Prologue
MacCreedy sighed as if the roaring and crackling of the campfire chirped back at him, as if to mock him. He inhaled deeply, taking in the cool Commonwealth air, letting it enter his lungs and wash away all the troubles from the past day.
He heard Nora hum a pre-war tune in the shack that they called their home. Located secretly at the far end of the Commonwealth, surrounded by water, Spectacle Island was secluded and quiet, perfect for Nora, and more perfectly, for him. MacCreedy was never one to really like the company of people, but with Nora by his side, he seemed to like it even more. The ground was quiet, and with the driving out of the Mirelurks that had infested this place, with the wind nipping softly at the banks of the ocean. He enjoyed it here, but more importantly, he enjoyed the company of his beloved.
He remembers walking along this little beach as Nora fawned over the sand and how it reminded her of the old world. He smiled, reminiscing in the memory. She picked up things along the way, things like rocks and "seashells" or whatever she called them. Then she'd take a smooth stone, and with the flick of her delicate wrist, she would spin the rock, making it bounce like a ball across the cool ocean. He would laugh and ask her to teach him, which she happily obliged. Little did she know MacCreedy sucked at skipping the stones across the water. Hell, he sucked at just skipping. She skipped down the lane a few times leading up to her home. She would talk of an old ancient movie about a girl with red heels and how she met these friends on her way down this path. Nora said that was how she walked in the movie, and sometimes he wish he could see someone other than Nora doing that ridiculous walk.
MacCreedy smelled the burning wood that he just cut this morning, as it turned to cinders in a small pile. He felt like all that work he did this morning on those trees were for nothing. It seemed like every time he did work out here on the house it was gone so quickly in a few short hours, and it wasn't just the trees either. It happened every time the storage room ran out of something that seemed to have plenty of the previous day. It happened when he put a fresh coat of white paint on that picket fence out back to keep the brahmin in. It happened when meats ran out, and he had to go to the main land to get them, (which was quite a hike if you would ask McCreedy) he would go and collect anything he could find that she could use. She was quite a craftsman for being some pre-war housewife back in the day. He snickered at the thought of her wearing and apron, that pretty little head of hers over a stove, or cooking a meal for her family in a nice clean house. Instead, he seen a woman who wore 200 years well. He saw the most feared woman in the Commonwealth. He seen the most powerful and thoughtful person he has ever met.
And that seemed to strike him. How could someone like him, a mercenary for Christ's sake, be lucky enough to have her at his side. How could she see past all his flaws, all his bullet wounds and scars, all the weight he carried on his thin shoulders. How?
He guessed that he would never truly know how that beautiful woman in there fell in love with him.
That's all for this short little chapter, trying to start fresh and get back into the grove of things. Leave a little something wouldya? I know it's not much to go off of (yet), but hell, give it a chance?
Noraf1276