[And once again, Max was preparing to wander back into a familiar world, one composed of sand and heat and unrelenting danger. It was just how his life usually panned out, wasn't it? If he wasn't lurking on the outskirts of the Plains of Silence in his world, he was doing so here in Solmara. But before that, Aurora had at least been kind enough to compose survival backpacks for them.

Before they set out, Max opens the bag with his name on it — and ah, look at that! Looking over his shoulder will provide someone with his name, if they hadn't been told it by someone else. A few items earn a satisfactory nod or grumble, up until he reaches...

Sunscreen?

With a slight frown (a resting scowl, even), he holds the bottle up to the nearest person.]

What is this?

[Wastelanders, with sunscreen? Even with Max's more fulfilled childhood at the edge of society's end, this has never once come up.]

[The arrival is without fanfare.

In just a few steps, the air goes from pleasant and clean to encroaching, hot. It warms the skin and dries the eyes quickly, but Max is hardly challenged by it; he imagines Furiosa isn't much influenced either, and he glances back at her before he starts wandering forward. To him, this is nothing. It's like returning to reality after a pleasant dream. To the others, he knows it must just be another unpleasant adaptation to a mission. Foreign lands.

He walks them toward an old rusted fence that has been shreded up, some parts gone and likely used for supplies. Max has certainly snipped some things off for use in the past. Mirkwood's all barren trees, and every so often something big flies overhead. He pointedly says:]

Glasswings. Don't look up, or you'll hurt your eyes.

[... Well. Scott might not hurt his eyes. But everyone else, best not. As they wander in a group, they pass a clearly human skeleton tangled up in some kind of abandoned vehicle — and Max can't help but think of Aurora's uncertainty, before they entered the portal: "I cannot guarantee your return from death." He offers unhelpfully:]

Sometimes you stay bones.

Try not to die here.

[How strange has their lives become, that the idea of a failed resurrection fills him with unease? Mm. Well. Hopefully nobody dies. As they go, he'll be available to anyone who may want to wander with someone watching their back.

Just try not to get tangled up with a monster in the wild while we're out, hmm?

(Easier said than done.)]

(CW: mental illness, potential ableist thoughts/talk, hallucinations)

[There is something about this Max guy that becomes more obvious the longer people are in his presence: he's the dictionary definition of haunted or something like it. As they journey to find a suitable place to set up base camp, he often stares off for long stretches at a time, and sometimes his lips move, form words that are so quiet that it's hard to hear any of it. Anyone who moves a hand too quickly while he's in a silent, listless state will be met his body jolting and his eyes snapping to attention toward them.

Skittish. That's a way to put it. A skittish creature, especially the longer he's left in a world that draws him back into old ways. Voices trickle into his head, remind him of what he is — of what he'll lose. The ghosts have never gone away, because his brain will never be right. He knows this. He accepts it. Accepts being a psychotic.

The first night in camp, he stays up all night, staring off into the blue-hued distance, battling ghosts that people can't hear or see. You'll get them all killed, someone whispers. Angharad cradles her infant to her chest, eyes gleaming in the distance. Who'll go under the wheels this time? But eventually... eventually he nods off, sitting up with his rifle leaning on his shoulder. He twitches, mumbles in his sleep.

If someone makes the unfortunate mistake of reaching out to shake him awake, they'll find him intaking a sharp gasp of breath just before he swings a solid fist at their face.

The second night in camp, he stays a little further from the others, armed with a thermal blanket around his shoulders. It's not until Furiosa finally intervenes that he gets up and quietly follows after her, his eyes more clear and focused on the woman walking ahead of him. It's the days that follow that when he returns to camp, he finally seems to be more clear-headed and focused on scouting and offering aid to the others who come and go.]

[Literally anything else, hit me up. I'm down! Can do closed starters or anything else needed here under this one. :)]