their arm without thinking.]
Hey! Hey, check this out, isn't it pretty?
3. tortuga - beach. when i look at the water, and hear the waves lapping against the shore... it's almost like i can hear another voice.
[It's so weird. Night has fallen, and the town's lights are bright and the people are noisy, and there's still so much to learn about this place. So much she can't wrap her head around.
... but here she is, standing on the beach by herself. As humid as the evening is, it's cold here, right on the edge of the water. The Survivalist's coat isn't enough to keep the chill off. She should probably go back to the town, where it's a bit warmer. Instead...]
Why do I know this? [she asks the salty air, staring out at the sea like maybe it'll answer her.
She doesn't. She's never seen the ocean before. She's never been on a tropical island before. So why... Why is there this feeling in her chest that's a little bit like home?]
courier six | fallout: new vegas
bare ankles AND bare calves? elle, you scoundrel.
[When you come from a post-apocalyptic wasteland with heavy 50's themes baked in, you tend to dress the part. We're talking a run down flower-print dress, with a knee-length bell-shaped skirt, covered in grime and stains, paired with sturdy boots that have desert sand caked into the seams. Oh, sure, there's a Pip-Boy on her arm, too, and a heavy-looking leather backpack strapped to her shoulders. And a hat! The hat is important, a black fedora with a wide brim, and it keeps the tropical sun out of her blue eyes just as well as it did the desert sun.
But while this outfit works out for New Vegas, it, uh. It doesn't so much the 18th century.
Elle hasn't thought anything of it at first. There aren't actually as many odd looks being sent her way compared to what the other people who arrived with her seem to be getting. She doesn't feel like she blends in, necessarily, but... Maybe it's that she doesn't stand out as much as some of the others? Maybe?
... ex...cept that now that she's getting closer to one of the more populated buildings (which she doesn't realize is a brothel), she's starting to get more stares. Except... for the fact that those stares aren't really... hostile? Or uninviting?
... quite the opposite, actually. Because now there's a guy coming up to her, filthy in a way she isn't used to, given the tropic humid heat. The strong smell of alcohol wafting off of him is more familiar, though.
It takes her a second to realize that she has no idea what this man is saying to her. None of these words are ones she recognizes, like, at all. But what she does pick up on is the lascivious look he's giving her.]
What? [she squawks.] Uh... No. Sorry, I don't... I'm, uh, not interested.
[He doesn't seem to understand her, either. Because he's laughing with drunken merriment and throwing his arm around her shoulder anyway. This is Elle's face of regret and unhappiness as a new wave of Drunky Smell hits her.
Um. Ew.]
2. tortuga - market.
what's this? ooooh, wait, no, what's THAT?
[Yeah, so, Elle learns her lesson and changes her clothes pretty fast. It's much, much safer to be wearing jeans and her Courier Duster. She still doesn't fit in, but at least when people look at her, it's got nothing to do with... uh... yeah.
Which means she's a lot more comfortable milling around in the crowds closer to the docks. The reason why there are so many people in this area becomes quickly obvious -- It's a market. And it's just full of all kinds of things that Elle has never seen before. It really doesn't take her long before she starts flitting excitedly from stall to stall, eyes bright and eager. Look at those fish! Look at these fruit!
Most importantly... Look at this beautiful bird. Holy shit? It's so pretty? Elle hovers by the cage, cooing at a parrot like an idiot. The person who's trying to sell the bird is looking more and more irritated the longer she stands there without buying it, but she doesn't seem to notice. Instead, when she looks up, she spots someone who stands out, just like her. She eagerly reaches out for their arm without thinking.]
Hey! Hey, check this out, isn't it pretty?
3. tortuga - beach.
when i look at the water, and hear the waves lapping against the shore... it's almost like i can hear another voice.
[It's so weird. Night has fallen, and the town's lights are bright and the people are noisy, and there's still so much to learn about this place. So much she can't wrap her head around.
... but here she is, standing on the beach by herself. As humid as the evening is, it's cold here, right on the edge of the water. The Survivalist's coat isn't enough to keep the chill off. She should probably go back to the town, where it's a bit warmer. Instead...]
Why do I know this? [she asks the salty air, staring out at the sea like maybe it'll answer her.
She doesn't. She's never seen the ocean before. She's never been on a tropical island before. So why... Why is there this feeling in her chest that's a little bit like home?]