It'd been pretty hot the past few weeks, an unwelcome heatwave that was very unusual for Stronghold. Unfortunately for the unlucky few that were stuck living in the slums, good air quality was hard to come by normally — with the heatwave, things got even worse. There was no proper airflow amongst the towering, ramshackle buildings, meaning no cool breeze to blow away the heat. Instead it merely seemed to sit there, stagnant, overwhelming anyone that breathed in the stuffy, dead air.
Zander felt like he was dying most days — but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to make an already difficult situation even worse on his parents and his siblings. He could hear them crying at night from the heat, but besides a few rickety fans that barely did anything to alleviate the temperature, they simply had to suck it up and deal with it. Of course there was always the temptation to head further into the walled city, where things weren't so overcrowded — but the dangers of the streets kept them indoors. While Zander would do anything to make his younger siblings feel more comfortable, he wasn't about to risk their lives for it, either.
They could get by, like they always did.
Today was a much better day, a cool breeze that they could feel even at the street level of the slums. It drew Zander out from his home for the first time in weeks — even his drug running for the Spades had gotten slack due to him not wanting to risk death running around in such dry heat. But today he planned to enjoy the little bit of relief that the breeze offered, and he sat himself on the ground a little ways away from his house, down a road that was larger than the regular labyrinth-like pathways that made up the slums. There was enough room for him to stretch out his legs and still have people be able to walk around him.
Eyes closed and head tilted back against the worn brick of the building, Zander hummed a quiet tune to himself as fingers plucked at the strings of the guiter he held in his hands.
The instrument held great meaning for Zander, being that it was the last thing his biological father had brought back for him from the world outside the walls. His greatest treasure. While he was nowhere near as good as professionals — Zander had to teach himself how to play the guitar — he wasn't terrible either, and he could hear a couple people stop every now and then to listen before hurrying on towards their destination. He didn't mind the attention — he didn't play for it, of course, but somehow it made him happy to think that maybe he could brighten someone's mood with a little music. It always made him feel better, at least.
Posted 08-08-2021, 07:49 PM
This post was last modified: 08-13-2021, 12:14 PM by Andromeda
Pied Piper Boy
