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]

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]

[theroadwarrior]

[Trying to tease me, wow.

He huffs at her.]

Funny.

[noprophecies]

[Ma you are a precious old man stop endearing yourself to her]

I am quite humorous at times.

I don't actually think you are old, Max.

[theroadwarrior]

[He raises his eyebrows at her.]

Why, r'you old?

[He's just an old soul, but he knows there are some crazy folk around here with insanely high numbers. The weirdos. Also note how he gives no shits asking how old you are; that's just his charm, okay.]

[noprophecies]

[it's charming, at least to her. And she does deserve it]

Is almost twenty-nine old?

[theroadwarrior]

[Dryly:]

Very old.

[noprophecies]

[without missing a beat:]

Goodness, that must mean that you are practically ancient.

[theroadwarrior]

[He quirks his brow.]

I can be. Back home, m'considered lucky.

People get sick early.

... Could be radioactive, though.

[He's never really looked into it. But if it is killing him, it's at least slowly.]

[noprophecies]

I don't know what that word means.

[but she knows about getting sick early, having spent her younger years sick all the time. Her smile doesn't budge]

I am young for my kind, but not many live to be my age, either. So I suppose I am both, in a sense.

[theroadwarrior]

... I see.

[He hums, then looks at his hands.]

Radioactive means... poisoned. There was... a poisoning, uh. Of the earth.

Lot of people sick, lot dead. Got lucky, I guess.

[He's seen both the least painful and absolute worst effects of it, firsthand.

It's nightmare fuel, to be sure.]

[noprophecies]

Ah . . . your desert.

[she can't picture the earth being sick. The effects it would have on her own world would be catastrophic - much like his]

I would say you are incredibly lucky, then.

[theroadwarrior]

Mn, my desert.

[Not the best place in the world, but it's home. Terrible, awful, avoidable, hot, sweaty, miserable home. The one he's still torn about. Max is a complicated soul forged from the fires of the place.]

Luck's about all you work with.

...

And ahm, handmade bombs.


N'guns.

[noprophecies]

Guns. [the face she makes is entirely disgusted] Though I suppose it is necessary . . .