#isolatexpsychotic

[nuxtheuncrackable-blog]

"It won't heal if you pick it. Hands off."

“But it itches! It all itches! Just flay me and leave me for dead, brother.” 

[completely-nux]

@isolatexpsychotic: | “Nux, what the…” Max turned the thing over in his hands, realising what it was. It should have been obvious that he’d never want to see the damn thing again, and for just a moment, he was angry. But he knew Nux wouldn’t understand that, the War Boy had actually decorated the muzzle for him. Turned it into something a bit less awful. He cracked a smile, his expression softening. “Thanks. That’s… uh, that’s good work there.”

|| Seeing Max’s expression he assumes he has fucked this up and instinctively shields his stomach with his arms. Watching him closely he untenses when the other smiles, offering an excited grin in return but it looks forced. Not entirely, but enough for it to be visible.

Not letting his guard down just yet he steps closer. ‘Thought it’d be nice to have something to remind you of when we first met! How we teamed up and stuff, you know?’

[completely-nux]

@isolatexpsychotic: | “Nux, I…” It was hard to explain, how could he put something that even he  didn’t fully understand into words. “I’m not used to it.” completely-nux: || ‘Wouldn’t be a Feral if you were.’ he murmurs, chewing the inside of his cheek     and fiddling with his own hands. Restless. Maybe even nervous.

   Nux looks at Max then, tilting his head with a light scowl and squint. ‘Though  Ferals don’t usually speak of redemption.’ he adds, wanting to try and figure out   what exactly was going on in the head of his blood bag. He wasn’t just another   feral. Not just another full life.

[trustywarpup]

The young pup made his way to the bloodshed, a small and damaged bear plush whose partially burnt fur was covered in faint smears of white clay, black grease circles in place for its missing bead eyes. One leg and an ear had been torn off, some of the stuffing hanging out. Odan had found it among the scrap they had been given to take apart so the wheels could be decorated, and had intended to give it to a sick war boy he used to watch over. 

And an intention it was going to remain as he walked up to the war boy who was laying on the stone edge that served as a bench, hooked up to a full life but not moving. Cold to the touch as the pup carefully poked the other’s arm. Not breathing. 

Holding his own breath in shock, the kid steps back and holds the bear closer trying not to let it show how much this upset him. The war boy had died soft. No witnesses. No glory. Not trusting his own voice not to betray him, he isn’t able to witness. Not vocally, at least. 

Taking more steps back, he moves closer to the cage the bloodbag hangs from, not paying attention to the muzzle clearly indicating he’s a feral. Odan sits down on the dusty floor, numbly staring down at the bear in his arms, not able to fight back some sniffles. 

@isolatexpsychotic

[completely-nux]

Nux has lost count of the days he spent wandering through the wasteland, skin scarred by burns inflicted by the explosion of the war rig especially in his face, and covered in sun burns. The right side of his face had endured most of the damage, his ear torn and both eyes a little fogged over and bloodshot. The iron cuff around his wrist with a small piece of chain still dangling from it had partially melted and got stuck on his skin, clearly having caused an infection during the healing process. Hand holding on to the steering wheel, refusing to let go of the only thing he had left as the driver unintentionally kept walking the same large circles, following the hazy light dot during the day that he thought was the sun. Not having been able to find food or water so far, nux's scarred lips were chapped and split with bloody crusts, spine and pretty much all prominent bones clearly visible. The war boy had sat down at last, too tired to move on. Still, when he caught the sound of something approaching he looked in the general direction of the sound trying to see something. Anything. Attempting to force his damaged eyes to focus with all the might he had left but failing. Knuckles turn white as he grips the useless steering wheel tighter, a painful growl sounding from a throat that was too dry. @isolatexpsychotic

[blackfeatherdriver]

@isolatexpsychotic:     Continued from here.

“Yes,” Max said, little expression in his voice. He hadn’t paid much thought to them, other War Boys, yet. The significance of Joe’s death had overwhelmed people’s minds, and even Max’s ususal vigilance was overcame by optimism for once.

Made sense that he’d have to face the fallout without his new allies, bad luck was the thing that couldn’t be killed.

“It had to be that way.“

It was difficult to imagine the change that was surely coming. Their god was gone, his mangled corpse ripped to literal pieces by the Wretched, and everything... everything was not as clear as it had previously been. There was no clear set path to Valhalla anymore.

“Good deaths on th’ Fury Road.” Except those words were dulled. The sick War Boy limped a few steps in a ranged semi-circle around the man, one of such pivotal roles that had lead to the Immortan’s downfall and the change that was surely to be wrought upon the Citadel, almost as if he were sizing him up.

Yet he did not attack.

[nuxtheuncrackable-blog]

🌹

I never in a million days, a million million days, had thought I’d become so fond of a damn BLOODBAG of all things! But you really... It was in that moment you handed me that wheel, that boot, covered in blood, I knew. It’s thanks to you, really, how my life turned around. I mean, Capable had a big part of it but let’s not diminish just how much that meant, Brother. 

[angharadical-blog]

🌹

“He held a gun on me once. Maybe, given time, he’d come to be a good man. Or maybe just a very dead one. What’s the difference, really.”