driftfleet | Just Keeping Swimming

[Aw hell. She knew she was generally better at dealing with most things than he was, and if she was having a hard time it was bad news for him to start. So not hearing anything in return sends her into additional panic.]

[She ventures into the bay and stares at the flippers. This was not going to be pleasant.]

You had better fucking grateful, Max.

[So yeah, Max. A day and change after his silence Furiosa is showing up in the Starstruck cargo bay, pissed as a wet cat as just as soaked. There was no guarantee Max would be here, but it was the first place she thought of on her panic. She's tossing aside the flippers as she calls out through the bay, making for his shuttle.]

Max! Fool! You goddamn better be here!

Edited 2017-03-08 04:10 (UTC)

[The wet and grumpy cat isn't met with Max — or rather, not the correct old mangy dog. Rock the old mutt is laying outside of the shuttle with his head on his arm, patiently safeguarding the man inside. His head perks up, and he gives Furiosa his attention, tail not quite wagging; she's clearly troubled, and even a dog can tell now's not the time for it.

He stands up, walks in a circle, and paws at the shuttle door.

Just — to let her know where Max is.

Nearby on his work desk, his communication device sits, untouched. Everything seems untouched.]

[She watches Rock, stalking up as he indicates the door, barely noting the untouched workstation and lonely comms device in her mania. The door, however, is locked. After a couple concerted attempts to yank it open, she growls in frustration (and no small amount of concern) and starts banging her prosthetic against it, yelling at the top of her lungs.]

FOOL! Open the door before I pry it off!

[She's yelling because she cares.]

[And yeah still wet cat mode.]

[The BANG BANG BANG and the yell concludes with an unsettling silence.

For a moment, it almost seems the shuttle is unoccupied.

Then, muffled, just on the other side of the metal door — a sandpapered rough voice, like one that has been put through a stressful sort of ringer:]

Leave me alone.

Just — want it to be quiet.

[It hasn't been quiet for a while now.

The cargo bay is eerily quiet, though.]

I swam here. Open the door, let me in, and I promise I will shut up. But I am wet and cold because you couldn't be bothered to check in.

[The last few words are punctuated with slams of her prosthetic fist against the door, and the sound of desperation is clear in her voice; you're not the only one having a hard time Max.]

[Another long pause.

A very unsure pause, because he's trying to work through... something.]

... Furiosa?

[Low and confused.]

What're you... You're not supposed to be with them.

[You're not dead. You can't be one of the ghosts assaulting his senses.

Not possible.]

Are you really there?

With them? With who? The crew? I'm not going back out there. Just let me in.

[A pause, a look around, she grabs a crowbar and starts trying to wedge it under the door.]

I'm not going back.

[The door hisses, pops. He'd reached up with all the hesitance in the world to the control panel, hitting the button without looking. He's sitting wedged between the two seats inside, on the floor, curled small and defensive. He looks disheveled — well, even for him, his eyes hollowed and exhausted, the lines of his face somehow deeper, like he hasn't slept at all since they've arrived.

He stares at her for a long moment, that crowbar in her hands.

Rumbles lowly:]

... Not a ghost?

[She stands there, clothes dripping as she glares down at him. She's mad, but seeing him in that state lessens the edge. She chucks the crowbar and stalks in.]

Not a ghost.

[Now that she's in she turns to go looking for dry clothes. You've got some around here somewhere, right Max? Since this is where you technically live? She disappears long enough to ferret out his wardrobe and returns, settling down on the ground and fitting herself between the seat and the console. True to her word she doesn't make a sound, but fits herself near enough to him to console her own madness.]

[He closes his eyes when she sits down beside him.

Closes his eyes and falls silent, face downcast and expression empty — blank, like he's drifted off to another world. But the faintest touch of her along one side of him makes him slowly come back to himself, makes him remember just what's going on, and he turns just slightly to see her in his peripheral.

Real, not a ghost.]

... Not safe out there. Better to stay here.

[He's off, today. Real off. It'll get better again, eventually.

Just... not right now. Hard to focus.]

I'm not going back out. [She's in a different reality than he is - a closer to real reality, perhaps, but the danger still feels far too immediate to her; she hadn't drown on her way over, no, whatever magics were at work didn't allow it to happen. But that didn't erase the experience or how overwhelming it was. It felt stifling to be completely and utterly surrounded by water without the skill or knowledge of how to navigate through it. It was through sheer luck and tenacity - driven by fear and concern - that she made it any distance at all, let alone from one shuttle to another.]

[She leans a little more heavily on Max, using that solid presence to ground her and distract her from the lingering panic. She's used to suffering in silence, alone, but she can appreciate having someone here that she trusted with her mania. Her jaw is clenched, eyes a little too focused on nothing as she tries to breathe steadily to pull herself back.]

Don't have to.

[Max's face is molted with some bruising, his nostril dark red; he's clearly had a fight of some kind a day or two ago, around the time they'd showed up to the planet. But he doesn't particularly pay it any mind; he's glad Steve had knocked him out, gave him time to... try and settle down.

He doesn't speak. Just lets her rest against him while he loses himself as well.

It's easy to crawl back into that defensive shell, anyway.]

[The silence is good, the contact is good. Eventually her tension evens out and she takes a little clearer look at her companion.]

What happened to you?

Stars and stripes.

[So unhelpful. He blinks, glances over at her wearily.]

I... panicked.

Decontamination room. Needed to be... put down, for a while.

[Stars and stripes she doesn't get; there's a small frown as she tries to thinka bout what he might mean, but he continues and answers the important question so she doesn't press further.]

It wasn't pleasant. [She gives him a little rock with her shoulder,] That why you didn't message me back?

[He blinks with fluttering uncertainty.]

Message?

[... Yeah, he's definitely been out of it.

The network hasn't even been a thought.]

[She looks at him, then remembers seeing his comm out in the hanger bay. She nods with the realization that's probably why he didn't see it at all, let alone respond.]

Just checking in. Didn't hear back, knew something was up.

[And then peaked her own panic by swimming out to see him (if swimming is what you can call it). At least it showed that her concern for him beat out her own anxieties.]

... I, umm, I didn't...

[Think, or realize, that it'd be an issue. He ducks his chin, more than a little apologetic, even if he doesn't apologize; she knows him well enough.]

Aaah...

I forget m'not by myself here, sometimes.

[She leans over to rock against him with her shoulder.]

That's why I checked in. Thought you might need reminding.

[His lips twitch, and he relaxes his shoulder back.]

... You really swam, huh.

[She winces, recalling the experience and how awkward and somewhat terrifying it was.]

Swam might be too strong a word for what I did, but yes, I went through the water to get here.

... Didn't have to do that.

[Maybe that sounds a little ungrateful; it's not that he is.]

Mmmm. Don't want to make you uncomfortable because of me.

Sounds like a nightmare.

It would have been worse not knowing.

[She can see now that he had been in no condition to remember the comm or to write back, and she couldn't imagine sitting around waiting for him to reply. However bad the experience swimming over had been, it was the better option.]

[Not knowing would have been the nightmare.]

[He glances at her, quieting.

It's nice, to hear. He doesn't understand it, not from her or from anyone here really, that concern for his well-being, knowing he's alright, wanting to make sure he's... okay. He's starting to come around to the idea that he can't stop people from feeling like that, though. And he knows it himself, feels the same for them. Knowing is better. He would have gone mad all over again if she had fallen out of contact; she's done it once before, during the raids.

He looks ahead, fidgeting with his paracord bracelet.]

... Thanks.

Don't mention it.

[She lets them lapse into silence, lets Max fiddle with his bracelet, but now that the dust has settled and the panic subsided and they're safe, she crawls out from their cubby and stretches.]

You want anything to eat?

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theroadwarrior - 2017-04-04 08:12 (UTC) - Expand

Just Keeping Swimming | March Planet Mingle

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