memepasta: (Default)
ᴀ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ([personal profile] memepasta) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2015-06-11 08:19 am

eagle eyed cherry lyrics

the last night.

dusk has fallen, and your nerves are on fire.

you are not looking forward to tomorrow, for whatever reason - perhaps you're in the ending stages of war and the final battle is imminent, perhaps you'll be leaving for an extended period of time, perhaps you're set to go into a risky surgery. whatever's going to happen, it could be the very last night you have, whether it's in this city, in this dimension, in this life. how are you going to spend it? will you say your goodbyes to your loved ones, spend time reminiscing, or just go about your everyday life and try not to think about it?

the choice is yours, but you'd better make it soon. you don't have much time left.

instructions
1. post with your character.
2. tag others.
3. spend your last night wisely.

madmanmax: (you sure?)

Re: Furiosa / Mad Max: Fury Road / Ota

[personal profile] madmanmax 2015-06-13 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
When Max stopped them out on the salt flats with his mumbled plan, it was only mid-to-late morning, and no more than noon when they reached where they'd abandoned the War Rig. With guzzoline siphoned out of all but one of the bikes, they'd retraced their steps but skirted the bog. Whatever chaos Max had caused, back there, Furiosa would never see. It had stopped the Bullet Farmer, and that was all that mattered.

Driving on, they were back in their own tracks, and due to meet up with Joe and whoever else was left some time the next day. For now, though, dark had fallen, the Wives were curled in an untidy heap in the back of the cab, Nux pushed to one side but comfortably half under Capable. The Vuvalini did not sleep, or if they did it was in shifts, making sure at least two were always awake and watching from their perches on top of the rocking vehicle.

Only she and Max were left awake, in the cab. "...You should sleep." The low mumble was an echo from the days before, when she had been driving, and he had gasped awake from a doze in the passenger seat. If he recognized the mirroring of that moment, his face gave no sign of it.
eumenis: (pensive)

[personal profile] eumenis 2015-06-13 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
The Vuvalini are wonderfully practical beings. For all her grief at their dwindled numbers and all her shock at the death of the Green Place, Furiosa can't regret having found them again. Their strength gives her strength, and she knows she will be needing it.

When the Fool speaks to her, she's distracted, gazing at the Valkyrie balanced on the upper level of the rig. Valkyrie's eyes are very good. Furiosa's used to be better, before too much sun and grit, but she can still aim a gun and shoot to kill.

"Hmmmh," she responds to the suggestion, quiet and noncommittal. And then her lips quirk faintly, because she recognizes the mirroring, whether he does or not.

A moment of silence later, she adds: "For a man that wants to survive so badly, you've taken up a cause with very long odds. Have you done this before?"
madmanmax: (uncertain)

[personal profile] madmanmax 2015-06-13 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
There's a sheepish little duck of his head, and that's more telling than any words he could have struggled to give her. In between just surviving, he's come across people like this before, helped people, and then moved on. The details are blurry, after a while, but this is not the first time he's fallen into other people's trouble, and tried to help pull them out of it.

"Can't trust memory." He looks a little sheepish and guilty still, though.
eumenis: (distraught)

[personal profile] eumenis 2015-06-13 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
"That sounded like a yes." She's been slumped against the door a little, and now she hitches herself up, stretching so that her shoulder makes a popping sound. "But it's not enough for you."

She wonders what he lost, and how long he's been searching for it. In his quiet moments, he looks not so much crazy as forlorn. Of course, in their world you don't ask what a person has lost. She can talk about what she lost, though, and after a moment's hesitation she murmurs: "I keep thinking about the Green Place. All that poisoned water. When I was a child, the trees had roots that stuck up out of the muck like stepstones. I practiced running on them."

"...I had forgotten about that until last night."
madmanmax: (whut?)

[personal profile] madmanmax 2015-06-13 01:42 pm (UTC)(link)
He doesn't answer right away, doesn't even take his eyes from the dusty track before them, but something in the cant of his head and the line of his body says he's definitely listening. Her memories are more pleasant to be an audience to, than his own would be. What he lost, he doesn't even try looking for, anymore, but the memory of it haunts his footsteps.

"...Sounds slippery." He's trying to picture it, that description clashing in his mind with the dark sour muck they slogged their way out of. What he saw was not a place somebody could miss.

"I remember trees, though."
eumenis: (pensive)

[personal profile] eumenis 2015-06-13 03:46 pm (UTC)(link)
"It was. That was the point, to learn to keep my footing." She's not looking at him or the road, at the moment, eyes fixed on the roof of the cab but misted over. She's looking at her own memories. "It was always slippery and sticky and treacherous. That's why we stayed so well; we knew where to step. Enemies would come in and fall or get stuck, and the Mothers could pick them off without even having to get close. One man, one shot."

Nothing wasted. Until the Citadel war parties came, overwhelmed them with sheer numbers and took what prisoners they could. Furiosa grimaces, pushing that thought back almost visibly in favor of something better.

"...My initiate mother told me I was supposed to learn to walk across the ground without leaving prints behind, or even bending the grass. She was teasing, but I tried."

Returning from the long-ago vision, her gaze flicks to the Fool again. "What kind of trees? Did you come from somewhere green?"
madmanmax: (I've seen some things...)

[personal profile] madmanmax 2015-06-14 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
Max continues to stare ahead, and she'll just have to hope he's still seeing the road, but there isn't a lot out there right now likely to present an obstacle and the vuvalini atop their perches are an ever-present extra set of eyes, now. He's quiet, squinting thoughtfully, and slow to answer but she should be used to that by now.

"There... were trees. Grass. A couple of days away..." He licks his lips, struggling with the words or the memory or both.

"...water. Endless. The sea..." they took the truck away from town and just drove, until they reached the sea; a vacation. Not that he had any real intention of going back, until...

Max gives a whole-body twitch that jerks even the steering wheel just a little, a swerve small enough to be blamed on a rock in the road, by everyone else. He shakes his head hard, and swallows. "I tried going back to it once, but it's dried up and gone foul." He makes a vague gesture over his shoulder, but whether he means the salt flats or something more vague is hard to say. With his certainty about what they'd find, and his careful maps, though, she may wonder. He's kept better track of a much bigger scope of land than most people.
eumenis: (pensive)

[personal profile] eumenis 2015-06-15 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
Furiosa watches him impassively, patient. Words seem hard for him, but she understands why. It's not the first time she's met someone who went feral, either alone on the road or after being passed from one chaotic gang to another as slave or soldier. Words can be difficult when you haven't had occasion to use them with anyone friendly for a long time.

She remembers.

But now he's offering memories, and even with his terse descriptors she can almost picture what he's talking about. Grass. Trees. The sea. Her mother talked about the sea once. So much water. It's hard to imagine there was ever so much water in the world.

When he twitches, she frowns and sits up a little more. "Easy. It's okay."

For an Imperator, she's surprisingly capable of speaking in calm, soothing tones.
madmanmax: (I've seen some things...)

[personal profile] madmanmax 2015-06-15 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
He ducks his head in a mild apology, but the memories that haunt him have made him mentally unreliable, and time alone has made him difficult with words, and that's just the way he is. Since taking up with their ragtag group he seems to have grown a little calmer, and finds his words a little easier, but it's unlikely he'll ever come back all the way. There is, for those who go feral alone, a certain point of no return.

"Better not to go looking for the past, I guess." He sighs, because he knows she's found that out the hard way. If he thought he could have spared her that, he would have, but the truth is they were all believing in the Green Place so hard that even he began to hope along with them. The route they're on now, he thinks, is better. They're going back to fix what's broken, or die trying, and either way that's a better course than the directionless running they set out on, after Hope failed. directionless running is a road he's been on as long as he can remember without falling into flashbacks, and it hasn't done him any good. If he can help them toward their redemption, that's something, even if he has no idea how to fix things for himself.
eumenis: (distraught)

[personal profile] eumenis 2015-06-15 07:05 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't think I actually expected to make it there," she says, surprising herself with this frank admission. "The odds of getting away were almost as long as the odds of surviving a return trip."

Not that she didn't plan well. She did. It took weeks of off-and-on negotiations with the gang at the mountain pass. She picked her timing and direction carefully. Maybe part of her expected her cargo to make it there without her.

Still, if she hadn't sought to return to the Green Place, she wouldn't know there was no Green Place left. She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter now."
madmanmax: (smirky)

[personal profile] madmanmax 2015-06-18 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
He glances over at her, briefly, but his own gaze seems to have returned to the here and now. "You did. Odds of what we're doing now can't be better." There's the flash of a little grin, brief and crazy, because he knows full well the odds are not good, but what he means is that they're not likely to get any better of a shot than this. If they fail, of course, there won't be a second chance.