Open | A Monthly Starstruck Mingle!!

[theroadwarrior]

Who: The SS Starstruck's crew and visitors...!
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Aboard the SS Starstruck
When: November 1st—31st!

Everyone get your mingle on for November! This is a quick post for the Starstruck, have at it.

Comments

[noprophecies]

Nothing like this exists where I am from, no.

[she shrugs a shoulder with a smile] The music is very different, too.

[theroadwarrior]

[Hmmm. He considers the record player, memories hidden in his distant stare.]

This doesn't really exist where m'from, either.

Not really. Not anymore. Most of it's gone.

[noprophecies]

Gone? Do things like that just - disappear?

[theroadwarrior]

The world folded in on itself.

[He glances at her, frowning.]

Ended with war. Not much left but sand, blood, fire... Water's hard to come by, and the ocean's hard to find. Not great.

[It's sad, but it's what Max knows now.]

[noprophecies]

[she frowns as well. It's one of those times where, as much as she hates her own world, she realizes that it can be much better than others'. She remembers he mentioned it, and Furiosa as well, being a wasteland]

It does not sound great.

[theroadwarrior]

[He shrugs.]

Is what it is.

[Says the guy who was recently nearly kidnapped and sold into slavery. Even if he's skittish from the ordeal, it doesn't seem to bother him as much as it probably should have. Maybe that has something to do with the thick scar poking out from the collar of his shirt — a brand of a skull and flames, some kind of odd signature from many months passed at the nape of his neck.]

Ahh... When it's normal for you, you don't think about it.

[noprophecies]

Mmm, that makes sense. It is the same for my world - most things I do not give a second thought to here, because it is normal.

[she glances over at him and - her frown deepens, and it's only because she doesn't know him well enough that she keeps her hands to herself. But she can't help but stare at it, before she has to address it]

The mark on your neck - that is not magical, yes?

[what an odd question]

[theroadwarrior]

[His jaw twitches, eyes focused on the record player.]

No.

[He tugs on the shirt, to mask the hidden portion. Apparently his way of cutting off dialogue about it — but then, quietly, he does give her some semblance of an answer as he puts away scattered tools he should have already moved.]

S'a brand.

[noprophecies]

So I see. That's why I asked.

[her tone is a touch gentler than she'd normally use, but it is a touchy subject. But the answer is enough for her and she crosses her arms, humming quietly in acceptance]

I have one on my shoulder. [she offers after a moment. May as well explain why she asked]

[theroadwarrior]

[... He glances at her, a sort of up-and-down judgement. Shoulder to face, shoulder to face. In the meanwhile, he considers what to say. She did help him incredibly, but she's also still a stranger to him in many, many ways. He wodners what prompts her honesty. Perhaps she's just far more open about things than Max, who keeps his memories and self shut tight as a clam.

The offer of information to compliment his own is nice, though.

It soothes him, just a bit. He touches his neck, palm against risen skin.]

It was for ownership. I gave blood.

[He'd told Peggy. It was... strange, to tell someone. Furiosa already knew, never had to really talk about it. Because she understood without words. He forgets that not everyone can simply comprehend him with just a look.]

[noprophecies]

[she doesn't expect him to elaborate. In fact, she expected him to change the subject, or say nothing at all, and she'd be the one looking to change the subject. But instead, she's wrinkling her nose in disgust - not at him, of course, but the reasoning behind the mark]

Gave blood. [was he forced to? Probably. Ownership sort of implied that] I did not know people were branded for that.

[after a moment she shrugs, as if to herself, and reaches up to tug down the collar of her shirt, enough for her brand to be seen. It's not as big or elaborate, but there's a circle with lines through the middle, burnt into the skin of her shoulder]

I died. This was left behind by the man who brought me back. Forbidden magic.

[theroadwarrior]

.... Branding property. That's all.

[Didn't matter if it was for being a bloodbag, or being their soldier.

The tattoo that went with the brand is far worse.]

Why's it forbidden?

[noprophecies]

Ah. That sounds a bit more familiar.

[don't show her the tattoo, she'd very likely lose her temper very quickly.

She purses her lips, eyes darting away briefly. This was sharing information she'd only shared with a few others willingly. And even then, only the barest of details. She lets out a slow breath]

It is an old kind of sacrificial blood magic. For it to work, one must sacrifice a piece of oneself - or another. The bigger the spell, the bigger the piece. It's very powerful, and very dangerous.

[she touches the brand before letting her hand drop] Among other reasons, the cost is much greater than the outcome. All magic comes with a price, but it's balanced. Blood magic like that isn't.

[theroadwarrior]

[It's so bizarre to him, to hear about magic.

But at least he's had time to adjust to the idea of it being real for others.]

The cost.

Other lives?

[If it was a greater outcome, he figured trading one life for others seemed like the next step in this tragedy.]

[noprophecies]

[she crosses her arms with a shake of her head]

Among other costs.

[theroadwarrior]

[He tilts his chin back slightly, straightening.]

Not your fault, though.

[Just an observation, in case she needed it.]

[noprophecies]

No, it's not.

[were it even magic she could cast, she wouldn't. She quirks a half-smile at him] Just like this - [she frees a hand to gesture to the back of her own neck, then nods to him] Is not your fault, yes?

[theroadwarrior]

[He stares at her for a moment.]

... Mm. Yes.

[For once, he has something he doesn't find some fault for within himself. Good for him.

He's quiet for a moment.]

Almost got you killed, though.

[It's spoken as if reciting a fact, emotionless, but it's all in the sharp contemplation of the eyes.]

[noprophecies]

[she blinks, before her smile widens. Fond, if a bit amused as well]

That is not your fault either.

[theroadwarrior]

[Don't you smile at me like that. B|]

Wasn't careful enough. They were aiming to find me; should've been paying attention.

... Rusty.

[noprophecies]

[prepare yourself, Max, she's about to unleash a whole 'nother side]

You do not seem like the sort of man who becomes "rusty".

Now, if you said it was because you are getting old, that I would believe.

[and there it is]

1/2

[theroadwarrior]

[how fucking dare you]

[theroadwarrior]

... Guess I am getting really old...

[Your fourties is old, by wasteland logic.

He rubs the scruff on his chin, as if it's like checking the rings of a tree.

Hmnnnph... A few gray hairs... is the thought process.

Sorry, were you saying something? He is in deep contemplation.]

[noprophecies]

[. . . oh no . . . oh no did he take her seriously.

She tries, she really tries to keep a straight face, but when he begins to look like he's thinking deeply about it she covers her mouth as she bursts into laughter]

1/2

[theroadwarrior]

[what]