My name is Max. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theroadwarrior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-11-28 01:27 pm
theroadwarrior) wrote in driftfleet2017-11-28 01:27 pm
Entry tags:
Voice/Action.
Who: Max and you.
Broadcast: Fleetwide Voice!
Action: Starstruck, Iskaulit.
When: Now-ish. Or some such.
(If you have a wildcard, lemme know, we can thread something here if you have a thing in mind!)
[Voice.]
... I need some... help. [Ugh, no wastelander actually likes to admit that.] Work fine with traditional machinery, oldtime stuff. No good at the advance junk other than pilotting, though. Want a leg that works well -- not just the usual prosthetic, something good, something sturdy enough for whatever happens next. Fighting, climbing, running -- need to be better n'before.
... Can pay for it, too.
[He huffs, rubbing his neck off the feed. His bangs are getting too long and unruly again.]
Just need it to get me standing on my own again.
[Action.]
[What a shitshow, these last few months have been. Max has, of course, avoided a lot of the last place thanks to being either sick or not quite of strength to move and help with the situation; frustrating, and certainly not without annoyed grunts or grumbles, but he's working on it. He's moved from wheelchair to a crutch, and so -- the Starstruck will find that he's pretty damn close to his usual self again.
Instead of hobbling on a bum knee, he's clacking around with one good leg, which is better than being dead as far as anyone's concerned, yeah? He's determined, in his usual hard-to-read silence, of not letting himself fall behind -- if he's going to dedicate his limited patience and loyalty to his crew (he's not saying the f-word, either), he's going to do it right. That means visiting the Iskaulit gym and making sure he doesn't go all weak in the knee or anything. It's the first time he's started actually leaving the Starstruck after the meteor incident, and it is admittedly a relief to not stare at the same walls daily now.
He also doesn't... sleep in the shuttle anymore. He sleeps in his room, with a bed. It's a miracle.
Ch-ch-changes, like the Bowie song on the record player'll sometimes belt out. He's still kind of stingy about the record player. But c'mon, you have to give him some slack. He's doing his best here. And speaking of record players...
The atroma sent him something, in a normal fed-ex styled envelope.
... It's a generic record.
For Christmas music.
...
Feel free to catch Max on his crutch, hobbling off toward the airlock.]
Broadcast: Fleetwide Voice!
Action: Starstruck, Iskaulit.
When: Now-ish. Or some such.
(If you have a wildcard, lemme know, we can thread something here if you have a thing in mind!)
[Voice.]
... I need some... help. [Ugh, no wastelander actually likes to admit that.] Work fine with traditional machinery, oldtime stuff. No good at the advance junk other than pilotting, though. Want a leg that works well -- not just the usual prosthetic, something good, something sturdy enough for whatever happens next. Fighting, climbing, running -- need to be better n'before.
... Can pay for it, too.
[He huffs, rubbing his neck off the feed. His bangs are getting too long and unruly again.]
Just need it to get me standing on my own again.
[Action.]
[What a shitshow, these last few months have been. Max has, of course, avoided a lot of the last place thanks to being either sick or not quite of strength to move and help with the situation; frustrating, and certainly not without annoyed grunts or grumbles, but he's working on it. He's moved from wheelchair to a crutch, and so -- the Starstruck will find that he's pretty damn close to his usual self again.
Instead of hobbling on a bum knee, he's clacking around with one good leg, which is better than being dead as far as anyone's concerned, yeah? He's determined, in his usual hard-to-read silence, of not letting himself fall behind -- if he's going to dedicate his limited patience and loyalty to his crew (he's not saying the f-word, either), he's going to do it right. That means visiting the Iskaulit gym and making sure he doesn't go all weak in the knee or anything. It's the first time he's started actually leaving the Starstruck after the meteor incident, and it is admittedly a relief to not stare at the same walls daily now.
He also doesn't... sleep in the shuttle anymore. He sleeps in his room, with a bed. It's a miracle.
Ch-ch-changes, like the Bowie song on the record player'll sometimes belt out. He's still kind of stingy about the record player. But c'mon, you have to give him some slack. He's doing his best here. And speaking of record players...
The atroma sent him something, in a normal fed-ex styled envelope.
... It's a generic record.
For Christmas music.
...
Feel free to catch Max on his crutch, hobbling off toward the airlock.]
Page 1 of 3