video. (guess who was spared.)

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Max Rockatansky
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Starstruck if you wanna find him!
When: In the middle of this glitchapocalypse.



[...................................................]





... Why is everyone acting crazy?



I'm supposed to be the crazy one.



[That is literally his post. That's it. He's done.

Guess who hasn't been paying attention after everyone attempted messing with the comms and whatnot.

... He already hallucinates and has mood shifts and whatnot, so what's new.]

Comments

[theroadwarrior]

[HUFFFF.]

Everyone's batshit.

Don't know what good it'll do, hiding from crazy in a crazy man's room, though.

[kill_switch]

At least I understand your crazy.

[A small pause, because a lot of her leaving First Breath right now actually had little to do with escaping other people,]

... and I like to think you get mine. [Nope, she hasn't been immune to it, either.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He plops down on the edge of the bed, giving her a decent length of space between them.]

'Course I do.

You make plenty of sense to a madman in the desert.

[kill_switch]

That's comforting to hear. [Was that a joke? Maybe. Maybe not. Sure sighs and leans forward, resting her good seen along her knees.]

I kept ... Seeing things, as if they were there. Warboys, the Wives. Swore I had a conversation with Ace earlier before i realized what was going on.

[theroadwarrior]

[He bites his lip, unsure.]

... From hitting your head, or the, ahm... glitches?

[One is considerably more concerning than the other.]

[kill_switch]

[She looks over at him, frowning slightly, confused.] It's ... hard to tell. The glitches certainly had an effect a couple days ago which may have ... complicated things.

[What's this is she possibly admitting she's hit a road-bump in recovery]

[theroadwarrior]

[He hums, looming a bit. She'll have to just forgive him for that, he can't help it.]

... Hn.

I usually try to tell how real things are by my bad ear. Maybe you can plug 'em, see if it lets you know the difference by the sound.

[kill_switch]

[If it were anyone else she would have minded the looming. As it is, she gives him a look, but shrugs.]

It's worth a try, I guess.

Have you been alright throughout this?

[theroadwarrior]

Me?

[He looks a bit surprised, before leaning back.]

Think they probably figure I'm already glitching on my own. No need to do it for me.

[Only Max would say that about invasive hallucinations, but you know.

It's Max.]

[kill_switch]

So, no more than usual?

[That was good to hear, at least. He was used to dealing with it.]

[ But as she was watching him, the ship bled away. There was a the distortion from heat, she's sitting on a bike. She closes her eyes for a moment a shakes her head, it's not so bad right now, she knows where she is, but it's disorienting all the same.]

Maybe the fleet wanted is to live in your world for a bit.

[theroadwarrior]

[He smiles thinly — sympathetically, perhaps, though it's a rarity for him.

As far apologies. Though this one is more casual — talkative. He's learned a bit.]

Sorry. Didn't mean to give them ideas.

[kill_switch]

Not your fault. I can handle it.

[She looks back up at him, but her small smile vanishes in a moment. Instead of Max, she was looking at Valkyrie - alive and well. She knows it's Max, knows what she isn't seeing is real, but it's a gut punch all the same. She looks back down at her hands, watches the sand blowing by her feet. She felt the same crushing sadness that she'd experienced when she found out about the fate of the Green Place. Maybe She was wrong, maybe she couldn't handle this.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He watches with a frown. For a moment he leaves her to the memory, but then moves, hobbling over to one of his stashes of supplies and plucking up a bottle of strong whiskey. He pushes it into her hands.]

Mmm... Here. Focus on this.

Smell it.

[He pops the top off, holding it under her nose.]

No liquor like this back home. The glass is new n' clean. Feel the blanket under your hand. Too smooth, huh? [He reaches to take her flesh hand, putting it on her prosthetic.] ... Find the differences. Cling to 'em. You won't lose yourself in the memories.

[kill_switch]

[The smell is pungent, and she recoils reflexively, but then follows his advice and inhales deeply. Grips the blanket, grips her arm as he directs her. But it's an intense, and overwhelming moment, because he still sounds like Valkyrie, too. It drives home the loss and she's hit with a crippling sense of homesickness for a place that doesn't exist anymore and people who are no longer alive.

She leans forward, feeling her feet pressing into the sand, hearing the bike creaking slightly under her, moving for the whiskey again and gripping her hand over Max's in an attempt to ground her. She's filled with a tension, an internal war of what she knows to be real (Max, the ship, the whiskey), and what she knows is hallucination (vivid, enveloping), the lingering recovery from her concussion, the dredged up memories and pain she'd done so well to move on from. All together, it's too much.]

[theroadwarrior]

[Come on, Furiosa, he knows you can do it. If someone like him can, he knows you can.

He sets aside the bottle, moves to put his hand on her neck, a familiar spot, palm rough there on the nape, against her brand. With his other, he moves her hand to the nape of his — where the rough brand is. Best he can think to do, because nothing else is really helping. He's not even sure why he thinks this will, either. In that soft voice, familiar, though unused toward her since she'd nearly died:]

... Hey. Relax.

M'here, just ride it out. Think about the fleet.

[kill_switch]

[It does help. It's something that Valkyrie didn't have, and it's enough at odds with what seems to be the center of the hallucination that she focuses on it. Palm flat against his brand, then moving to run fingertips along the raised edges to further enforce the shape. His voice cuts through in the distance, overlapping with the memory off what Valkyrie sounded like and then overtaking it until she faded away on a dying wind. Furiosa shifts her feet and there is the scrape of her boot against the metal floor.]

[It might only be the matter of a few moments but it feels like eternity. Eventually she's able to pull in a deep breath and open her eyes and see the truth about them. She's left feeling unsettled and fatigued, but found. She flattens her hand against the nape of his neck and touches her forehead against his in quiet thanks.]

[theroadwarrior]

[It takes him a while to actually feel appropriately aware of the way this situation looks — he leans into it, not smiling but expression relaxed and eyes closed for a moment, wary of her state of mind, ready to figure out some other solution if the problem at hand persisted. It's only when the silence truly is silent and he only hears her breathing alongside his that he feels like maybe he should move before this becomes weird for the both of them.

He leans slowly back and looks at the ground in the room, perhaps embarrassed of his own openness, for a moment. It happens more and more lately. Sitting with his hands on the edge of the mattress, while he's not necessarily distant, he's clearly used that small well of fragmented but surviving humanity within him, the one that leaves him as confused as ever.

His ears redden.]

... Should, um. Rest. You'll feel better if you can sleep some of it off.

[kill_switch]

[It takes Max breaking away and looking at the ground for Furiosa to realize how else it could seem. She looks away at one of the odd boxes in feigned interest, letting herself settle more fully back into reality. The air hit her a little colder than the sorched wasteland and she shivered, but she was grateful for it because she knew it was real.]

Thanks. [It really went without saying, but it wasn't a bad thing to break the silence with.] I'll give it a try. You don't mind me staying here for a little longer, do you?

[Some of it was getting away from the First Breath and its possible influence, but then having Max here to help pull her back was a comforting fact she couldn't ignore - if only to herself.]

[theroadwarrior]

'Course not.

[That's a given. Furiosa's free to come and go however she pleases.

He stands up, moves to the corner and sets aside a box before offering her a small blanket; it's old and stitched together, much like a spontaneous quilt, but it's warm and comfortable.]

M'gonna, um, work on some equipment. Send a message f'you need anything.

[kill_switch]

[She'll take the blanket, and sit with it in her lap for a moment. She knows it's really no question about whether or not she's welcome - and it'd be the same if the tables were turned and they were on the First Breath - but something has shifted and she feels at least some level of intrusion. It's not just the physical occupation of space, but having him - needing him - help her through the hallucination made her realize how grateful she was for him and more aware, perhaps, of whether or not she was taking advantage. He was a private person.]

Thanks, Max. I owe you one.

[theroadwarrior]

[He dips his chin just slightly, expression softer than the usual grump.]

Mmm... you don't.

[She really doesn't need to owe him anything at all.

As long as she's alive, that's what matters. Survival.]

... But I'll keep it in mind f'I have someone I need to airlock.

[kill_switch]

[She huffs a small chuckle, and then starts to situate herself back on the bed and drape the blanket over her. She'd become more or less acclimated to the general temperature of the ships, but she sometimes did miss the enveloping heat. Cold had a way of getting into bones and joints.]

Just say who and they're gone. [Maybe a joke, but really if anyone messes with him she'd show them her teeth.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He snorts, amused, and nods before turning on his heel.

He'll give her some space, let her rest. There's plenty of scrap for him to mess with, in the meanwhile.]

[kill_switch]

[She sleeps well, for a while, but between the augment glitches and the concussion, her nightmares occur more frequently, and more vividly. They take many forms, but common themes are sandstorms without end, a near-empty tank, warparties closing in, reliving loss, experience new loss, being incapable of saving anyone either way.]

[This time she's in the rig, there's a storm all around and she gets the impression they're in the canyon but she can't see the rock walls - it's dangerous. She can hear the pop of gunfire in the distance, closing in. Max is driving. There are others there but she can't discern who. Angharad is there, but then she's falling away, reaching out, and Furiosa lunges from her seat and grasps at the air, screaming in her pain to this time save her, try to grab her and pull her back in --]

[In Max's room, she fidgets and moves, expression playing over the mix of concern and determination, and then throws herself from the bed, eyes suddenly wide but unseeing as she screams Angharad's name and graps whatever is the most solid thing in her way.]

[theroadwarrior]

[Max hears Furiosa distantly -- and has a hard time telling if it was really her or not. He decides to get up and investigate for the sake of it anyway, especially when Furiosa really could be having a difficult time out in his room again.

You just never know.

So he moves to enter the room, expression surly, brow furrowed, but concern playing there as always.]

Furiosa--?