the veil is thin . . .

[thespaceopera]

[ On the night of the 16th, the feeling of tension and horrid anticipation comes to a head. Everything stops when the sun goes down-- even the ever-present music in the hoppingest part of the city center. One by one, everyone turns their eyes to the skies. The young and old alike pour out of their houses, some in bare feet, and they point to the velvety blanket of stars.

It takes a second to find it, especially if one is unaccustomed to the starscape. But even a casual observer can see it.

A brightly-shining star, larger than the others, and growing larger.

An announcement cuts across all communication channels that encourages people to evacuate to the space station, but it’s clear that these are just people and they’ll need some help. Supplies, equipment, organization, there’s something for everyone to do.

Civilization is disrupted by a panicked stampede of people vying for limited seats aboard spacefaring craft. Within hours, there will be crushed glass, looting, and chaos.

The clock is ticking. Will you help? Or would you rather watch the dying gasps of a Singing Planet from a safe distance? ]

[OOC: Please see this post for plot details. Phase two has begun! Feel free to use this post as a reaction post, mingle, etc. or make your own!]

Comments

Max | OTA | Throughout the evac.

[theroadwarrior]

I. The jacket.

Max did not warn anyone about anything -- but it was not out of coldness than it was him sitting back and letting more capable people do their work. That's not him. He'd more than likely convince people to not do a damn thing, watching the madman speak, so he sits back and wrings his hands and wonders what will happen. When it finally hits the fan, he's not particularly shocked. What he is surprised by is how quickly he finds himself in the thick of rescue efforts.

He's never much cared to protect others, not like this. Not a group he knows little about. Now, Peggy, his crew, Furiosa and the wives? Even others on the fleet? He'd throw out his own personal needs and get right to work on their behalf, for their behalf. Others don't matter, not when it comes to survival, but -- but. Here he is, helping transport supplies and working on standby to make sure the equipment is overheating or causing any issue. Don't mind him, coming to help move a particularly heavy item, especially if someone looks like they're struggling a bit.

There's a kid, a native, who won't stop shivering from the fear. She always seems to be in his peripheral. She reminds him a lot of Cheedo in that timid and fearful way. He keeps seeing her in the corner of his eye as he goes, and from the looks of her hesitation she's deathly afraid to fly.

"Hey," he finally tells her, turning away from his current job. "Gotta get on board."

"I'm -- I'm scared," she says, and it's obvious, but the way she says it makes it worse.

He hates caring, and he hates that people have made him care again. Or did he always? It's not like the fleet was the first to punch the humanity back into him. It's just... He doesn't want to be there when it all falls apart. He doesn't want to help yet another person who goes under the wheels. Despite that very thought, he removes his jacket and pulls it a bit roughly around her quaking shoulders. "Gonna -- uh,be fine," he says quietly, and then, even more soft around the edges, he continues, "As long as you're alive, you're gonna be fine. But you got to get a hold of yourself and get in there."

...

"And give that back later," he says, pointing to the jacket.

Before she goes, he gives a ruffling to her hair. The fact that his hand does it without him thinking is... something.

II. Need a ride?

As others go out to warn people, to check the towns, and to otherwise transport whoever needs to be transported, they'll find that Max lands beside them with his usual shuttle; it's at full power and has been taken care of for just these sorts of sudden occasions, after all. Popping the door open, he leans out, looking as grim and serious as he always does. Max Rockatansky doesn't need a planet's inevitable demise to look like a sour lemon. Despite that, he's calm and more than ready to do the dirty work.

"You need a ride somewhere?"

III. Near the end.

Max looks down into a throng of abandoned homes, taking a rest. His leg hurts terribly, and he rubs the scarred tissue there with a look that almost seems sympathetic; not a soul's left down there now, and a hot gust of wind whips at a fortune teller's table; tarot-like cards go blowing across the small walkways. There's an abandoned sort of kid's toy, like those horse heads you ride when you play cowboys. The shadows are sharp and long, ominous.

It reminds him of times before everything fell, at home.

That moment at the very, very beginning, when all hope was completely lost for rebuilding.

Just like his world, he's about to watch an apocalypse, huh?

This time, it's not their faults, at least.

He only hopes these people don't devolve into scavengers like him.