3 - Late Nite (Sleeping) Action!

[iamawaited]

Who: Nux and the Red Fish crew
Broadcast: N/A
Action: S.S. Red Fish
When: Any night during his first few weeks!

[There are a lot of things Nux really likes about this new life on the Red Fish. Having clean water and food available on demand has already been an enormous luxury. Having a whole ship to play with is even better, even if it's under Zhas's command. He hasn't been sure what to make of the fact that he's been here for a while now and hasn't seemed to get any sicker, but he knows it's ultimately a good thing.

Furiosa had told him to live, and somehow, he is. He learns what it is to stop being hungry and thirsty all the time, he learns about clean. He even stops wearing his war paint.

He's also never had a space of his own before, though. There are probably some people who like that part, too, but when Nux tries to go to sleep cloistered away in his little bunk, the Red Fish suddenly feels very empty and very cold. Some nights, he can handle it. Others...

Well, there are nights those crew members that don't lock their doors might wake up to find a scarred-up, gangly bunch of limbs trying to curl up beside them.]

Comments

[blindoptimism]

Other-- [she looks throughout. Other War Boys? She wonders what that means... A profession? Or perhaps a class? Either way, when one uses the word 'all' an image comes to mind of a ton of people close together. Mm, that would be a sudden shift. ]

Is the Citadel a city? Where you lived? [aldkgh I'm so sorry if you were really tired Nux, she's pretty awake now and in a question-asking mood. But she keeps her voice very soft, almost to a whisper as she asks questions. In the hope that if he does drift off as they talk, she doesn't wake him]

[iamawaited]

Yeah.

[For the moment, he goes with it, although he shifts to lie down now, stretching out on his back.]

Mostly made of rock -- so lots of echoes, you know?

[He taps his ear demonstratively, then drops his hands to lace them together over his skinny, scarred stomach.]

People were always up late working, coming in and out. And all of us in the War Boy quarters, or huddled up at the Organic Mechanic's. Lots of people around, lots of noise.

[blindoptimism]

[she nods at his question, and subtly continues to nod as he explains. Her mind attempts to furl out, to paint a stage to match what he's describing... But she comes up short in many ways. It all sounds so foreign]

Did you like it?

[iamawaited]

[He nods hastily before he even considers the question, almost before she finishes it, although of course no one had ever asked him that while he was there. No one ever cared if the War Boys liked their living conditions.

But it's all he knows, other than this.]

I miss it.

[He hesitates a little.]

...That part of it.

[blindoptimism]

[She nods slowly, and reaches a hand out from under her blanket to find his closest hand. When she finds it, she gives it a light and unobtrusive squeeze. Holding hands has been important to her for her entire life, the best way that she can attempt to offer her true feelings]

I hope we can make this ship something like a home away from home, even if it's not the same.

[iamawaited]

[He blinks owlishly as her hand, small and warm, finds his, looking over at her with wide round eyes. He lets it drop to the covers between them, long fingers twining gratefully with hers. This is something new for him, this kind of gentle affection as opposed to the intense, energetic physicality of the other War Boys, but he likes this, too.]

Is it that way for you?

[blindoptimism]

[She considers the question. It's not something that anyone had asked her here, mostly by her own choice and steering of the conversation. But this moment feels quiet and safe, so she shakes her head]

I don't know what's waiting for me in my world, or what my fate will be... So I'm happy staying here.

[she pauses for a beat] I suppose that's a cowardly answer.

[iamawaited]

[His mouth twitches, though his expression is a little hard to read, for once.]

You wanna be a full-life.

[blindoptimism]

[she hums lightly at his answer, focusing her eyes on his]

What does that mean?

[iamawaited]

We're half-lives, people like us. You and me and Coil.

[He's always assumed they're like him. If wheelchairs are unusual back home, it's only because not many people have the supplies or resources to build them -- but there are plenty on the Wasteland with legs or arms that are missing, or don't work. Plenty of people without voices. Plenty of people who are sick like him, too; almost everyone, really.]

Not a lot of full-lives left in my world, but... Furiosa said I could try to be one here.