Max Caulfield (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mypartnerintime) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2018-04-14 10:21 am
mypartnerintime) wrote in entrancelogs2018-04-14 10:21 am
Entry tags:
Like classics, play aces
Who: Max and OPEN!
Where: The pool, the roof, the youth center, the destruction room, the music room
When: Last two weeks of April
Rating: Probably like G? PG?
Summary: Max does a bunch of stuff all by her lonesome, but all over, so you might just run into her!
The Story:
[The Pool]
It's around midnight that you might wander into the indoor pool area. Glowing blue patterns flow across the walls and ceiling as the underwater lights project the pool's ripples into the room, which is otherwise dim.
For now, Max is content to sit at the edge of the pool, hair soaked from her quick dip. Her legs move slowly beneath the surface, feet now and then breaking water, the soft splash upsetting the silence of the room. She's clearly lost in thought- staring at the pool, but obviously not seeing it, shoulders slumped into a relaxed (if not lazy) pose. Anyone entering the room is unlikely to rouse her, unless they're making a lot of noise.
[The Roof]
The night is quiet and dark, and cold, but Max is undeterred. Not only is she up on the roof at around eleven, but she somehow managed to lug up a telescope as well- no small feat given how sore she is (almost daily training does that to you, especially with Peggy as the instructor. Max swears what that woman wants is impossible sometimes). She's currently using the thing to look up at the sky. There's a small book next to her on constellations, and another booklet on how to use the telescope. She's not likely to find any use out of the former, however: the constellations are that of Earth.
Resting some way away is a messenger bag, a gray Polaroid camera peeking out from its open cover.
[The Youth Center]
In one corner of the Youth Center's arcade area, Max is frantically banging at the controls of an extremely old game. She looks like she's thoroughly enjoying herself, despite the fact that she leads her character to death several times.
"Oh come on!" she yelps as a floating green anvil slams into her character's stomach and flings him through a stone wall, leaving a person-shaped hole. Max gives the machine a little bang with her foot. At the same time she jabs impatiently at the buttons, restarting the game. "It was left that time?!"
These games were deliberately made to eat your time and money. Fortunately neither is a concern in Wonderland.
[The Destruction Room]
Along the hallway on the first floor, near room four, can be heard the sound of breaking plates. Max is inside what Mae once told her is the "destruction room". If someone were actually to open the door and peek inside, they'd find Max lazily pushing plates off the table so they shatter against the ground. Or even just pushing shards of broken china around with her foot. Or even just sitting in one of the chairs, listening to a bit of softly playing music.
In any situation, she starts as someone enters, turning quickly to look at them in surprise.
"H-hey," she stutters in greeting automatically, regardless of who she sees.
[The Music Room]
While Max tends to play guitar inside her own room, the better acoustics in the music room tempt her out now and then, so today she ends up practicing in there. Her own guitar is set to one side, replaced for now by an acoustic one hooked up to an amp- another benefit of the music room. (She'd be willing to have an amp in her own room, but she always worries it would bother the rooms near room seven on the third floor, who... well she barely even knows them. It's a little sad. Chloe used to live in room eight, and now there's a guy there that she's never really made the effort to talk to.)
She plays (quite proficiently) one of her favorite songs. And, more hesitantly, she sings quietly under her breath [not as good as the girl in the video, but it's in the same ballpark].
She stops singing if anyone enters, though they might catch the tail end of a note. In any case she nods at them with a smile, continuing to play, though more quietly.
Where: The pool, the roof, the youth center, the destruction room, the music room
When: Last two weeks of April
Rating: Probably like G? PG?
Summary: Max does a bunch of stuff all by her lonesome, but all over, so you might just run into her!
The Story:
[The Pool]
It's around midnight that you might wander into the indoor pool area. Glowing blue patterns flow across the walls and ceiling as the underwater lights project the pool's ripples into the room, which is otherwise dim.
For now, Max is content to sit at the edge of the pool, hair soaked from her quick dip. Her legs move slowly beneath the surface, feet now and then breaking water, the soft splash upsetting the silence of the room. She's clearly lost in thought- staring at the pool, but obviously not seeing it, shoulders slumped into a relaxed (if not lazy) pose. Anyone entering the room is unlikely to rouse her, unless they're making a lot of noise.
[The Roof]
The night is quiet and dark, and cold, but Max is undeterred. Not only is she up on the roof at around eleven, but she somehow managed to lug up a telescope as well- no small feat given how sore she is (almost daily training does that to you, especially with Peggy as the instructor. Max swears what that woman wants is impossible sometimes). She's currently using the thing to look up at the sky. There's a small book next to her on constellations, and another booklet on how to use the telescope. She's not likely to find any use out of the former, however: the constellations are that of Earth.
Resting some way away is a messenger bag, a gray Polaroid camera peeking out from its open cover.
[The Youth Center]
In one corner of the Youth Center's arcade area, Max is frantically banging at the controls of an extremely old game. She looks like she's thoroughly enjoying herself, despite the fact that she leads her character to death several times.
"Oh come on!" she yelps as a floating green anvil slams into her character's stomach and flings him through a stone wall, leaving a person-shaped hole. Max gives the machine a little bang with her foot. At the same time she jabs impatiently at the buttons, restarting the game. "It was left that time?!"
These games were deliberately made to eat your time and money. Fortunately neither is a concern in Wonderland.
[The Destruction Room]
Along the hallway on the first floor, near room four, can be heard the sound of breaking plates. Max is inside what Mae once told her is the "destruction room". If someone were actually to open the door and peek inside, they'd find Max lazily pushing plates off the table so they shatter against the ground. Or even just pushing shards of broken china around with her foot. Or even just sitting in one of the chairs, listening to a bit of softly playing music.
In any situation, she starts as someone enters, turning quickly to look at them in surprise.
"H-hey," she stutters in greeting automatically, regardless of who she sees.
[The Music Room]
While Max tends to play guitar inside her own room, the better acoustics in the music room tempt her out now and then, so today she ends up practicing in there. Her own guitar is set to one side, replaced for now by an acoustic one hooked up to an amp- another benefit of the music room. (She'd be willing to have an amp in her own room, but she always worries it would bother the rooms near room seven on the third floor, who... well she barely even knows them. It's a little sad. Chloe used to live in room eight, and now there's a guy there that she's never really made the effort to talk to.)
She plays (quite proficiently) one of her favorite songs. And, more hesitantly, she sings quietly under her breath [not as good as the girl in the video, but it's in the same ballpark].
She stops singing if anyone enters, though they might catch the tail end of a note. In any case she nods at them with a smile, continuing to play, though more quietly.
no subject
British, she almost says, but... from the 40's, right? The Second World War? Besides, it'd be pretty dumb to assume that every British person is a Beatles fan. That'd be pretty naive.
She suppresses a laugh at her own expense.
"Okay, to be fair, it's from the 60's, so... You might like them. The Beatles. They're British. Or... English? They're from there- you know, Britain. I mean the UK. Uh."
Max's inner voice is groaning very loudly, and her cheeks look a little pink.
no subject
But it's good to all of music doesn't go all the way to pot before the so-called modern day. Of course, who's to say she'd feel the same if she'd first heard an original recording instead? If it could happen with Elton John, couldn't it happen with someone else?
Still. The Beatles. She's got no way of knowing how the name is spelled, but the play-on-words is equally auditory. It tugs another smile out of her.
"And 'British' works just fine, fret not, there's no need to fuss over it."
Deep breaths and a bit of concentration, Max. Just like in training.
no subject
She strums lightly at the guitar as she casts about for something else to say.
"So... uh, were you going to play something?" Max is certainly willing to share the music room. "I wouldn't mind hearing some 40's grooves."
no subject
It's her turn to look a little chagrined. Perhaps she's got no business being here if she has no intention to pick up an instrument. But she does step deep enough into the room to stop and rock two fingers between a pair of piano keys, pulling a clunky tuneless sound from them when played first one and then the other and back again.
"I'm afraid I can't carry a tune." An apologetic smile. "But I was walking by on my way to elsewhere and your strumming made me stop. Insufferably nosy of me, I know. I could suggest a few artists, however, if you wanted to look them up for yourself."
no subject
And they all live way too close to one another to expect total privacy all the time- something Max had to learn early on. It was always a risk playing out in public like this. She sets aside the guitar, leaning it carefully on a stand.
"I'm kinda glad you walked in here. And yes, I'll trade you the Beatles for another artist. Or two."
no subject
Possibly a little too obvious, isn't it? Ella's a legend. But hers will often be the very first off her tongue. The second -- well, she considers the fact that she's just caught sound of Max playing a guitar and...
"For guitar," she nods to the instrument, "there's Charlie Christian. I do find myself a bit biased, however -- always partial to a bit of jazz."
no subject
"Jazz, huh? Does that mean you dance?"
The two kinda go hand-in-hand, right? The thought of her drill instructor dancing is enough to make a smile twitch at the edges of Max's mouth.
no subject
Once upon a time, the answer would have involved only the right partner. But the philosophy has adjusted, somewhat. Wonderland and heartbreak both have put the screws to such a simple view; talking about who's right and who's wrong is such a limiting conversation. She's beginning to wonder whether she shouldn't be looking for a good partner instead.
A worthy one.
no subject
"Sweet. So have you found someone yet?"
She's aware that's a personal question asked without much finesse, but hey, as long as Peggy's willing to talk. Not to mention Max can be nosy herself.
no subject
She clears her throat.
"It's not exactly a priority of mine," Peg hedges. "There are more pressing matters to look after, here in Wonderland, than filling one's dance card."
A twinge of the drill sergeant persona returns to her voice, not quite warning Max off the topic. But very nearly.
no subject
Max looks awkwardly at the guitar next to her. Silly.
"You know, uh... Some people say that when times are tough, stuff like dancing... probably matters more."
She shrugs.
"...But I bet they said that when times were easy."
no subject
Yes. When times are tough, some things matter more. But Peggy has never quite allowed herself to seize that attitude the way she ought to. Even now.
"Some people say so. Certainly." But look at this! A teachable moment. Rather than allow Max to slide by parroting someone else's words, she presses the point: "But what do you say? What's your opinion?"
no subject
But, obediently, she looks back at the hardest parts of her life. And she remembers: a fire rising up behind a beached, dead whale, in the thick of a storm- lightning flashing overhead- debris flying in the wind- and Max, standing there, taking the time to snap a photo.
And she remembers too, after her girlfriend left, the way that taking photos didn't seem all that relevant anymore. Like it all just hadn't... worked out the way it was supposed to. Like it was part of some happier, more innocent past, when photos could change her life.
"I think... being happy is really hard... sometimes. So when there's a safe chance for it, even in the middle of something really big... You should take it."
She looks at Peggy, not with insecurity or wariness, but with vulnerability- her expression soft and open.
"One day there just... might not be chances anymore."
no subject
Too often, Peggy relives the moment when she lost her chance. When her chance was lost for her, nose-diving into the Atlantic ocean. She thinks about it less and less here in Wonderland, but the hesitation it inspired in her still lingers. Enough so that she finds it hard to nod along and agree wholesale with Max's verdict.
Although -- although -- she does see the flicker of something open and honest in the young woman's eyes. And who is Peggy Carter to trample on it? She didn't take up her posting with SOE, with the army, with the SSR just to go around dousing the flames of other people's faith. Quite the opposite.
"It's a helluva thing," she starts carefully, "to have learned that lesson and yet still feel optimistic enough to heed it. "Someone once suggested to me that to pursue such happiness, even after losing our chances, might be the best defiance of all. Even in a place like this. Spitting loss in the eye, so to speak."
no subject
But instead of feeling good, it makes Max's gut sink. More and more she grows to admire Peggy- but there's no way she can admit to her than Wonderland's won. That, if Max really was being defiant, she'd be out there taking photos. Not in here with a guitar.
And it's even harder to admit that their daily training isn't about fighting back as much as it is about staying alive. That Max's fight or flight response has come up hard against a wall and the only choice left is to train.
If she were to guess- judging by the carefulness of Peggy's voice, the slight hesitation in her nod- Max isn't the only one hiding the entirety of what she feels. She wonders what struggles Peggy must have faced, to lead to such stoicism and carefulness.
"That sounds... cool." Max speaks slowly, her subdued tone a mismatch with the words. "Whoever said that is probably hella tough."
no subject
And Peggy smiles. It's quick, consisting of little more than a twitch in the corners of her mouth. Although she's inclined to agree -- whoever said it is indeed rather tough -- she isn't about to sing anyone's praises unnecessarily. Not least of all because the better she gets to know him the more she realizes how the same things that have toughed Rip Hunter have also made more prepared to seize what's good than Peggy has ever been.
"It's something to remember," she skirts around any discussion of who said what and how tough they might be, "as we're all knuckling down and preparing for the worst. Some of us could do with a lesson in hoping for the best."
no subject
It is pretty hard to stay optimistic. Even in moments that should be enjoyable- swimming, playing the guitar, video games- Max often finds herself drifting off into a state of worry over the impending difficulties. But this conversation as a whole has sort of been an eye-opener. Max has never really thought about it so much before. About deliberately taking the time to enjoy herself.
"I'll remember that, Peggy. Thanks." She pauses. "And you will too, right?"
no subject
"I'll try." Peg pledges. "And if I forget, I'm certain my someone 'tough' will remind me."
She breathes out through her nose. Knocks her knuckles briefly, abruptly, against the wood of an unattended piano. Its ribs and skeleton seem to thrum with even this little bit of percussion. And Peggy, with a sorta-smile, excuses herself.
"Do look up those names. And I'll see if I can't give your Beatles a bit of a listen--" she walks back towards the music room's door. "I'll see you in the morning, Max."