[open] you've got to stop lying still because this is no kind of life

[motherofnemesis]

Date & Time: May 21st-31st
Location: group housing, the memorial set up in the garden, the rooftops at night, anywhere else you would like
Characters: Max & ANYONE
Summary: Well that sucked, raise your hand if you agree and just want to chill out.
Warnings: references to past violence

o1. home. 21st.

[ She lingers down in the lobby of the housing for a while, too unsettled to willingly put herself in the same room with people she really doesn't want to mess up or if Tony's just gotten back with the relief that will be associated with that. So for a while she simply paces in the lobby, back and forth, but eventually she has to admit that her clothes are still bloody and she could really, really use a very hot shower and about 20 hours of sleep, and now before her head ceases to feel like it's filled with white noise and decides to actually react to everything that just happened and how many people died around her.

So she finishes up pacing, slings her coat over her shoulder and heads back up to the room. ]

o2. garden memorial.

[ In the moments over the next week that she vanishes, she can sometimes be found in the memorial Gwen has been working on setting up and the nearby garden. Weeding is easy, repetitive, and she's got enough to handle in her head with the increase in - charge she's come to recognize as the aftermath of a mission.

If sometimes she simply sits with her arms around her legs and forehead resting on her knees, tired and sore and with her own people to remember, well. There's rarely others around, after all. It's fine. ]

o3. nighttime rooftops.

[ She hasn't done this sort of work in a while, and the crime levels in Exsilium really aren't that high. Frankly it's a little ridiculous that she keeps roaming the streets at night in the vain hope of finding some sort of situation she can fix, especially since she can't even be bothered to wear some sort of costume. She just would really like to fix things, a little, instead of just maintain a sort of terrible average.

Sometimes she really does miss this. ]

o4. anywhere.

[ There's a lot of wandering, going on. Sometimes she's in the training room, though her time there is short and she's careful to stay in corners and out of the main lines of sight since Kara and Lee clearly know where this is. She spends a fair amount of time in Tony's workshop, building new and improved ways to damage the United Earth soldiers because she needs to. And sometimes she's just moving, restless and uncertain of what she's doing but knowing that she can't be still. ]

[ ooc: permissions are here for empathy things, which could be a good idea since it's currently in the process of leveling up! there's a strong chance of tags becoming sporadic in the next few weeks again, but i will backtag everything forever. ]

Comments

[motherofnemesis]

[ Lucky sod. Except for that expression on his face, which she's not fond of. For the first time in a long while she actually wishes she had her empathy, could test how he is and maybe help.

But that's not an option right now. ] Soup it is then. I've got chicken soup and beef stew. You doing okay?

[alittlesweptup]

Oh yeah, just cherry. [He sidesteps through the door into the apartment, shoulders hunched.] Either sounds good.

[He pauses, feels bulky and out of place in the flat. Not that it was any better in the hall either. Maybe the problem's his skin.] You look like shit.

[motherofnemesis]

[ She turns on the stove, stretches and turns back to look at him, considering. ] Thanks. You're looking great yourself.

[ Grabbing her coat off the chair and heading towards her bedroom with a gesture towards the couch. ] Gimme a minute to change. Grab some water if you want it. Or a drink, there's vodka on the counter.

[alittlesweptup]

Sure, thanks. [Which is the definition of going through the motions. He watches her go then turns on his heel and sidles into the kitchen. The offer of the vodka is taken without thought - he could use a drink -, though it takes him a bit of rummaging to find a glass. Instead he settled for a coffee mug and sloshes two fingers into the cup. After a pause, he tips a dash more in before screwing the top back onto the bottle.]

[motherofnemesis]

[ She pulls on sweats and wanders back out. The shower can wait for later, it seems, but at least her clothes no longer make it obvious precisely how much she got beat to hell and back. ] No need to put the lid back on. [ She may have chosen not to drink quite as extensively as she had following the panic of the spaceship's crash, but she thinks a little bit of a drink wouldn't go amiss right now. And it's not like whether or not she can regulate her empathy matters right now. She's screwed on that no matter what way she goes. ] Any particular reason you're over?

[alittlesweptup]

[He pauses, fixing her with a sidelong glance. It's just enough to snap him briefly out of whatever funk he's currently riding and after a moment he takes down a second coffee mug, pops the bottle back open and pours her a few sloshes as well. He leaves the cap off after; seems hasty to do anything but.]

Not at all. [He takes a swig from his cup, lip curling a bit. Whoever said you can't taste vodka was a lunatic or maybe it's just this particular bottle.] Well, not really. Long day.

[motherofnemesis]

[ For someone who doesn't drink, she can certainly down vodka like a pro, even if she has a similar lip curl of disgust afterwards, putting her coffee cup back down to stir the soup. ]

Really fucking long. I hope you don't think I'm the comforting sort. [ It's a joke, mostly, even if she guesses making someone soup and giving them alcohol can sort of count as comforting. Only the barest. ] You get your leg fixed?

[alittlesweptup]

God I hope you don't think I'm that stupid. [No, he's pretty sure if he had a list of people as designated shoulders to cry on - you know, if he did that sort of nancy ass thing - that Max would be awfully close to the bottom. As for the rest--

He hikes up his pant leg to show the pristine patch of skin. No bandages, no marks - hell, even the hair seems to be in pretty good shape considering a few hours ago he'd been on the far side of 'well done'.] I guess they had an older model on file.

[motherofnemesis]

Not particularly, but you never know. [ She's spent a long time cultivating an air of 'don't touch' and some people still walk over that enough to be - friends? - with her. She hopes she's managed to mostly suppress the field that always made people want to tell her everything, but it's hard to tell.

A glance behind her to verify that it's fixed and she nods, pleased but too tired to really denote it by anything but that. ] Then why are you here? [ Because there has to be a reason, right, if she's not a comforting person why is he here? ]

[alittlesweptup]

[Which is about as blunt as she can make it, isn't it? So much that he fumbles a moment with his glass for a moment before downing what's left. Charlie pulls the bottle back, tipping another finger into the bottom.]

Dying's a bit of an odd thing, isn't it? [He sets the bottle back on the counter, hurrying to add:] I'm not expecting any shoulder patting or anything of the like. It's just-- [He swirls the glass about, mouth thinning briefly.] --shit awful waking up after and knowing.

[motherofnemesis]

[ She holds her hand out for the bottle once he's finished, calculating in her head what she needs to feel somewhat human again versus what will be too much and concluding that she needs another drink. ]

Didn't know you'd died. [ She looks tired when she glances over at him, older than she should. ] The human brain isn't meant to handle coming back from dying. Sorry.

[alittlesweptup]

[And there's why he's here instead of somewhere else. Her sympathy is dry and straight forward. Couple that with a bit of surprise vodka-- he like to think moping isn't high on his to-do list.

Charlie shrugs. Knocks back the contents of his glass.] Oh well.

[motherofnemesis]

[ She doesn't have a tendency to beat around the bush, most of the time. Particularly not when she's tired and sore, and so is he, and it seems pointless. ]

Got any plans?

[alittlesweptup]

God no. [Because her reality check is about as close to grounded as he's been; making plans would require him to have been anything but vaguely untethered, anything but feeling completely out of sorts.

Though it occurs to him that she's probably run ragged - Christ knows she looks it. Charlie looks to her, mouth pursed slightly and empty glass in his hand.] D'you?

[motherofnemesis]

[ A snort of amused agreement, because yeah, that she totally understands.

A not terribly communicative shrug at his question, and she sits down on the couch and tilts her head back, closes her eyes for a moment. ] Not a one. I thought maybe I'd just drink.

[alittlesweptup]

[A pause, and then he catches the bottle and drags it from the counter. Charlie lumbers over to the couch, tips a little extra into her glass and then sets himself down without bothering to ask permission.]

See, now that sounds bloody near exactly right to me.

[motherofnemesis]

[ Permission totally not needed, and she holds out her glass for the little extra, sits up just enough to swallow down more than is strictly a good idea. ]

Glad to hear it. [ A pause, and then in warning. ] I'm not always a pleasant drunk.

[alittlesweptup]

[He makes a low scoffing noise, pouring another shot into his glass before setting the bottle on the floor near his foot. He makes a mental note not to kick it over. Throws her a grin and raises his glass in a mock toast.] I think I'll manage, Maxine.

[motherofnemesis]

Maxine? Really? [ Shaking her head a little bit in half amusement half resignation. She should never have informed him that was her full name, really. Though there's no way for him to understand what she's really getting at here, the possibility for lack of control of her empathy with drinking. There's a reason she doesn't generally. She'll just have to work a little harder at ensuring she doesn't do anything like that. ] Bully for you, then.