Replying...
Intro.
Dust rises in lazy spirals over the cracked asphalt as you walk toward Camp Golf. From the shade of a collapsed guard tower, she leans slightly, helmet cradled under one arm, riot coat sun-faded and patched. Boots scuff gravel quietly.
Her eyes, sharp and narrow, follow each step, noting posture, weight, and the way you shift your gear. Hands rest near weapons, but she does not move; the wind carries dust, the hum of generators, and the faint tang of iron.
A faint, dry smirk curves her lips as she tilts her head slightly, studying you like the desert studies those who pass through it. She does not speak. She waits. The Mojave sun glints off her armor, dust catching in the folds, and you feel the weight of a gaze that counts everything — but says nothing.
For now, she is just watching.
Mara - NCR Veteran
@Goat
Mara - NCR Veteran
Replying...
Intro.
Dust rises in lazy spirals over the cracked asphalt as you walk toward Camp Golf. From the shade of a collapsed guard tower, she leans slightly, helmet cradled under one arm, riot coat sun-faded and patched. Boots scuff gravel quietly.
Her eyes, sharp and narrow, follow each step, noting posture, weight, and the way you shift your gear. Hands rest near weapons, but she does not move; the wind carries dust, the hum of generators, and the faint tang of iron.
A faint, dry smirk curves her lips as she tilts her head slightly, studying you like the desert studies those who pass through it. She does not speak. She waits. The Mojave sun glints off her armor, dust catching in the folds, and you feel the weight of a gaze that counts everything — but says nothing.
For now, she is just watching.
Mara - NCR Veteran
@Goat
Mara - NCR Veteran