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

[kill_switch]

[Coffee is Furiosa's one indulgence. She's got a much different connection to it than Max, in that she had never had it herself until she arrived here, but she recalled - slowly, not clearly - something about the Many Mothers, the ones old enough to remember, mentioning it back in the Green Place - I'd kill for a cup of coffee. Doesn't even have to be good. Little comments like those, during an early morning, where the sun glinted off of the dew. It brought back such disjointed but bright points in her past.]

[She ladles the soup into a couple bowls and places them on the table, and then fishes out a cup and a mug and gets Max his water and her her coffee.]

[Water was still a luxury, and she hadn't taken for granted the fact that it was more or less readily available here; filling his cup in such a way as not to waste a single drop. She sets it on the table and then settles down infront of her bowl.]

I don't know if this is why you came here but there you go, eat.

[theroadwarrior]

... Mmn. [He clears his throat a little.] Thanks.

[A rare thing to hear, certainly, from Max. But he's been trying to be a little more polite to the people he finds earns it from him. His face is ducked slightly as he speaks though. It's a strange thing, to try and be someone else. To try and adapt in new ways. Max is great at adapting, but also so very bad at it, because he's him and it's difficult to flip that switch anymore. Lights are all burned out, bulbs busted.

But he does try.

Maybe it counts for something. He slowly stirs the meal, thoughtful.

He's never liked the busted beast looking back at him, in the reflections.]

Do you ever think... this place is a — mistake?

[kill_switch]

[She finds his gratitude to be odd, but then again they've both been here a while, and she knows she's been changed by this place. She eats in silence, offering him a small smile in return.]

[She lets his question sit, chewing thoughtfully as she turns it over in her head.]

I think there's a lot of things wrong with it.

[And she's certainly not going to sing its praises for the few benefits it does afford,] I don't know if I'd call it a mistake. Bad idea, maybe? Or, a good idea with the wrong intentions.

[The Fleet itself ... she didn't so much mind. The being recorded part was weird, and denying them the choice to leave was torturous.] Do you regret being here?

[theroadwarrior]

[He eats quietly as she speaks, and some things don't particularly change; comfortable in her presence, he hardly makes that intensely cautious eye contact he'd make with others while he's so vulnerable as to eat and drop his guard. But it's true; things are changing. Little things at first. Big things later. It had been yet another transformation, like the one he'd undergone on the war rig. A peeling away of the layers, maybe.

Max doesn't particularly see how intense that change is, going from non-verbal and animalistic to patiently having a meal with a friend he calls by name. Maybe he'll realize it eventually, in the midst of one. But one supposes others notice. Have been noticing. Max will continue to grumble at their amusement and interest either way.]

... I don't know.

Some days.

[He glances up.]

If I go back home, I have to... adjust again. It could just be... making things harder.

[Like when a human raises a wild animal, and it can't remember how to survive on its own anymore. It's a terrible realization, really. Max wonders if these people can see the terrible affect.]

[kill_switch]

[Her relationship with Max at this point was easy - he was best if she just let him be, and she knew when to intervene (such as now, making sure he ate) and how. It's not forceful. It just is.]

[She doesn't flinch when he looks up, mentioning going back and how hard that would be. She figures it wouldn't be easy for her either; she's aware she's gone soft here. But, she would hopefully have the Wives and the Vuvalini and the rest of the Citadel to lean on as she found her footing again.]

You're always welcome at the Citadel. [She cocks a self-aware little grin,] I promise I intend on running things a little differently, if we ever get back.

[theroadwarrior]

[He's so very used to this — somehow, some way, someone is welcoming him to their group. Asking him to follow, or to join them. An extension, an offer to not be alone. And time and time and time again he resists and runs. Because if he's around, something terrible is bound to happen. Potentially because of him. And, in some sad way, he's predestined himself to dying alone somewhere, like a dog, because that's what needs to happen. And that's really his own fault; he knows that.

So again, the offer's extended, and he looks at her sincerely, with a heavy hesitance and a softer smoothing of his usually perturbed brow.]

When I left, mmm... Wasn't going to come back.

[He thinks she knows that. When they saw each other that last time.

He was proud of her, but he couldn't join them. He didn't have that right.

It wasn't his place.

But now, forced to see these faces everyday and live among them with no escape...]

I don't know.

[kill_switch]

I know. I hadn't expected to see you again.

[That last look they'd had back in their own world had been what she expected was their goodbye. She had her world to take care of, and he had his; he was the enduring spirit of survival out in the Wastelands.]

[But then they find themselves here, forced to deal with people and with themselves; it's unexpected and complicated. Even then Furiosa is aware of her advantage having to deal with people in the past; Max, obviously, hasn't had that - or if he had it's so far removed it's not a part of him anymore. She can only guess, and she gives him the benefit of not.]

We'll just have to take it as it comes.

[theroadwarrior]

[He falls quiet, thoughtful, as he eats.

Then, softly — ]

Maybe. Could visit, someday.

... Like... t'see what you do with it.

[kill_switch]

I'd like that.

[Equally soft, thoughtful. She finishes up her meal and settles back in her seat.]

Here's hoping there's something to get back to. [She didn't doubt the Wives now, not after everything they've been through, but they were her family now; there was a desire to protect. She couldn't do that from here.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He smiles just the slightest.]

Mm. Here's hoping.

[He doesn't do much of that.

But he supposes he could entertain it, just for the moment.]