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)
driftfleet2016-01-08 02:44 pm
theroadwarrior) wrote in driftfleet2016-01-08 02:44 pm
Entry tags:
action.
Who: Max and the crew of the SS Starstruck and any visitors.
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Max is sick after falling into a frozen lake. He is insufferable about it.he's been awful active for an antisocial dude
When: January 8-9th-ish.
[After a rather disappointing day of nearly freezing to death thanks to big ugly creatures, hallucinations, and generalized know-nothingness of an arctic terrain, Max is confined (at last) to a bed aboard the SS Starstruck. Well, partly. A slight fever and a sneezy, lethargic exposition is apprently not enough to keep him pinned down.
A sick Max is even more insufferable, turns out.
It's just — difficult for him to explain in words, what being still does to him. It's one thing to sit in a driver's seat, or even a passenger's seat, and to get out and feel your ass and legs numbed after hours of going on and on until the guzzoline runs dry. At least you can see the open world whizzing passed you.
But a bed. For one thing, Max hasn't slept in an actual bed in... He's not sure how many days. Not counting the rare occurrences, he's not even sure he's slept in anything more than a car's reclined seat since he first began his journey on the dystopian-gone-apocalyptic roadways. This is torturous. He's fairly sure Peggy and Nami and Furiosa are out to get him for sure. As it turns out, no-nonsense women are still far and beyond his greatest weakness and adversary. He's been shed of his bulky uncomfortable jacket and left in his mid-sleeve shirt, and in that way he's looking like an paradox: the most comfortable discomforted man in the galaxy.
So yep, when people aren't looking, he's getting up and wandering back into the cargo holds, where he had originally spent most of his time. In fact, one could probably board a shuttle and find him passed out asleep in the driver's seat, swaddled up in blankets. And still with a mildly sour disposition. Be careful waking him, he swings sometimes.
He only wanders to the main control room, where the crew would pilot their ship, when it's empty enough. Otherwise, he'll dip into the kitchen and eat, because being sick back home didn't mean avoiding food; if you were needing sustenance and it was there, you had to keep going, force something down to keep your strength up. Max was fairly good at it.
Unlike... you know. Being horrible at staying put.
On the bright side, he doesn't consider returning to the planet?
Not yet, anyway.]
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Max is sick after falling into a frozen lake. He is insufferable about it.
When: January 8-9th-ish.
[After a rather disappointing day of nearly freezing to death thanks to big ugly creatures, hallucinations, and generalized know-nothingness of an arctic terrain, Max is confined (at last) to a bed aboard the SS Starstruck. Well, partly. A slight fever and a sneezy, lethargic exposition is apprently not enough to keep him pinned down.
A sick Max is even more insufferable, turns out.
It's just — difficult for him to explain in words, what being still does to him. It's one thing to sit in a driver's seat, or even a passenger's seat, and to get out and feel your ass and legs numbed after hours of going on and on until the guzzoline runs dry. At least you can see the open world whizzing passed you.
But a bed. For one thing, Max hasn't slept in an actual bed in... He's not sure how many days. Not counting the rare occurrences, he's not even sure he's slept in anything more than a car's reclined seat since he first began his journey on the dystopian-gone-apocalyptic roadways. This is torturous. He's fairly sure Peggy and Nami and Furiosa are out to get him for sure. As it turns out, no-nonsense women are still far and beyond his greatest weakness and adversary. He's been shed of his bulky uncomfortable jacket and left in his mid-sleeve shirt, and in that way he's looking like an paradox: the most comfortable discomforted man in the galaxy.
So yep, when people aren't looking, he's getting up and wandering back into the cargo holds, where he had originally spent most of his time. In fact, one could probably board a shuttle and find him passed out asleep in the driver's seat, swaddled up in blankets. And still with a mildly sour disposition. Be careful waking him, he swings sometimes.
He only wanders to the main control room, where the crew would pilot their ship, when it's empty enough. Otherwise, he'll dip into the kitchen and eat, because being sick back home didn't mean avoiding food; if you were needing sustenance and it was there, you had to keep going, force something down to keep your strength up. Max was fairly good at it.
Unlike... you know. Being horrible at staying put.
On the bright side, he doesn't consider returning to the planet?
Not yet, anyway.]
Action
Mm. Hey.
[His faintly flushed expression grows a bit more puzzled as his gaze drifts across the supplies, landing on the plant. As if he can't comprehend that maybe she's legitimately bringing him things to help with his sickness.]
Re: Action
[She doesn't flinch, since she was already half expecting him to wake in such a manner. She points down to the supplies in the seat, her prosthetic is different, cobbled together from items she'd found on her own ship.]
Tea, soup, scarf, tissues ... [She points up at the plant,] Air. This one you can' have, I'll need it back when you're better. [It was more the image of green that kept her morale up when she was feeling under the weather, but the idea of having her own fresh oxygen supply didn't hurt either.]
Action
Aahm.
[He'd never say as much, but he's humbled by the offer of the plant. He knows even by their short time together how much she appreciated the green, appreciated the image of home. The Citadel would have so much more for her to enjoy, this time free to sow the seeds herself with the others. It's unfair that she's here, but life is so unfair. And this is not as dangerous as their world. Small mercies.
Perhaps it's better for her here.
He leans forward to inspect the plant a careful touch not characteristic of him. The blanket slips down and reveals the healed Citadel mark at the base of his neck — the reminder of home, one that he isn't so sure is as awful as it was before. After all, while it's... a memory of being used, it's also a symbol of what the Wives and she now owned.
Though he imagines they'll likely change it from Joe's old vision.
Better to look at it more positively. Unlike the tattoo.]
Where'd it come from?
Action
[She turns to settle her back against the console and cross her arms. She appreciated the gentle touch he had with the plant; it was pretty much her most prized possession here.]
Asteffiel gave it to me. He's on the Tourist. He's a plant-person. Walking, talking flora.
Action
Traveling worlds has really done a number on him.]
Nice of them.
[That was sort of a compliment to the guy! Good on ya', Max.]
Last place I was at... Think you would've liked it.
Dangerous, but not as bad as home; it was all green.
Action
Really? I'm sorry I missed that. [Not like she had a choice in the matter.] I guess it's not unlikely that we could find someplace like that here; the last planet we stopped at was all desert.
[Desert, not Wasteland, since there was a difference, but the temperature was right.]
Action
Maybe we'll stop by that planet. We could pick up the others.
[Snort.
Though...
Though —
He would. Ask to stop there, pick them all up. He... likes most of them. The chicklet, Tadashi, Mystique — Rey, even. There are many who deserve to be saved from that to this.]
The ground water there, it was acidic. Turned bad. The rain was good, though.
[He leans back with a sigh.]
Food supply was getting bad, too. Not sure why. The animals were all getting rabid. Mangy.
[There's an unspoken concern, maybe.
Stupid Tranquility.]
Re: Action
[They could both be accused of being decent people. The planet he talks about loses some of its luster, but she finds herself wondering how much she'd be willing to put up with for a green place. Admittedly, probably a lot.]
[She tilts her head to see his old wound a little better, the motions to it almost idly.]
What happened here?
Action
A woman who could light her body on fire tried to murder me.
[So casual, you know how it is. One minute you're pals, the next she's shattering the bones in your knee.]
Action
Dare I even ask what you did? [Humor, but then they tried to kill each other once so she's not entirely sure fire-chick is one hundred percent at fault.
Action
She was... uh — they called it a White Room, what she'd visited. Mind-washed her. When the ship we were in was going down, it didn't want us to interfere, so it triggered her to attack. [He shrugs. It's confusing, but so's the rest of the Tranquility.] Got into a fight. Bullets didn't work right away.
Re: Action
Did you end up killing her?
[Because it sounds like it was a matter of survival and, well ... Max is the one sniffling here infront of her today. Dimly she's aware that might not make much of a difference, considering Nux was once here at all, but she can't help but make the assumption, based on their own world and experiences.]
Action
Tried not to.
[He actually liked her, somewhat. Made for him trying to be a better person.]
She lived through it, but she... hm... wasn't a human.
[And then he ran into her again and she almost choked him to death.
But that's because he was hallucinating violently after getting cured of some forced amnesia and had flashed back to that time where she was trying to smash his knees and broke his arm — and you know, maybe this is best left in brackets.]
Action
It's been amazing to me the sort of ... creatures, there exist out there. You don't really get a chance to think about what might be going on outside the Wastelands, let alone the universe.
[She falls quiet in thought, reaching out herself to brush a finger over a green leaf of the plant, thinking about the people she's met so far in this Fleet. She frowns slightly.] There's someone on my ship I'm not too sure about. [She's not about gossip, but there are few people she trusted more than Max in this fleet.]
Action
Do we need to kill 'em later?
[Or is he reaching improper conclusions.
He does that sometimes.]
Action
[In response, she shakes her head.] No. I just want to know your opinion, since you've been in this situation before, with other universes. He said at home he was ... 'building an army to secure his rights.'
[Hopefully she won't have to explain to Max why that's a problem for her.]
Action
Doubt the Atroma'll let them. They have the power here.
[He knows well enough... whoever brings them here is the strongest force of all.]
They any more specific?
Re: Action
Action
D'you have a blade on you yet?
Re: Action
Action
Then they must not like him. Or he put a curse on your ship. [He reaches into his the back of his waistband, putting a decent-sized knife with the blade sheathed in a simple leather container — built to conceal, shorter but better for quick jabs — and offering it to her hilt-first.] Should stay on you, though. It's stayed on me.
[At least then you'll have a decent shanking weapon.]
Action
Thanks. Here's hoping I won't need it.
Action
He's really sick of being sick.]
Hope not. If you need help using it, just, um. Let me know.
[He'll come help murder someone for ya'. He's great like that.]
He threaten anyone?
Action
[And she shouldn't take up too much more of Max's time; he looks like shit.]
Not yet. I'm going to keep an eye on him. [She looks at Max carefully.] You need me, you know where to reach me.
Action
[He looks after her as she prepares to go, but then he sits up a bit.]
Aaah, ah. The plant. [He stops, clears his throat gruffily.] It's important to you.
[What he's asking is, are you sure you wanna leave it with him?]
Action
1/2
2/3 nope
(no subject)