Éponine Thénardier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
filleauloup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2019-05-28 06:52 am
filleauloup) wrote in fandomtownies2019-05-28 06:52 am
Entry tags:
Fandom (Trading) Post Office, May 28 (Tuesday)
Éponine, were she herself, would be annoyed to realize that for all she'd gotten healthier in the years since she'd arrived on the island, she was right back to looking like her old, sickly, emaciated self. The Wasteland would do that to you.
The point was, Éponine wasn't the usual version of herself, and the ramshackle little metal-walled structure that was ordinarily the post office (and occasionally had a pack brahmin wandering through it, loaded down with bags and the occasional battered lawn chair and also not always necessarily touching the ground) didn't do much in the way of mailing these days. That was difficult when most of your shipping options involved relying on bloatflies or mutant hounds or the occasional radscorpion to make sure your package arrived.
The mail service still existed, sure, but mostly Éponine supplemented what meager caps she got from from the post by going out to scavenge in the Wasteland; you could probably tell from the tire iron and rusty machete dangling from the belt of her beat-up road leathers that she was pretty good at it. So in addition to whatever (very old) postage supplies were on the shelves, you could find salvaged cans of Cram, Sugar Bombs, the occasional Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, and of course various junk: rolls of duct tape (look, those were very important if you wanted to mod your weapons), old broken light bulbs, mugs, toy cars, maybe a bedraggled stuffed animal.
But if you still wanted to come in and chance it on a package going out, she wouldn't turn down your caps.
[OOC: But please assume that any essential mail miraculously makes it through, also! The sort of post office is open, and Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii might have spent way too much time playing FO4 (because I don't have FO3 on console and I'm lazy) the last couple of days. Will I ever be done poking fun at the FO4/76 crafting mechanics? Not really, no.]
The point was, Éponine wasn't the usual version of herself, and the ramshackle little metal-walled structure that was ordinarily the post office (and occasionally had a pack brahmin wandering through it, loaded down with bags and the occasional battered lawn chair and also not always necessarily touching the ground) didn't do much in the way of mailing these days. That was difficult when most of your shipping options involved relying on bloatflies or mutant hounds or the occasional radscorpion to make sure your package arrived.
The mail service still existed, sure, but mostly Éponine supplemented what meager caps she got from from the post by going out to scavenge in the Wasteland; you could probably tell from the tire iron and rusty machete dangling from the belt of her beat-up road leathers that she was pretty good at it. So in addition to whatever (very old) postage supplies were on the shelves, you could find salvaged cans of Cram, Sugar Bombs, the occasional Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, and of course various junk: rolls of duct tape (look, those were very important if you wanted to mod your weapons), old broken light bulbs, mugs, toy cars, maybe a bedraggled stuffed animal.
But if you still wanted to come in and chance it on a package going out, she wouldn't turn down your caps.
[OOC: But please assume that any essential mail miraculously makes it through, also! The sort of post office is open, and Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii might have spent way too much time playing FO4 (because I don't have FO3 on console and I'm lazy) the last couple of days. Will I ever be done poking fun at the FO4/76 crafting mechanics? Not really, no.]