who: helena and others! what: variety catchall for the month. when: end of july/ all of august. where: across the boat. warnings: likely discussions of death.
He hugs her back just as tight and then sniffles hard because a sudden wave of emotions is trying to squeeze out through his eyes and nose.
"H-Helena..." He has to tell her or someone else will. He'd rather it be him. "The whole thing was being broadcast here. It was on all the televisions."
This close, holding her, he can feel the way tension enters her body, draining away the good mood she'd had. Her hand tightens in his clothes, and there's a long moment there where she says nothing at all. Nothing, because if she opens her mouth, she's going to scream.
When that impulse is past, when she speaks again, it's low, almost flat.
"Did you see what happened?"
Did you see me, is the question she really wants to ask. Because if someone brings it up to her, if she does not love and trust them, she doesn't trust her own hands to stay steady. To not fling herself over the side of the boat, this time to float where she can't be talked to. To not hurt them on some unreasonable impulse that they're not allowed to see her when she can't see them.
His arms clutch her tightly, feeling the way she tenses. He's sorry. He's so fucking sorry. He's frozen in place right alongside her, not even letting himself breathe until she finally makes a sound.
"No. I didn't watch. I stayed in the kitchen the whole time because I... I didn't want to see." And he doesn't want to know. He doesn't want her to tell him. This entire thing was and still is an unending nightmare.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Smashing them didn't work. They fixed themselves. I couldn't... I couldn't do anything."
"It's not your fault, Max. You did what you could."
The tone could easily be mistaken for grief, for a long worn sorrow, because what she feels right now, she's never shown in front of him. But it's anger, welling up from some deep and dark place inside of her, in the depths of her subconscious, responding to a feeling of being humiliated in a way that might have been easier to stomach if she was vivisected.
Breathe. Breathe. It has to hurt. If she can't calm down, then having breakfast will only make her sick, and then all of Max's hard work will be undone. Her hand relaxes, but not the rest of her.
"Thank you for not looking."
It has to hurt. Her dignity needs to shatter, if not her will. She can only hope, pray, that it is not discussed. That something else happened at that moment in time that was far more interesting and dramatic and painful. Selfish as the wish is, she hopes someone else was in pain in a way where it outweighed hers, just long enough for them to fall.
If he asks, she will tell him. But that information is nothing she'll volunteer.
"I know. I know. I just... I hate this for you. I'm so..." Mad. That's what it is. He recognizes it now that he can see it mirrored in her. He knows her too well to mistake it for anything else, no matter how well she does hiding it from him.
"It was harder not to listen. But, um. That's because it didn't broadcast any of the audio of what you all said. It was... there was really shitty music playing the whole time instead."
The question startles him back. He expels a sound that's neither a laugh nor a sob, but a cough of surprise.
"It was... I mean, I can tell you the song but I don't think you'll know it. But it was like someone was playing it badly on purpose. On loop. For hours."
She's quiet for a moment, letting that sink into her, before she makes a sound, a sort of helpless, exasperated noise that can't decide if she wants to laugh or cry. What was the reason for it? Why do such a thing, in the midst of misery? Between the two horrors, she knows what she sees as worse.
It's a physical thing, when she gives up after that information. Just slumps against him, head on his shoulder, unsure of what to do or be next.
The moment she slumps over, Max turns his head so he can press his lips to the side of her face. It would be a kiss except that he isn't moving away again, but keeping his face there pressed against her so that when he speaks, his lips brush her cheek.
"You can go back to sleep for a little while if you want. It's pretty early. You don't have to worry about the food I... think I got a new gift."
This is a certainty. She can't go to sleep, if someone isn't here. They're going to come back, smother her. But her hands pat his back, and pulling back is only done with the greatest reluctance. He's here. She's here. And tonight, as promised, he'll get to sleep with loved ones on either side, so he knows they won't disappear.
"Okay, I understand. I'll be there with you and Security tonight to help with them." He knows he already promised, but he wants her to know he intends to keep it.
"Thank you. But, you really don't have to eat it until you're ready. The neat thing is, for the last three days, all the food I make stays perfectly hot even after it's been a while. So, it won't be ruined if you need to take some time."
"That's wonderful, actually...it's like magic made just for you."
Something that suits Max as opposed to anyone else. So that he could demonstrate his care and not have it be time sensitive. The Erda, occasionally, might be kind in that respect.
"Did you just figure it out? Or did something happen?"
"Yeah," he says, brightly, like that's only just dawned on him. "I guess it is." He's beaming bright enough that she won't be able to miss the smile in his voice.
He's happy to continue along this line of conversation. It's a safe topic, one that uplifts him and, hopefully, that will help her too.
"It just happened. I got a package a day after you all left and when I opened it there was just a puff of steam. I didn't think anything of it until I baked some cookies and set them out to cool. I came back an hour later and they were still warm. Then, everything I made after did the same. It all stays at the perfect temperature. Hot or cold. It made getting breakfast for everyone waking up today a lot easier."
"People talk about the force that brought us here and being touched by destiny, It..." She gives a small yawn, shaking off the last of sleep for now. "This means part of your destiny is being able to make things without having to worry they won't be enjoyed at their best. I think there's a lot of chefs that would give anything to be able to get a gift like that."
And to be able to share his care and love this way, in such an innate action to look after another, to support a group - it's impressive. She ends up chuckling a little, a real thing.
"The great wizard Max, touched by destiny to be the finest baker in the lands. That's what it sounds like."
"Yeah." His voice softens with gratitude. If this really is the Erda confirming for him what his destiny should be, then he's so glad it's this. He's ready to embrace that role as support and carer. "This is exactly the kind of thing I would have wished for if I... ha. If I ever found a magic lamp." Is that tasteless to say given what their Captain is? He hopes not.
"I think you mean the greatest baker on the seas." He hugs her close again because saying thank you right now doesn't feel powerful enough. He was supposed to be the one comforting her, but she's doing just as much for him right now.
"If my destiny is to make people feel better with my food, then yours much be to do the same but with your words. Because I always come away from a conversation with you feeling inspired."
"I hope so. It's why I want to write - so I can express with chosen words things that I want everyone to feel, to experience. To give them something they can't get on their own."
Hugging him back, there's more warmth in her voice, less tension in her frame. Talking like this is doing wonders to push back the death, the waiting, the unpleasant news.
"I want to let other people read my words and understand something that I need them to know, without me saying it aloud. Telling the stories I want to, because I simply have to do it."
"I know you'll succeed at it. You have so much talent and so much care. You have the power to make us laugh, cry, to feel something deep in our souls through your words. I can't wait to see what stories you'll have to tell."
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no subject
"H-Helena..." He has to tell her or someone else will. He'd rather it be him. "The whole thing was being broadcast here. It was on all the televisions."
no subject
When that impulse is past, when she speaks again, it's low, almost flat.
"Did you see what happened?"
Did you see me, is the question she really wants to ask. Because if someone brings it up to her, if she does not love and trust them, she doesn't trust her own hands to stay steady. To not fling herself over the side of the boat, this time to float where she can't be talked to. To not hurt them on some unreasonable impulse that they're not allowed to see her when she can't see them.
no subject
"No. I didn't watch. I stayed in the kitchen the whole time because I... I didn't want to see." And he doesn't want to know. He doesn't want her to tell him. This entire thing was and still is an unending nightmare.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Smashing them didn't work. They fixed themselves. I couldn't... I couldn't do anything."
no subject
The tone could easily be mistaken for grief, for a long worn sorrow, because what she feels right now, she's never shown in front of him. But it's anger, welling up from some deep and dark place inside of her, in the depths of her subconscious, responding to a feeling of being humiliated in a way that might have been easier to stomach if she was vivisected.
Breathe. Breathe. It has to hurt. If she can't calm down, then having breakfast will only make her sick, and then all of Max's hard work will be undone. Her hand relaxes, but not the rest of her.
"Thank you for not looking."
It has to hurt. Her dignity needs to shatter, if not her will. She can only hope, pray, that it is not discussed. That something else happened at that moment in time that was far more interesting and dramatic and painful. Selfish as the wish is, she hopes someone else was in pain in a way where it outweighed hers, just long enough for them to fall.
If he asks, she will tell him. But that information is nothing she'll volunteer.
no subject
"It was harder not to listen. But, um. That's because it didn't broadcast any of the audio of what you all said. It was... there was really shitty music playing the whole time instead."
no subject
It's still possible to startle her from her current dark emotions - Max has just done it.
no subject
"It was... I mean, I can tell you the song but I don't think you'll know it. But it was like someone was playing it badly on purpose. On loop. For hours."
no subject
It's a physical thing, when she gives up after that information. Just slumps against him, head on his shoulder, unsure of what to do or be next.
no subject
"You can go back to sleep for a little while if you want. It's pretty early. You don't have to worry about the food I... think I got a new gift."
no subject
This is a certainty. She can't go to sleep, if someone isn't here. They're going to come back, smother her. But her hands pat his back, and pulling back is only done with the greatest reluctance. He's here. She's here. And tonight, as promised, he'll get to sleep with loved ones on either side, so he knows they won't disappear.
"Besides, they smell really good."
no subject
"Thank you. But, you really don't have to eat it until you're ready. The neat thing is, for the last three days, all the food I make stays perfectly hot even after it's been a while. So, it won't be ruined if you need to take some time."
no subject
Something that suits Max as opposed to anyone else. So that he could demonstrate his care and not have it be time sensitive. The Erda, occasionally, might be kind in that respect.
"Did you just figure it out? Or did something happen?"
This is easier to talk about than the excursion.
no subject
He's happy to continue along this line of conversation. It's a safe topic, one that uplifts him and, hopefully, that will help her too.
"It just happened. I got a package a day after you all left and when I opened it there was just a puff of steam. I didn't think anything of it until I baked some cookies and set them out to cool. I came back an hour later and they were still warm. Then, everything I made after did the same. It all stays at the perfect temperature. Hot or cold. It made getting breakfast for everyone waking up today a lot easier."
no subject
And to be able to share his care and love this way, in such an innate action to look after another, to support a group - it's impressive. She ends up chuckling a little, a real thing.
"The great wizard Max, touched by destiny to be the finest baker in the lands. That's what it sounds like."
no subject
"I think you mean the greatest baker on the seas." He hugs her close again because saying thank you right now doesn't feel powerful enough. He was supposed to be the one comforting her, but she's doing just as much for him right now.
"If my destiny is to make people feel better with my food, then yours much be to do the same but with your words. Because I always come away from a conversation with you feeling inspired."
no subject
Hugging him back, there's more warmth in her voice, less tension in her frame. Talking like this is doing wonders to push back the death, the waiting, the unpleasant news.
"I want to let other people read my words and understand something that I need them to know, without me saying it aloud. Telling the stories I want to, because I simply have to do it."
no subject