My name is Max. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theroadwarrior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-01-02 02:26 am
theroadwarrior) wrote in driftfleet2016-01-02 02:26 am
Entry tags:
open action | ADVENTURES ON ICY PLANETS
Who: Max Rockatansky & Whoever is willing to bump into him.
Broadcast: N/A.
Action: The planet Arslae.
When: January 1st — January 8th.
ACTION A.
[Max gets off the SS Starstruck very quickly — he thrives on open space, needs the natural world around him, even if it's a frozen land that he's unfamiliar with. Snow and ice is bizarre; thanks to the landscape he was from — the radioactivity, the climate issues, all of it, he's never witnessed it at all firsthand. Doesn't even know where to really begin. Armed with a rather intimidating kitchen knife wrapped up and carefully hidden on his person, he bundles up and treks into the thick of it. Admittedly — and a rare occurrence — he finds his curiosity curves his caution just enough for the task.
It's like a dog or a cat being thrown into the middle of a snowy backyard. He tests the earth, quirks his brows when his legs sink deeper and deeper into the flurry. Almost reminds him of quicksand, only there's still the solid sensation of earth underfoot.
Careful Max, wouldn't wanna get slurped in, a young voice chimes in. He can't place it exactly, but it's not Glory. He's seen and heard so many children die in his life out there in the Wastelands, he couldn't begin to guess who it could be. He grumbles under breath and slips his fingers into the snow, forming a snowball in hand. Strangely, it feels like the natural reaction to snow. Heavy when compacted, holds shape unlike sand. The voice keeps knocking on the inside of his skull, slipping through the folds of his brain, tickling his eardrum.
Max. Max... Come find me, Max. Help me, Max—
He sees the shadow of a ghost in his peripheral and throws the snowball in its direction.
Mostly out of relaxed irritation. He's used to the sounds of the dead.
But sorry if you're actually standing there.]
ACTION B.
[Max lingers around a bit closer than he'd usually stay, near the bonfires. He's nowhere near close enough to be brightly lit or partake in any of the good will or hospitality, but he's at least close enough in the background to leech a small amount of the warmth while he sits and starts slowly packing up a pack made of hide that he'd bought with the limited money he had. He supposes that's one small upside to being on a 'show'.
But he's also unfamiliar with using a real form of currency nowadays. So that's strange.
The biggest foe he's faced so far here, however, is his knee. He sits away from the others and suffers in silence, unbuckling part of his brace and moving it so that he can knead the aching scarred, stiff joint with his hand. He's not unused to it hurting sometimes, considering the inside of his knee is a mess of tissue and rough bone. But that's in the desert, where the sun rose — inevitably as it did — on the coldest of nights, and the aching would stop while he could bask in harsh sun like a lizard on a rock.
Here, it's a constant nagging. A little chiming bell of nerves that fight their own body. He doesn't like it. He chews the inside of his cheek, expressive only in the lines of pain forming at the edges of his eyes, near the creases of his mouth, beneath his slight beard. Maybe he'll look into medications, since this world may have them. His, not so much. It is a rarity, medical care. He's learned plenty in looking after himself.]
ACTION C.
[One may find him hunting, but he's surprisingly with a group of natives. It's not that he wants the company — he just wants to barter, to get things in return for staying in motion. It's really quite simple: you live, you move, you keep your supplies well-maintained. In exchange for using their weapons and going on the hunt with them, he'll earn salted meats from their supply. It's interesting for him to see such simple measures taken on a planet with some surprising technology. Then again, home had some interesting machinery of its own, for how broken the system was.
Maybe you're out there with this group. They're going after mostly easy game, but they're bound to run into the less pleasant sort of monster out here. Until then, Max plays it simple, opting to stay in the back of the group and reply only when he's needed. He's a man of few words, always has been, always will be.
But... this sort of thing keeps his wandering and fractured mind on track.
He sneezes into his sleeve, tightens up the jacket and scarf he has tucked into his collar, and pushes forward.
His mind is blissfully silent.]
ACTION D. (STARSTRUCK)
[Max hauls what he's given back to the ship in one of the small shuttles. He supposes this is where it's a good thing he's a pilot — it's not completely effortless, but it's like working an old atrophied limb, and he comes to find that he actually enjoys the trips back and forth more than he'd admit to anyone. Just having something to drive... wheels or not... it's good.
He brings back both raw and dried meats, most of which he tries to discreetly stock the kitchen of the Starstruck with. He's not one to share his things — anyone can tell that by how he carries everything he owns on him, in his pack — but he's also aware that the struggle for food here is not-so-woefully absent in comparison to the planet he had just been on, before joining the fleet.
It's not an easy thing to shake. Sharing. It's not in his nature anymore. But you know, going against your nature is okay, from time to time. After all, he's usually a scavenging buzzard himself. A vulture picking off the old world. For now, he'll try to play along.
He tries to leave the place as fast as he'd arrived, of course.
He hasn't picked a bunk, a place to sleep; he hasn't made a place for himself here yet.]
Broadcast: N/A.
Action: The planet Arslae.
When: January 1st — January 8th.
ACTION A.
[Max gets off the SS Starstruck very quickly — he thrives on open space, needs the natural world around him, even if it's a frozen land that he's unfamiliar with. Snow and ice is bizarre; thanks to the landscape he was from — the radioactivity, the climate issues, all of it, he's never witnessed it at all firsthand. Doesn't even know where to really begin. Armed with a rather intimidating kitchen knife wrapped up and carefully hidden on his person, he bundles up and treks into the thick of it. Admittedly — and a rare occurrence — he finds his curiosity curves his caution just enough for the task.
It's like a dog or a cat being thrown into the middle of a snowy backyard. He tests the earth, quirks his brows when his legs sink deeper and deeper into the flurry. Almost reminds him of quicksand, only there's still the solid sensation of earth underfoot.
Careful Max, wouldn't wanna get slurped in, a young voice chimes in. He can't place it exactly, but it's not Glory. He's seen and heard so many children die in his life out there in the Wastelands, he couldn't begin to guess who it could be. He grumbles under breath and slips his fingers into the snow, forming a snowball in hand. Strangely, it feels like the natural reaction to snow. Heavy when compacted, holds shape unlike sand. The voice keeps knocking on the inside of his skull, slipping through the folds of his brain, tickling his eardrum.
Max. Max... Come find me, Max. Help me, Max—
He sees the shadow of a ghost in his peripheral and throws the snowball in its direction.
Mostly out of relaxed irritation. He's used to the sounds of the dead.
But sorry if you're actually standing there.]
ACTION B.
[Max lingers around a bit closer than he'd usually stay, near the bonfires. He's nowhere near close enough to be brightly lit or partake in any of the good will or hospitality, but he's at least close enough in the background to leech a small amount of the warmth while he sits and starts slowly packing up a pack made of hide that he'd bought with the limited money he had. He supposes that's one small upside to being on a 'show'.
But he's also unfamiliar with using a real form of currency nowadays. So that's strange.
The biggest foe he's faced so far here, however, is his knee. He sits away from the others and suffers in silence, unbuckling part of his brace and moving it so that he can knead the aching scarred, stiff joint with his hand. He's not unused to it hurting sometimes, considering the inside of his knee is a mess of tissue and rough bone. But that's in the desert, where the sun rose — inevitably as it did — on the coldest of nights, and the aching would stop while he could bask in harsh sun like a lizard on a rock.
Here, it's a constant nagging. A little chiming bell of nerves that fight their own body. He doesn't like it. He chews the inside of his cheek, expressive only in the lines of pain forming at the edges of his eyes, near the creases of his mouth, beneath his slight beard. Maybe he'll look into medications, since this world may have them. His, not so much. It is a rarity, medical care. He's learned plenty in looking after himself.]
ACTION C.
[One may find him hunting, but he's surprisingly with a group of natives. It's not that he wants the company — he just wants to barter, to get things in return for staying in motion. It's really quite simple: you live, you move, you keep your supplies well-maintained. In exchange for using their weapons and going on the hunt with them, he'll earn salted meats from their supply. It's interesting for him to see such simple measures taken on a planet with some surprising technology. Then again, home had some interesting machinery of its own, for how broken the system was.
Maybe you're out there with this group. They're going after mostly easy game, but they're bound to run into the less pleasant sort of monster out here. Until then, Max plays it simple, opting to stay in the back of the group and reply only when he's needed. He's a man of few words, always has been, always will be.
But... this sort of thing keeps his wandering and fractured mind on track.
He sneezes into his sleeve, tightens up the jacket and scarf he has tucked into his collar, and pushes forward.
His mind is blissfully silent.]
ACTION D. (STARSTRUCK)
[Max hauls what he's given back to the ship in one of the small shuttles. He supposes this is where it's a good thing he's a pilot — it's not completely effortless, but it's like working an old atrophied limb, and he comes to find that he actually enjoys the trips back and forth more than he'd admit to anyone. Just having something to drive... wheels or not... it's good.
He brings back both raw and dried meats, most of which he tries to discreetly stock the kitchen of the Starstruck with. He's not one to share his things — anyone can tell that by how he carries everything he owns on him, in his pack — but he's also aware that the struggle for food here is not-so-woefully absent in comparison to the planet he had just been on, before joining the fleet.
It's not an easy thing to shake. Sharing. It's not in his nature anymore. But you know, going against your nature is okay, from time to time. After all, he's usually a scavenging buzzard himself. A vulture picking off the old world. For now, he'll try to play along.
He tries to leave the place as fast as he'd arrived, of course.
He hasn't picked a bunk, a place to sleep; he hasn't made a place for himself here yet.]
no subject
It's called chakra. It's just a manifestation of the energy people produce in their cells ... assuming you know what those are, some places haven't exactly discovered those yet.
Anyways, you have it too -- you just never learned how to use it, so it's dormant.
[ She pauses, before she has an idea ]
I can show you how to works to heal things on myself first, so you can see it in action.
no subject
He has it too, huh?]
Let's see it.
[Seeing it in action on anyone but himself seems like a sound enough plan.]
no subject
All right, watch closely ...
[ She'll bring her thumb to her mouth and bite down on it hard -- though she doesn't flinch or even appear to be in any pain, despite her delicate appearance. She pulls it away from her mouth now, holding it out to him to show him where she's punctured it and how it's now bleeding.
After a moment, her thumb will begin to faintly glow, as her hands were doing earlier, and if he watches closely, the small amount of skin that's been split apart will begin to move and reform itself, until the wound is sealed up entirely.
She moves her hand away to wipe the blood that dripped out on a handkerchief, before holding it back out to show him, clean and healed. It's as though there was never a wound at all. ]
no subject
He stretches his knee back out, a muted snapping noise leaving the abused joint. He's gotten used to the feeling — and while he doesn't say anything that would give her actual permission, he gives a slight nod.
Which is the Max equivalent.
When she goes check it, she'll find a damaged patella, a nasty little start of arthritis where the cartilage of the knee is worn down until there's little space left for the joints; there's plenty of scar tissue, too. It's from a bullet — through and through, in one side and out the other and wreaking havoc on the way.
It's hard to believe how long its been since he was shot by Toecutter's gang.
Of course, it's never been really treated. He made his own brace, practically forced it to heal — for better or worse — and drove while the last little pocket of civilization crumbled. It's not like he was about to drive back into that decaying town and have the same doctor that failed to repair his wife look at his battered body.]
no subject
He'll feel a very faint tingle -- not unpleasant, just different -- as she looks carefully at the joint, just barely letting her fingertips touch a few places at his knee as she does so. After a moment, she lets out a bit of an impressed exhale, blowing the air at her bangs. ]
It looks like you've had a lot of emergency care -- in fights, I'm guessing, you probably didn't have time to fix anything properly, so there's a lot of places that have healed incorrectly. The cartilage in your knee is pretty worn out, too -- which is probably a lot of the pain you're feeling.
[ She'll take her hand away, now ]
Well, the good news is, I think I could probably fix most of it in a few visits. I'd recommend at least letting me or one of the other doctors at least start treating the cartilage problem, since the more that wears away the less you're going to be able to bend and move your knee at all.
no subject
Thoughtful. Cautious as always, but thoughtful.]
Can trade you meat for medical care today.
[It's at least for today, anyway. The pain is something he's horribly used to, but if he can ease it through this sort of thing, it is a pretty big improvement over his usual. Scar tissue aside, he's aware there's a lot more going on in that messed up leg than he can tell.]
no subject
Eh?
... Oh, you don't need to trade anything. I don't need payment or anything like that to help! It's no trouble, really.
no subject
You work without pay or bartering?
[...............]
What a terrible idea.
no subject
I'm a battlefield medic, I'm not really in the business of charging people for the help they need.
[ Sure, there's probably doctors out there who charge for their long term services since it's their career, but that's not her. And even if it was ... ]
Besides, I have everything I need. I was just on the way back to the ship with some meat, myself. [ She nods her head towards the bag she was carrying before she stopped. ]
no subject
He supposes he gets it, now. Though even back home, he's not so sure that's a Thing people are willing to throw themselves at without some compensation. That's just how to survive, though, nothing against people who can't afford to be free with their work.]
Mm... I'll consider it.
[The help, that is.
Which is a really big thing to get from Max, okay. He's not a guy who employs help very often. He hates being indebted, even if someone claims it's free of cost... but she seems genuine, or at least was willing to stop and look at it for really no gain to herself.]
no subject
[ It doesn't seem like she was expecting much more than that, at least today. She'll straighten up now and reach into a small pouch on her leg, looking for something in it ]
If you decide you want me to fix it, you can get a hold of me on the SS Three Twins -- I'm Ino, the captain of that ship.
[ Aha! She produces what looks like a small wooden compact, holding it out for him to take. ]
In the meantime, this is some herbal salve I made. I have a ton of it, and there's more where that came from in the Iskaulit garden, so don't worry about taking it and owing me or whatever. It's a painkiller, so applying it to the skin around your knee will help with the swelling in the meantime.
no subject
... Really, he has a hard time accepting things from decent people. It's the world he evolved in, to not simply be given things — it's a world of taking and earning, and both of those are done with brutality and exertion, as most things are done.]
Mmm... I'll use it.
[He doesn't thank her, but he nods — perhaps humbly — before he slips it into his jacket pocket. She's only really given a softer expression, a more subdued look of gratitude.]
no subject
[ Pleased as punch, this girl. She'll leave the compact in his care, then, and shift the bag of meat one more time to carry it properly, before waving goodbye. ]
Okay, see you later, hopefully!
[ And off she goes ]