more is less — visitor , open .

[truce.]

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Lucia didn’t care.

She didn’t care whether Walker lived or died, whether his mistakes would ultimately lead to his own untimely demise. His fate was all on him, not on her. The choices he made, the path he followed, the decisions that lead up to this very point: he was in trouble. The Badlands was no good news — Lucia could not understand how anyone would choose to reside in a place capable of such violence — but perhaps it was the only place Walker could possibly fit in. Lucia could not deny that he wasn’t a good person, nor was she on her best days, but nobody deserved to fall into a trap as vicious as a group that lured people in like a venus fly trap. Once they got too close into the centre of the organisation, they’d be captured and used for the group's own benefit.

When it came to Walker, Lucia always cared.

From what she’d heard, he was yet another cog in the machine, overworked to death almost as his life depended on it. And it did. If he didn’t obey their orders, he’d be killed for defiance. He was a good liar, yet she’d fall for his words blindly all the same. Caring for someone did shit like that to people. Make them care in a place where care was not owed. She owed Walker nothing and yet here she stood, luggage heavy on her shoulders as she stared at the town that The Badlands called their empire.

She could see why people feared the group. An enterprise of this caliber was intimidating as tall buildings loomed overhead. The streets were pristine concrete, as if the people here were worked to an early grave in order to save face in this barbaric city. No wonder Walker had caved in to their demands; they must have been powerful enough to make a man like Walker bend to their will. As the many lies circulated in her head, Lucia grimaced slightly with resentment before stalking further into the town in order to find someone to talk to.

Maybe she was slightly scared to come face to face with the people Walker falsely claimed were the people who had him by the balls. Walker was far too prideful to ever come up with a lie that made him look ❛ weak ❜, right? Lucia questioned a lot of what he’d tell her — he was always good at playing her like a game — but surely this was the wholehearted truth. The night they lay down together and he admitted that he was in trouble and that Lucia needed to help him, betray her own people to keep him alive, Lucia had gladly done so in a heartbeat. She loved Flintlock, she cared about the people deeply, but they never made her feel the same way as she felt with Walker.

Without him, she felt a little less alive.

And so, she’d believe that Walker was in trouble and that he needed someone to save him. She’d cave into his demands despite her hesitation if it meant that it would keep him alive a day longer. And, she would go far as to travel all the way to a group so fearsome, risking her own safety, if it meant she could check up on him. Heart slammed warily in her chest, arm brushing over the holstered gun against her belt just for reassurance, before straightening up as she spotted a Badlander. ❝ I’m looking for Walker. ❞ She stated plainly as the Badlander wandered over, Lucia’s face stoic as eyes darted across their face. She was afraid, but she’d grit her teeth and bear it for Walker.

The things she’d do for the people who hurt her the most.