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[zoomingupthathill]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, MADMAX. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 005.08.019.85 *** MADMAX has joined 005.08.019.85 <MADMAX> do your thing or whatever <MADMAX> don't be dumb

Main: MADMAX
Anon: houndsof

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early november

[digiorno]

[This? This has sucked.]

[There is absolutely no debate that October was terrible. No one had a good time. Even Fourth followers — especially Fourth followers — were struggling by the end. But those who chose a side at least had the luxury of living indoors. Giorno did not.]

[Not that he regrets his choice. The other options were unquestionably worse. But he was running on fumes all month, catching a few hours of sleep a night and a catnap or two during the day between filming and everything else. By the end, his shocks were so bad that he was jerked awake in the middle of the night when he did manage to sleep. All of that doesn't even begin to account for the number that place did on his psyche. When they get back to Bavan, it's all he can do to make it home before he falls asleep.]

[Once he does, he sleeps for days. Very literally. He only gets up from bed to go to the bathroom, eat something too vegetarian to be properly filling, and ultimately go outside in the warmth of the day to root himself in the garden. As much as he loves the big stupid bed he curls up in most nights, there's something uniquely restorative about letting his body collapse into vines and purple flowers, dozing in sun so warm he can practically feel himself healing.]

[And then, of course, things need to get done. The world doesn't stop just because Felfri happened, and he takes a certain amount of vicious satisfaction in digging both hands into his routine again. Excitingly, none of his businesses have been looted, his home is perfectly intact, and the (admittedly frazzled) Persephone staff have held down the fort admirably. They said no one even tried anything, which Giorno is privately smug about.]

[It's slightly a relief to see everyone back to normal, something that surprises him less after the conversation with Fugo on the network but is still unpleasant to think about, and mostly a relief to see everyone back to their bodies, period. The first time he saw Steve without those stupid enhancements, he was helpless with tears. And then—]

[And then, after all that, there are new arrivals.]

[He's shocked, although maybe he shouldn't be, when Steve brings up the idea of Max staying at the palazzo. There's no hesitation, of course. He understands why Steve still stays at the 38-8, but he doesn't trust it, not anymore, and — well, he does trust Steve. If Steve thinks it's a good idea, then it is.]

[Which is how it comes to be that Max makes her way up from the road to the entirely unnecessary double staircase that leads into what is, frankly, a ridiculously extravagant building that doesn't look like a house at all. There's a couch under the overhang at the top of the stairs; it, too, is extravagant, white with gold embroidery. Giorno lies there while he waits, feet up on the arm, head flat on the cushion, reading a book about animals and plants of the peninsula around a large black Shape that's settled on his chest, purring.]

[One has to hope that Steve warned her. He's just like this, at all times. Nothing to be done about it.]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Has Max been warned? That's a good question. It's maybe an equally important question on if Giorno has also been warned, because Max Mayfield is also like this, at all times.

She trudges up the road, not favoring either leg and going a lot slower than she'd like, hoverboard shoved under one arm. It's not like Max can ride it, since it became a regular piece of shit no-hoverboard since crossing through the portal, but something about it comforts her. The familiarity of it, in a place where there's about zero familiarity except for the handful of people she knows. Everything's changing, all over again... And now without those enhancements, she's back to the slow life. Back to another harsh reality making it harder and harder to delude herself with the lie that Vecna left no lasting damage.

At least she doesn't need to squint. She's freaking halfway down the road when she sees the mansion Steve directed her to, unable to actually escort her because he has to do something at the business he owns. That's weird. Ain't gonna get used to that. Anyway, the size of this place. It has her limping a little slower, as she takes in all of the...everything of it. No one had houses this size in Hawkins. No one did in San Diego, either—at least not in her neighborhood. Even when she was young and her parents still lived together, it's not like their jobs paid too much, a bank teller and a...whatever-the-fuck you'd call her father. None of her boyfriends ever raised the spending limit, and neither did marrying Neil. Neither did Neil taking off. So this? The huge mansion, this?

This is awe-inspiring, and also a little infuriating.

How the fuck does this guy who was living on the streets in the other world have a mansion?

Using the former hoverboard as a bit of support to lean against, she hobbles up the steps, musing that it was probably good Steve didn't see this. Max hates the way the others look at her, like she's about to crack into pieces. She hates the way it makes her worry that maybe she will.

No need to worry about that right now, not as she comes across Giorno, this guy, just lounging. Her lip curls a little, and the moment she's at the top of the stairs and leaning against the stone railing, she crosses her arms, because it makes her feel a little more guarded. ]

So what d'you call this, the foyer? [ The French pronunciation, a little exaggerated. ] Can those be outside, or is there another word for 'em?

<KrisKringle>

[getmeoutofthedraft]

Ho ho ho! Your Secret Santa giftee is LUSAMINE, who I'm mostly sure is also "Aether" on the network. If not, sue me, I guess.

Buy or make Lusamine a gift by December 26, or Santa will come down your chimney and box your ears.

If you need more information, contact me C/O Hawkeye Pierce at Crowe Clinic, and I'll delegate him to tell you to do your own research.

<MADMAX>

[zoomingupthathill]

i thought santa was supposed to be kind and helpful
can’t even give a basic description?? come on man wheres your christmas spirit

December 24th

[sciencesquid]

[A moderately-sized box arrives on December 24th, addressed to Max Mayfield! It's wrapped in golden paper with white snowflakes, the folds pretty immaculate and symmetrical. Someone has years of experience with wrapping gifts. Inside the box, she'll find a polaroid camera, painted red with orange. There's one pack of film included, along with a letter.]

Dear Max,

Happy Nattensfest, and whatever other holidays you might celebrate in December. As your secret Santa, I had a bit of trouble finding out more about what you might like, so I hope I guessed correctly. If not, feel free to get in touch, and I'll exchange it for something else. My network channel number is 015.03.020.15

And if you're worried about how this gift compares to the spending limit, there's no need. I bought this second-hand and repaired it myself, paint job included. Believe it or not, the film was the most expensive part of it.

Kind regards,
Dr. Otto Octavius.

<MADMAX> at long last...a reply!!

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Was this supposed to be signed? Since Max's is...complicated, she's not doing that for it, but- is that how Secret Santa works? She hasn't really done a lot. Regardless, she's sort of floored, not just at the effort put into this, but at the name he signed. She mouths it to herself. Isn't that one of the villains in a comic she used to read?

That's gonna get weird if that starts happening. ]

this is max
thanks for the present
no need to return it just wanted to say that

[ She's floored, still. This seems more the kind of gift that one of the others would be into, but... Max actually likes it. Maybe because she's surprised at how much time it could've taken. For a stranger? It's pretty generous. ]

Happy Nattensfest!

[findingtruth]

[Nancy drops a gift off for Max on the morning of December 25th! Attached is a green and white card that reads:

Happy Nattensfest, Max! Don't ever hesitate to call me if you need something. I'm always here for you.
Warmest wishes,
Nancy
P.S. If the gift isn't your style, let me know, and I can exchange it.

Max will find a blue leather bracelet with copper charms, and a voucher for a clothing store that caters to monsters.]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ ...! Max is pleased to receive a gift from Nancy. She doesn't really wear jewelry, but this doesn't feel quite like it. At the very least, she knows how hard it must be to shop here. And she's just happy to be thought of, honestly, in a place so far from home.

Max has something for Nancy too, a small collection of handcarved forest animal figurines, made completely out of wood. A fox, a raccoon, a rabbit, a deer, and so on. Just a little something from the night market. ]

Happy (backdated) New Year

[familyproblem]

[Having no fucking clue where Max lives and not wanting to ask (to ruin the surprise) or try to guess (sense that she might call this creepy behavior), Gladion sends this via the Lighthouse's little drop-off-and-someone-calls-you thing.

Attached note:]

Happy New Year and thanks for help with L.
No sweat if you need to exchange it, gift receipt inside.
- G

[Inside the package...

It's a swiss-army-knife-style multitool. Not an outrageously expensive tier of quality, but compact, sturdy, and reliably constructed.]

<MADMAX>

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Ultimately, going with the Lighthouse drop off works best. Max experiences a few moments of distinct what, because nearly all the people she knows here know where she lives—or, like, live with her. However, once she reads the note it's pretty easy to tell who it came from...even if he doesn't exactly sign his name.

She rolls her eyes...but opens her laptop all the same. ]

hey
i got your gift
you couldve signed your name you know

Post-Event | Feb 21st

[polarvoid]

[After a week of time endlessly looping, it's finally over. Basil...has only recently gotten up to speed with the fact that he'd been reliving the same day unknowingly over and over, and honestly? He really does not want to think about it too hard. He's already struggling with having lost a week of his memories when he was a Shade. This is a bit different, but also still the equivalent of losing another full week in the sense of time, and he hates it. Is this just going to keep...happening? For Basil, it's like he's jumped straight from the 14th to the 21st.

Well, for now, there's nothing they can do about it. Not only does Basil have a first-hand account from the others who did remember each loop, he's come to to the fact that he's undergone a swath of continued changes as time caught up with him. It's not much, just a week's worth, but it's noticable. He has nubby white horns now that protrude visibly through blonde hair, with flower buds growing on their white tips. His tail, meanwhile, has grown a foot, as well as starting to acquire little white spikes that Basil has been mentally comparing to cactus. And then of course the black, leathery skin, which has spread nearly to his shoulders and hips now.

It's evening now, and Basil and Max are sitting outside on the steps up into the house. Basil had actually met Max at the bus stop so he could walk back home with her, but instead of going straight in they'd chosen to stay here and watch the sunset for a bit. Basil doesn't mention it, but he's...been trying to go outside more when he can, even if he doesn't want to go all the way into Bavan most of the time. Knowing that soon he won't be able to...

As they sit, he toys with a little crochet sunflower he has pinned to the front of his coat with his claws, trying to get used to the way his claws have replaced his fingertips.]

I really hope this doesn't keep happening every month...

[It's hard to say if he means the time-loop specifically, or just...THINGS happening.]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Going through her small changes repeatedly, day by day, was awful. She could never settle, and it made her go...a little bit crazy. Now that all's said and done, the only visible differences to her are the matted fur covering the top half of her bony tail and her two upper canines that poke out of her mouth, depending on how she holds it. She kept wishing it would just be over with. It would stick and stay. But... At least she was aware of it. Just waking up with your body altered, not even feeling it...

It must've been so disorienting.

Max chews on some jerky as she peers out just above the setting sun. She's noticed looking at bright lights has started to hurt her eyes. They're already sensitive, and now that the fog's over, they're more so. She noticed when she got up for school—handing in her homework, half-assed but not incorrect—and throughout the day, and she's noticing now. Max wonders if she'll have to switch to night classes, and if Will would mind doing the same. She doesn't want to go to school if it's not with someone she knows. ]

I hate to be the bearer of bad news...but it's gonna. Not necessarily [ a wave of her hand, the other in her lap, idly curling and uncurling like a raptor's claws, ] you know, time repeating, but... Happened in November, sort of in December, and...you saw last month.

[ She sighs. ]

I'm just glad you're gonna remember this conversation. It was exhausting going through the motions over and over again.

<eudaemonikos> after transformation thread

[eudaimonikos]

[After Max went on her way, work picked up as it always does, and Michael was busy for a couple of hours. It doesn't feel particularly great...he sort of wonders if he should have just taken off sick for an hour or so. But Max had insisted she'd be fine, and she'd called someone to pick her up - it's not like he just ditched her or anything!

Still, several hours later when his shift ends, Michael does track down her channel and send a text:]

Hey, it's Michael.
You make it home okay?

<MADMAX>

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Max isn't yet in the habit of checking her laptop. It's not like she knows many people here, anyway. The only ones she doesn't live with aren't exactly used to the laptops either. Still, at some point, when she's back at the palazzo and has shooed off Steve, not wanting to break the fuck down in front of him as it's really setting in that her heart isn't beating and she doesn't need to breathe and she's cold to the touch—

Well. The network is inane and stupid. She needs something inane and stupid. Imagine her surprise when she discovers she has a message. ]

hi yeah
safe and sound

[ This is...surreal. Because her brain, to protect her, is processing it like he saw her wipeout on a trick or something—and, because no adult has ever followed up with her before like this. Not even the nicest ones. ]

Mid April, during Truth Event

[figlia_morbida]

[There's been raining since the start of the month.

People say they can hear music, and for once, Trish is relieved she can't hear any at all, like her heart's shut out music that isn't hers after what transpired just a month before. It would be a lie to say she feels calm, however.

Nothing banishes the weird tension that's settled over the peninsula with the widespread attack on their senses. Indeed, even the sound of rain becomes tiresome to her ears when it never slows. The cloud cover, as always, robs her of her sunny mornings until the clouds and fog clear away. And yet where the dreary weather saps energy from the residents of Ryslig in every way it can, Trish finds herself restless. Restless and left to her own thoughts. When she closes her eyes, she sees the month from before play out again in a different sequence every time, but the memories are sharply defined, like they just happened yesterday.

Memories that should be hazy, but felt real in the moment, and so have become sharper than anything. She can still hear Doppio call out her mother's nickname. She can still feel the crushing grip of Vecna's extremities around her neck.

She recalls...Max coming to save her.

To be sure, she's never thought of Max as a bad person. A bad person would have no place in Giorno's home. But they've been at odds since the start, and Trish wondered if the trust Max inspired in Giorno did not extend to her. They've avoided one another, and she can only imagine her absence from the palazzo was a relief if Max noticed it at all. But Max still came, and proved Giorno right. Max and her secret weapon – and, thinking back...she's always had her secret weapon close at hand, hasn't she? The serene voice of Kate Bush has been her constant companion since the trip to see Fugo's decision realized.

The world of void and red and incomprehensible architecture comes to mind, as do the many memories of Max's life, and Trish has spent many nights tapping out the notes of the song that rose to her throat perhaps because she had become hopelessly entangled with Max.

Part of her has come to think...maybe they got off on the wrong foot. She's not sure they could be friends or anything like that, but they can maybe stop avoiding each other in full view of everyone else. Maybe they can be a little better. Maybe...she's waited too long, and saying anything won't matter, but ultimately she's got to say something. Otherwise, she'll go mad from doing absolutely nothing to acknowledge what happened while she was some foundling with nothing to call her own besides her name, as opposed to now. Now, while she's fully cognizant and in control of herself.

It's late in the night, and she's fully transformed again, her time in her coat over for some hours, so she's mindful to plod silently along as she looks for Max. She's not sure of the waldgeist's haunts, but for a creature undead...she's not liable to be asleep, is she?]

cw: truth-telling hypnosis throughout, alcoholism mention, depression

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Since the Pale Fog, Max has been bad.

For a brief period of time, she tried to push through everything that had been dredged up. The memories, the experiences, the ache deep in her unhealing bones. She'd even tried to lean into the fact that her brother's old car is now her new car, despite the sea of complicated emotions washing over her.

Then the expedition happened, and consequently, her first kill. And Max stopped trying to do much of anything.

The timing of it all didn't help. A few days with bad associations suddenly gaining more, and now it won't stop raining, and with this compulsion deep within her, the music urging her to open up like her fucking high school counselor, she can't even find comfort in sitting with Basil for fear of blurting out any of the myriad reasons he shouldn't be friends with her.

It's dizzying and it's terrifying, and she doesn't even touch her laptop, for fear of the compulsion extending to that as well, so she really is well and truly isolated, with only Kate Bush for company. How achingly familiar. She feels like a precariously stacked Jenga tower, about to topple at any moment with just the slightest bit of thoughtless pressure applied.

All this to say. Trish hasn't really crossed her mind much. Yes, there's always the lingering fear that the other girl will lose patience with her, but it means Max has even less patience to deal with her than usual. Instead of just leaving the room when Trish enters, she's started training her ears for the familiar footfall of heavy bear feet, so she can abscond before Trish even sees her. Honestly, despite the crying in the air the first half of the month, she's gotten pretty good at it, too.

But right now, Max has to keep a constant supply of her own music pumping into her ears to drown out the enticing violin, so it's only natural that this falls through the cracks.

Where can Max be found? Why, in the kitchen. She's got a nice supply of jerky in her room, but she now knows that won't keep her going forever, so she's trying to cook up something from the stock they have in the frying pan. Helping Fugo cook has given her a rudimentary knowledge, and it's not like she's completely helpless in the kitchen; she wouldn't have been able to make it those months her mother threw herself into alcohol to cope with the reality of where the last few years had lead them if she was.

So it's perhaps the smell of frying meat—human meat—that could signal Max's location, where the dead girl stares and waits for it to resemble something less raw. Of course she could eat it now, but that would only make her feel worse, emotionally.

Or, perhaps it's the muffled sound of synths and drums, if i only could, i'd make a deal with god, poorly affixed to her floppy ears.

Either works. ]

E-Vite!

[i_am_emmet]

[When the message is opened there will be an invitation to a surprise birthday party for Ingo on May 22nd, with the location to the train house in it at 9PM. There is also a note about being able to bring friends if you want, contact Emmet if it will be more than 2 people!]

[Also, 'SURPRISE PARTY' is bolded and underlined, and there is also an amazingly ugly ASCII artwork of a Litwick.]

<MADMAX>

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Max receives this weird little invite and squints at it. How'd he get her information...? From Gladion, probably? ]

what is that

[ Clearly, however, the question to ask is about the ASCII artwork. ]

June 25th - <TheCoolestTurtle>

[makesascene]

SKATE OR DIE (again)

You're choice, Max. Choose wisely!

<MADMAX>

[zoomingupthathill]

hello to you too
skate of course
the second part of that question is a little insensitive but its whatever

why are you asking

[ Had this not come during The Worst Month™, Leo might get more, but well, she's feeling pretty to the point right now. ]

<FLY> (06/23)

[jumpie]

hi max! (oDo)b
you doing ok after that tree stuff?

<MADMAX>

[zoomingupthathill]

fine
ready to cut a tree if it looks at me funny but fine

[ This is not entirely a lie!

It's the rest of the month that's been overwhelming and—excuse the pun—unbearable. ]

its not the worst shit thats happened here
you?

7/2 | Action, Evening

[polarvoid]

[It's just barely gone from June to July. The weather is getting warmer by the day, even for being on a Peninsula, which means that Basil's favorite hobby is ironically more comfortable to do after dark than it ever was during the day. Not that gardening during the day could bother a monster immune to fire...but it is a problem given the fact that Basil can no longer be out in the sun, period. It's why, just a few days prior, he'd summoned Mana for the first time since summoning her months ago to ask if she could give him something to protect him from the sun during the day. Something magical, perhaps, like a sun hat...

And, well. She didn't. At least, it wasn't something physical. She just assured him his request would be granted "in due time" and disappeared shortly thereafter. It's why, earlier today, Basil had nearly accidentally blitzed himself into stone trying to test if Mana had fixed him yet or not. Oh well...there wasn't much else he could do other than wait.

Things as of late have not been positive. Between the incident with the trees, and the incident with Trish leaving Max understandably frazzled, Basil had been trying to do his best to give her a bit of space regarding...everything. Now that she had a new Walkman, it meant that she could at least listen to her music again and relax somewhat. He thinks about that trip to the mall often, actually. It had been hard for Max, but he was proud of her for managing to push past her insecurities and trauma and just...go. But that's not really the part about it that stuck with him.

But that part, if he thinks about it too hard, makes his chest feel like it's going to explode. So he has to be careful.

It's been rough for a lot of reasons. Between the Trish situation, and Steve going home, and even Basil's ongoing struggles with Sunny...it's all a lot piled on collectively to think about. Which is why Basil had asked Max to come with him after sunset so she could see the plants he has cultivating in his garden, newly set up over the last month in the impromptu greenhouse that Kaito had set up on the Palazzo's back lawn for him.]

These are my Vanilla Lillies that Mr. Pure Vanilla gave me! And Jellyragoras!

[He's showing off his "plants from other worlds section", excitedly gesturing to each as he explains what they are. The lillies...are strange, because they look VERY much like closed eyes, their petals unfurled around the centers like eyelashes.

Before Max can ask about it, Basil is already very carefully using his claws like a trowel to dig into one of the pots, pulling out what looks like...literally a little tube-like plant that looks like a tiny guy. Like, it has a face (it looks like its asleep) and nubby arms and legs.]

He says they have a defense mechanism when they mature that makes them unplant themselves and run around screaming...but they'll plant themselves again if you leave them alone. It's just magic. Isn't that cool?

["""""Just"""""" magic]

cw: ptsd mentions, depression

[zoomingupthathill]

[ It feels like it's been a slow-motion trainwreck of a summer so far. That's the opposite of last summer, which was great until it abruptly wasn't. So maybe it's a sign that it'll keep being steadily bad, instead of suddenly crushing.

Max has spent the last few days doing...something with Will. Should Basil have asked, she's responded with an embarrassed grumble that he'll see soon, that it's just a project she's helping him with. But it's been clear that she's distracting herself. Every waking moment, it's been something, out of fear that she'll fall back into a crushing depression the moment she wakes up on the 4th and expects to hear fireworks and screaming.

It's technically been over a year. If she's counting chronologically, it had actually been the anniversary of Billy's death shortly after this new year started. Shortly after she met Basil. But months tended to blur and fly for Max when her mood drops, and it certainly proved that way in her initial arrival in Felfri and adjustment in Ryslig, as death refused to let her go for all but a month. The weather shoots her back to those summer days, and the already gaping feeling of loss when she thinks about Steve put her in just the right position to close her eyes and feel El's weight against her, or the back of Billy's hand on her cheek—see the tendrils tear into his body, the hole in his stomach. Hear his weak apology, smell his blood, so thick she could taste it in the air.

So yes. With this, and with the trees, and with Steve, and with Trish, Max is desperate not to sit and feel it. This also means, consequently, though she has her new Walkman, she tends towards listening to it with company, rather than alone in her room. It's an echo back to the old Max. The energetic, active one, who sought people out instead of pushed them away. She tells herself it's not pretending when she genuinely wants connection. The idea of losing someone else keeps reaching down her throat and clawing at her insides. It's been planted in her head that one by one, they're all going to vanish, and she'll be stuck all alone. So she starts making plans. Going out, seeing people.

It means she doesn't have to come home ("home") to a mansion with two less occupants—one against his will, and one by choice.

Today, she's adjusting her skateboard while she sits in the grass next to Basil's garden. She doesn't even have to ask, he approaches her—which has her feel some kind of way, which...also has her feel some kind of way. Funny and fuzzy, and overwhelmingly guilty.

A small wrench in her hand, she tilts her head at the Jellyragoras, somewhere between amazed and grossed out. ]

Oh, I guess magic's just normal for you, isn't it? [ She teases, reaching out a hand toward the plant but stopping short. ] Can I touch it?

[ It is, for the record, much nicer for her after dark, too. Moreso than usual, what with the hot temperature, and how long days last and how short nights are. That used to be a joy for her, a California girl born and bred; either warm San Diego beaches or green Hawkins fields, where she'd listen to the waves or feel the blades of grass tickling her freckles.

Now, she longs for the day to end, so the heat won't beat down on her, exhausting her body and frustrating her mind. ]

july 5th? idk probably.

[digiorno]

[it's late enough in the evening that the summer sun is sinking below the horizon. giorno, lounging on his back on a divan parked on the palazzo's lake-facing third-floor patio, one ankle perched on the opposite knee . . . pulls out his laptop.]

[he's going to be responsible, but he's going to do it as irresponsibly as he possibly can. and he's going to do it wearing these sunglasses until he literally cannot see any longer. fuck you, sadness, eat a dick about it.]

hi max
when you have some time i wanted to check in with you about something i'd like your input on
it is trish-related as a fair warning, so i defer to your preferences as to when, where, and how we discuss

works for me!

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Max gets this message while she's holed up in bed, not exactly avoiding anyone but rather giving into her burning legs and how angry they are at her for all the running off her emotions she did last night. If she wants to go to school tonight—which, honestly, jury's still out on—she needs to rest, and that means all there is to do is see what other comments the introduction video is receiving and scroll idly through the network.

And make lists. Max has started and scrapped so many lists today it's unreal.

So the message finds her after much, much sleeping to make up for all that she missed yesterday, while she's deleting the words 1. pleasant scent from the notes app she has open.

The contents of the message itself... Well. ]

ive got nothing but time today
what is it
did you hear from her?

[ Max is...not worried, not concerned. Most definitely not. ]

evening of 7/13

[familyproblem]

If you have a moment to spare I could use your input on a ridiculous personal issue.

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.]

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Max, who is dealing with her own ridiculous personal issues— ]

yeah sure alright ive got a few hours until class

early frankenevent.

[201graves]

[It goes something like this.]

[Given that it's a little easier for Harrow to go out amongst the people this week (bear brain grumbling less, bug brain looking for trouble more), she's been running errands. Which is a patently absurd concept. She is the Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Heir to the Ninth House and Ruler over Drearburh, the Ninth Saint of the King Undying. She should have somebody running errands for her.]

[Then again, if things were as they ought to be back home, she would be eagerly awaiting a decadent lunch of snow leek gruel and nutrient paste, so maybe she shouldn't bitch so much.]

[Regardless: Harrow is heading into town, carrying an extremely incongruous small purse slung over her shoulder. It has a little bear on the clasp. Ianthe probably got it from 8-12, but either way she's insisted that Harrow use it for carrying money, and Harrow is much less likely to tell her to go fuck herself currently, what with the exposed chest cavity and all. Thus, towards Bavan she trots, a bug on a mission.]

[The sun rises.]

[Somewhere along the way, she discovers what appears at first to be a statue. It's a weird statue, mind. In fact, the more she circles it, head twitching back and forth at odd angles to catch as complete an image as she possibly can, the more she starts to recognize it. Yes, this is the one — Ianthe likes this one. She came to see the chickens. Harrow remembers. The one with red hair like—]

I don't think this is right, [she murmurs, lower hands twisting together uncertainly like a fly's while the other two come to half-cover her mouth. Stomping a small circle around Max, she looks toward Bavan, then in the direction of the farmhouse. One of those directions is almost certainly correct. But — but — but it doesn't feel right! It feels awful! It feels certain that there's only one possible correct answer here!]

[South. South to the dark and the dim, the caves at the edge of the sea, the salt-place, the secret-place. Max is Ianthe's. Max must be safe. Max is Ianthe's, Max must be safe, so to keep her safe, to keep her safe Harrowhark must take her to the salt water because nothingnothingnothing can take her there.]

[The decision is made in a split second, action taken even quicker. Looping the long strap of the purse around her neck, she quite simply lifts the Max-statue by the middle and hefts her over one shoulder. Like it's nothing. She doesn't know how she does this or how exhausted it will leave her later, only that she can to it and therefore she will.]

[Without hesitation, she turns to the south. And she begins to run.]

[hup hup hup]

[The next few hours are probably pretty boring for Max. As distressing and confusing as it is to start, there's really not much to do but settle in for the ride. It's for the best in a way that she's stone because it means she won't get horribly poked by the gembone growths on Harrow's shoulders, but on the other hand, she's being carried on her stomach so she's facedown the whole way, giving very little indication of where exactly she's being carted off to. The changing ground is the most significant clue. It goes from wet and muddy by Lake Dala to rocky a bit further south and then, the nearer they get to the sea, the more sand begins to creep in between the scrub grass.]

[Along the way, Max has a good view of the purse (which bounces against Harrow's chest but otherwise does nothing) and the cavernous, toothy mouth on her upper chest just below where Max herself is being held. It gets very small upon being noticed, as if shy, before sticking its tongue out. Mlem.]

[And then suddenly they're no longer running on dirt, they're running on rocks with patches of sand in between. Harrow hops the sharpest rocks like they're inconsequential, her feet making a somewhat grating noise against them rather than the slap of flesh on stone. She seems to know where she's going, but it's not clear how she knows — and then she jumps again and the grating doesn't come, there's just a splash, and Max sees the hem of her dress float up, soaked immediately by the sea in the narrow, knee-deep channel leading from . . . somewhere to the ocean.]

[Positives here: Harrow is walking away from the ocean towards the somewhere. So this probably isn't a drowning situation. Another positive: it takes very little time at all for almost complete dark to fall over the two of them. The cave (because that's what it is) isn't terribly wide, but it's tall enough that she can carry Max over her head for quite a ways, long enough that daylight is a reachable but dim threat at the mouth of the cave.]

[Once they've reached that point, Harrow heaves Max-the-statue over her shoulder again, plops her feet-first into the skinny pool of briny water that follows the path of the cave, and leans her carefully against the wall of the cave so she doesn't fall down as she. Thaws? Let's go with thaws.]

[Bright-eyed in the darkness, she plants herself a few feet towards the entrance, perched on a convenient stone that is fully surrounded by the stream of salt water on all sides. Her feet stay submerged as well. Her dress is, by this point, soaked halfway up her thighs. She is unmoved by this fact, and completely content to wait.]

cw: intrusive thoughts, dissociation, mild paranoia, ST4 spoilers

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Early on, after her would-be savior lift her up and carry her off, Max had plenty of room for panic. That's possibly what she hates most about this, how aware she's become of her own panic, when she's stuck unable to move. Internally she goes from screaming in outrage to begging the person not to kill her to...

Well. Utter boredom, when she realizes death is unlikely.

Like, sure, maybe it's some kind of ritualistic murder. She's familiar with those, intimately in fact! But that feels less like this the longer it goes on. It doesn't stop her from being worried, especially once she places who this is carrying her, after studying what facial features she can make out takes up the majority of her time to avoid going crazy—Ianthe's companion? Why? Is it some misplaced retribution for what happened with Trish, some declaration of war against the Palazzo? But that seems silly, after ten minutes of overthinking and paranoid panic inspired by the maddening stillness and silence.

Like a pendulum, she swings back and forth between active and passive concern, instead mostly zoning out out of a partial survival instinct. When she's stone for too long, she's found it feeds the darkest thoughts inside her, restless energy manifesting as self-loathing. So, her mind's started developing some sort of defense mechanism against it, leaving her slightly numb but not tearing herself apart.

Which. Again. Manifests as boredom. Losing track of time, until they reach the cave. The world turning dark as well as still gets her on edge again, even as her body rests against the wall.

Pixelated rock melts away, and what does Max do? How does she thank her savior for this incredibly roundabout rescue?

She follows through on the snarl her mouth has been stuck in the formation of, and the instant her body is fully free, she pounces at Harrow, like a wet cat of a bug-dragon. ]

during the event

[demogorgoned]

[When the song stops, Will's hand slides down from his ear to touch the back of his neck. The action is automatic, and for a moment he just sits there and stares blankly into the distance.

Then, he rises. He has to find Nancy, because she'll know what to do—no. Nancy's not here anymore. Steve isn't either. He wishes Barb was around, desperately. She always had a plan, no matter how scared she was, and right now Will is scared. He could use her support and he misses her something fierce. She's like an older sister to him, and Will misses her almost as much as he misses Jonathan.

After considering the options, Max is his first stop. He doesn't remember where Robin is working off the top of his head, but he knows Max is probably at home. If she's not asleep, this is important enough to wake her up.

He knocks on the door.]

Max? Max, something weird happened and I think the Upside Down might have come to Ryslig.

[zoomingupthathill]

[ Max, in fact, is asleep!

Behind the door, there's a light, light grumble, but no other stirring.

Knock louder, Will. ]