thisavrou_log | (no subject)

Who: Max Mayfield + You??
When: Sunday
Where: Here there and everywhere.
What: Arriving at the station and trying to figure out what's going on.
Warnings: Mentions of fighting and domestic violence. Spoilers for most of season two of Stranger Things!

[Her skateboard is clutched tightly in her arms as she makes her way down the various halls of the station. She has approximately 110 million questions burning in her mind, but she also doesn't know who to corner and demand answers from. As far as she understood, literally everyone got here the same way, which means no one's here because they chose to be.

She's still shaken up from the way Billy had charged into the Byers' house, first grabbing Lucas and then proceeding to beat the hell out of Steve as she'd stood by, paralyzed with fear. Way to go, Max, she thinks. It isn't the first time she's seen Billy in a rage like that, and it's never any less terrifying. He's so full of hate, of anger.

Her mind alternates between Hawkins and this new, foreign place as she wanders somewhat aimlessly, taking in the new scenery and thinking to herself that she's going to have to draw a map to figure out where everything is.

Because apparently there's no way back, and she's not sure how she feels about that.]

[Open to Roommates]

[In her wandering, she actually manages to find an empty room. With a bed. She sets her skateboard down carefully and then falls back onto it, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. She's seconds away from passing out when she hears a weird noise. Opening one eye she turns her head in the direction the noise had come from. Definitely the wall.

Max sits up a little, eyebrows furrowing until she sees something bigger than a mouse scurry across the floor. Not a rat - it's - actually she's not sure what it is, but she quickly gets out of bed anyway. She hears another noise, this time from the adjoining common room, and she tenses, then makes her way out of the room, freezing when she sees another person standing there, looking back at her.]

Uh, hey.

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...it is immaterial.

[Pull yourself together Chara, ha ha. What are you even doing? You gonna spill your guts onto some stranger? Who are you, Frisk?]

People come and go here. Familiarizing yourself with others does not always yield, when they might dissipate at any moment.

[She doesn't think that's really true, because that's now it works, but she's not going to contradict Chara over it, either.]

So people come and go here a lot.

[Don't get attached to anyone, then. As if life hasn't taught her that already, back home.]

Some people stay for weeks. Others for years. If there is a precise pattern to this traffic, I cannot say.

[Sometimes they share worlds. More likely, they don't. There are simply crossfades and odd similarities interleaving between dimensions, but nothing concrete.]

[She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.]

How long have you been here?

Well over a year, by my count. But then, linear time is a difficult thing to parse.

[Particularly when you've died a considerable amount of times. That tends to heck up your understanding of time's progression, slightly.]

[Jesus. A year. She leans against the wall, troubled. Not that she's going to miss a many from home, but...there's a handful she's going to miss.]

Is anyone from your home here? Or just you?

[Ha ha.]

[They were braced for this, they should think. They would like to think. Braced for it, but it still comes like punch to the stomach, wreathed in iron and clad in flames. It crooks up the corners of their lips, stretches their mouth into a grotesque parody of a genuine smile.]

Me. And one other.

Not very many, truth be told.

[Anymore.]

[Max watches Chara closely and comes to the conclusion that there's a lot more to this than she'd anticipated when she'd asked the question. So she decides to go for a subject change, looking at the plants.]

Do you take care of them? [She motions to them.]

[It might be a trick of the light, but there may also be a subtle softening to the other child's features when they turn to regard the flowers instead.]

[To whatever extent is possible, it seems Max has made the wisest possible conversational decision.]

...yes.

I am not their sole caretaker, but I do step in, from time to time.

They're nice.

[She smiles faintly, tucking some hair behind her ear.]

My mom used to garden when I was younger.

Did she?

[They kneel once more, digging fingertips into the loose soil to extricate a tangle of roots, picking them gently free. There are an awful lot of weeds here. If allowed to flourish unchecked, they would doubtless choke out all the flowers worth keeping.]

The flora here is somewhat atypical, compared to what you may be used to, but I suppose they're charming in their own way.

Yeah.

[She watches Chara for a long moment, considering that. She's not sure there's much of anything normal here. At least to her. Things like robots and superheroes and all of it -- it's pretty foreign. There's Eleven, who, by Max's definition, is a superhero in her own right, but it's not like it's a common thing back home.]

I'm gonna try and find a place to crash, but...thank you for the weapon, and the help. I'll catch you around?

Should you fail to locate a place in time, ask for directions to Sadcat Manor.

[That's the least they can do, besides the weapon, is it not?]

It's a rather large complex, and we've the room to spare. [Now that they're two short, that is.]

Okay.

Thanks, Chara.

[She smiles faintly and then turns to head away.]