#prayer meme

[cheerfullycatholic]

[nuxtheuncrackable-blog]

"Am I interrupting?"

Capable had been busy, and Max needed his rest after so much blood transfusion. Nux, meanwhile, hadn’t been able to go very far away from the Blood Bay, even if he had wanted to. The Shrine, at least, wasn’t a far hobble on his borrowed make-shift leg. A change of scenery he had hoped would be good for his spirits. 

Really, though, it didn’t. He couldn’t even knit his hands in the proper reverent salute any more. A motion he had always found comfort in. He did his best, anyway, his remaining hand going through the motion even without it’s partner, pressed against his temple as he tried to find his center.  

At the sound of the voice behind him, he flinched and glanced over his shoulder. “No,” He murmured quietly, lowering his hand to his lap where he sat in the corner out of the way. He supposed it was about time for another familiar face to gawk at what was left of him. 

Realizing he should probably say more, he glanced back up at the tower of wheels glimmering in the light from above, “It’s real beautiful, aint it?”

[nuxtheuncrackable-blog]

"Am I interrupting?"

Evening had pressed around them, the sun setting as the Wives and the Sand Women-folk milling about to intermingle and set up camp for the night.  They seemed mostly disinterested in him, and he was alright with that.  The Bloodbag was taking watch, and Capable had joined in with the others to discuss... he supposed whatever it was they were supposed to do next. 

The Green Place was a lie.  Valhalla didn’t want him. He could feel his mates press deep into his throat, the edges of panic he had been swallowing all this time desperately trying to crawl it’s way out of him. If they kept going, he was fairly sure he wouldn’t make the journey. More supplies for the women, yes, but what was he supposed to tell Capable? He was dying, and he knew it. 

His hands knit in their salute against his chest as he sat against the tire of the Rig, staring at the sunset as he tried to keep himself calm. “V8 give me strength,” He whispered, “Immortan guide my...” No, the old prayers didn’t sit right. The Immortan wanted nothing from him but blood. If he found him, he’d be tried for treason along with Furiosa, tried and found guilty and made a bloody, painful example of. 

The panic was back, and his hands lifted up to his head, rocking slightly as he scrambled to find words that fit right. 

Cheedo’s voice tore him from the downward spiral in his head, glancing toward the source like a cornered wild dog. Yes, he was inclined to say, but maybe it was better to talk to someone. She wasn’t Capable, but they were brothers- sisters- she might understand. “No,” He corrected himself. “Was just... just... thinking.” More or less, anyway.