[Closed-ish] and here's the flipside

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Max Rockatansky (still 22... for a bit...) and you.
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Iskaulit, Starstruck, etc.
When: the days before the 8th. Follow-up to his first post. It may also involve threads after Max reverts back, to keep things all together.

Max slowly reverts back to his old ways -- and it's terrifying.

Warnings for mental illness, PTSD, and the situations that may arise from them! There will be top comments for different people inside; if you're interested in tagging into this with Max as he reverts back to older!Max, hit me up via PP on plurk or PM, and we can flesh something out!)

Comments

Max & Furiosa | the captain's room

[theroadcop]

[Memories keep coming. Killing people out in the hot sun, pillaging from the remnants of camps that have been obliterated by hungry men and women. They're short, confusing moments that come and go, leaving his knees weak and his mind whirling. Where is it all coming from? His headache is gonna fuckin' kill him.

The overwhelming feeling that hits him is like an elephant sitting on his chest, and he isn't sure there's a safe place to be. He zones out, legs moving him against his will. It's how he ends up in a familiar captain's room, where he finds a corner that seems safest and crams himself there, gun sitting beside him where he can reach it. He doesn't know why he'd need it. He feels like he's waiting for something terrible to catch up with him.

But the gun, it can help someday.

He loses track of time.]

action

[kill_switch]

[There were a lot of things working against Furiosa of late; the appearance of the smoky woman (who she's not entirely certain was even real or just a figment of her imagination, missing knife notwithstanding), preoccupation with the realization that Angharad was no longer with the Fleet and had most likely gone home to her tragic fate, wondering what to do about Max, and then MAx's general sneaking skills.]

[To say the least, and especially given his demeanor the last she talked to him, is to find him in her room. She stop, and stares, noticing the gun and waiting that fraction of a moment to see how he reacts.]

action

[theroadcop]

[He glances up at her, then looks back down between his bent legs. There's a shame there that he can't quite shake, fists pressed against his temples. He clears his throat, but the quiet anxiety is obvious as it falls out from between his teeth]

I don't... I don't know why I'm here.

[He runs his fingers through his hair, makes fists there, tugs loosely in frustration. He doesn't look at her.]

For some reason, I just -- came here. I remember it's quiet.

Re: action

[kill_switch]

[She relaxes slightly, but keeps back; mindful of his space.]

It's safe here. We didn't have many safe places in our world ... I like to make sure there's always a safe place here. [And her quarters on her ship is the easiest to ensure.]

You have come here before. [She's not sure if he knows he's been here, or if she should really be telling him, but uncertainty can be as much of a killer as a sour truth. She'd keep it brief, concise, leave out the details and speculation and stick with the immediate.]

action

[theroadcop]

[He laughs, humorless and edged with something sad.]

I've come here before. Alright.

[He rubs his hands over his face.]

I'm remembering things I shouldn't. We've fought before. You almost broke my nose. I threw sand at your eyes; I was a monster, some kind of feral psychotic. I can remember some f'it. Don't want to, but I can see it.

[Things trickling in. Frightening things.

Some of which he's pretending is made up.

Because he can't think of the alternative: that it's all true.]

Re: action

[kill_switch]

[She nods, taking a careful seat on the bed.] We had a rocky start, but we worked it out.

[She wondered why this was happening to him, but it was an invisible enemy; this wasn't something she could protect him from.] You were just trying to survive. You weren't the worst obstacle I've encountered.

action

[theroadcop]

[He squeezes a hand into a fist, expression tired.

There are bits and pieces, memories needing shape. Needing clarity.]

Why were we fighting...?

action

[kill_switch]

Survival. You needed to get away, I had a vehicle. That's how it is in our world. [That's why she installed a kill switch.]