driftfleet | First Breath Mingle

[He looks up at her, before his mouth twists around the corner. He takes another sip of wine.]

I suppose there is some comfort in that. Not a great deal, but a little. [He looks up at her again.] Promise me something?

[Furiosa tilts her head curiously at him. She's not about to blindly promise anything, especially coming from a drunk, but if it's something reasonable she will consider it, for him.]

Whats that?

When they come for you - [And it is not an 'if' but a 'when' because he knows that they will. Somehow. Somewhere.] - promise me that you'll fight them until they're all bloody as corpses.

[He's giving her a level look, but he wants that. No clean exit, no sudden vanishing. He wants to know that she fought as hard as she did when she was here to stay alive. He ... needed to know that people fought to stay with the ones they cared about.]

[Well this was a tricky question to answer, because there's part of her that always wants to go home. She's needed. The Wives and the warpups and the ground dwellers. If Atroma did come for her, she had reason to go.]

[But Tyrion wasn't exactly in a place to hear that right now. She walks in and sits next to him, willing to devote more time to this conversation, to him.]

What's gotten into you?

[She takes the bottle and sets it aside; away from him. Maybe it's time to stop drinking, yeah?]

[He looks at the tank, and picks up his watering can - yes he made a watering can of all things - to water it. He glowers as she takes the wine away, but makes no argument besides that, as he's silent. Brooding.

Finally, he speaks.]

Lily and I .... we considered one another siblings, you know. She was the one sister I had that I could stand ... nay, loved. I love Lily. And she's gone. Everyone I love leaves, Furiosa. Even the ones who could have loved me died before I was even born.

[Ah, yes. Lily. Furiosa listens to him. She missed Lily as well but she hadn't been nearly as close to her as Tyrion was, apparently. She lets his words sink in, gives them a moment to breathe, and answers with a calm, soft tone.]

Tyrion, that's life. that's how it always is. [She thinks about her mother, Angharad, the Wives, she thinks about the way Max himself had just walked out of her life at the Citadel.] People will always come and go, whether it's here on this fleet or back at home.

[She's quiet for a long moment, debating how much of her own story she should tell him, or if any of it would even help.]

My mother and I were taken when I was a child, and she died. For a long time after, I had no love for anyone. [Seven thousand days, and the ones she couldn't remember..] I'm grateful I'm in a place that I have people I can care about here. I won't forget them if they leave, but I can't stop that from happening.

Edited 2016-11-19 14:44 (UTC)

Yes, it is life ... but must it always be so abrupt? Why must it always tear open some old wound like a dog with a bone? [He murmurs, half to her and half to himself.

When she started to tell her tale, he looked up. Gravely, quietly. He speaks quietly.] I am filled with sorrow, for your loss. I am pleased you do care about people now -- although ...

[He sighed, rubbing his face.] Although if you are right, then attachment is more dangerous than I realized.

But what's more dangerous? Accepting that attachment is dangerous because it'll hurt, or numbing yourself to it? I've been there. I prefer this.

[There's an edge to her tone; this discussion is definitely getting personal. It's reminding her of her time in the Citadel, as an Imperator, and all the various reasons she'd ever shunned attachment in the past. It reminds her of the contrast when she met the Wives, when they begged her to free them, when she did, and when, invariably, they each latched onto her heart in a different way and broke down that wall and made her realize she needed people in her life.]

What are you afraid of?

Debating logic with a drunk, morose man isn't exactly advisable, Furiosa ... mostly because I simply want to put my head on your bosum and wail 'But that's not fair'.

[He wobbled for a moment, because her words ... struck home. He was afraid - and whenever he was afraid he did go hide in a bottle. It gave him liquid courage to face the shithole that his life had been in Westeros.

Or it had at least made him numb enough not to care.

His stubby fingers lovingly caress a leaf.]

I am afraid of going back. I am afraid of losing what I never really had - true friendships, people who actually care about me and not how much money I have. I do not want to go back to my world, Furiosa. I do not want to be hunted, and hated, and hunt and hate in kind.

[She listens. No, 'debating locig with a drunk' was usually a futile excersize, but it did make a man more honest and give her a chance to see their intentions; Imperators would boast, and she'd find their weakness. War boys would wax poetic and she'd find their inspiration. And here, Tyrion told her his fears. She listens, fully invested, giving his words a moment to settle given their gravity. She commiserated, because she had been there; thinking there would never be a way out. Seven thousand days she had tried and hoped and failed and tried again.]

[And even as she withdrew, even as she fell more fully into the life of an Imperator under Immortan Joe's rule, she had never stopped looking for that moment, and when it came, she grabbed it like a steel trap.]

[She reaches out and sets her hand on his shoulder, and looks him in the eye.] I hope you don't have to face that, but if you do; don't ever stop fighting. If you came out of that world, then there has to be others who are worthwhile; look for them. Don't ever lose hope. That's what you have to promise me.

[He had spent his entire life getting drunk, and trying to lose himself in that drink. He tended to wax poetic -- but he also became his most truthful, most vulnerable self in some aspects. He stroked the leaf again, before he answered with that same quiet voice as he looks up at her.]

If I have lost hope, Furiosa, I have lost everything. That much ... that much I know. No coin, no family, no one who loves me -- but I have always hoped for better. That is both a failing when I seek through hope more than I can ask, and a blessing ... for I never give up. It is a promise ... easily given.

[His mouth twisted.] Finding others who agree will be slightly more difficult.

[Furiosa smiles at him, small, but genuine.]

Then I will fight tooth and nail if the Atroma come for me.

[The Wives had proven themselves clever and quick-witted, and they had the benefit of the remaining Vuvalini. Perhaps the people here had a greater need for her? She brought her hand down and offered it to Tyrion to shake on their pact.]

[He looked at her for a long, long moment, before he took her hand and shook it firmly. Then after a moment, he took it up to his lips and kissed it gently. His voice came out ... hoarse.]

Thank you.

[That's ... unexpected. It takes Furiosa a few moments to process, but she doesn't let go. She reminds herself he's drunk. But, it was still a fruitful conversation.]

You're welcome.

[Her voice is soft, but steady. She gives his hand a little squeeze, then lets go, and reaches back for his wine bottle to hand it back to him.]

Maybe ... you'll want to cut down on this.

[But, she sets it down for him to make his own decision about.]

[He gives her a keen look, before his mouth twisted up into a wry smile as she puts the bottle in front of him.]

Maybe ... I shall.

[He sighed, heavily, before he dropped back into his seat.]

Maybe I'll just stare broodingly into space for awhile instead.

Don't turn into Max, I've already got my hands full with one.

[Teasing, of course. but also a light warning not to obsess himself with brooding. She stands to leave.] If you change your mind about brooding, let me know.

I would never. Even I cannot perfect that expression of sheer doom.

[Tyrion stated with a hint of teasing tartness, before he smirked at her.] No worries. Allow me to sober up a little and I shall come and thrash you with chess soon enough.

[She knows a little about where that expression comes from, the sort of things that's honed it into Max's being, so she can't exactly share Tyrion's lightness of it, remaining unreadable herself for a moment. She does smirk with his mention of chess, though]

It's no challenge if we already know who's going to win, but -- I'd be open to learning if you'd rather teach me instead.

Now that - I will be pleased to do.

[He gave her another bow.] I am a fierce taskmaster, though. If you are to learn from me, I shall make you one of the best so we have more players to go around.

[She smiles a little wider.]

I wouldn't ask for anything less.

[It would be good - welcome, even - to find something to pull and stretch herself in the quiet stillness of the Fleet.]

Well good, because you would get no quarter regardless.

[He grinned in turn, before he sat himself down.] ... clearly this is after the world stops spinning in the opposite direction.

[She chuckles, disappears for a moment, and returns with a cup of water. She sets it down within reach.]

Better get it to stop; you have a ship to tend to.

[Not that there's much going on, but ... she is leaving him in control.]

I'll check back later.

Tsk, that's you making a rather good point.

[He did, however, he took up a glass of water.]

Okay.

First Breath Mingle

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