The way she says her name, it sounds to Furiosa like this is a girl with a reputation of her own. That makes her very curious, indeed, but now is not the time to question. She glances at the dog again, wondering if it has a name, assuming it does, and deciding to ask that, later, too.
"Well met. We can always use a mechanic," she says, understanding the need to bargain. Owing favors to strangers is never a good feeling. "There are some vehicles our friends left behind. Let's patch you up and then you can help us patch those engines up, and we'll go from there."
Meanwhile, they need shelter. Furiosa stands and gives a loud whistle, waving her metal arm to flag down the one vehicle of her entourage that remains behind. It's bigger than hers, essentially a truck with a cover over the back bed, and they camp in it in a pinch.
The Vuvalini driving it is the youngest still living (other than Furiosa), and once it's close as it can be, she slides out easily. The War Boy in the passenger's seat remains where he is, guarding quietly, but he's staring at Indrani with polite curiosity.
"Switch," Furiosa tells the older woman. "You and Spanner can take my car. See if you can gather the children; we can make sure they get home safe. If they won't come to you willingly, at least leave them water. This one needs stitching and shade and probably a nap."
The exchange of vehicles is efficient, over and done in the blink of an eye, but with a few friendly looks and subtle back-pats passing between all three. Not until the smaller car is speeding off does Furiosa turn back to Indrani and offer her left arm. "Let's get you into shelter. I'll help you up. Grab the metal all you need to; won't hurt me."
That's a lot of action to keep up with, and what she can follow, she's impressed with. She doesn't often see this sort of coordination, or not from the kind of people who might step in to help the underdog in a fight like hers. Maybe it's cynical, but she expects the well outfitted and decently trained to have gotten there by stepping on everyone else. Maybe if she had the energy she'd be a little more mistrustful, but she's willing to see where this goes.
In that swimmy, nonsensical way that the brain will fasten onto inconsequentials when there's too much going on (or not enough blood moving oxygen around, in this case), she finds herself staring at the arm a little. It's a mechanic's gaze, analytical and admiring, with no hint of pity or disgust. It's a pretty piece of work. She wouldn't be up to it. She nods and lets herself lean a bit on the other woman as she gets her feet back under her, not something she likes doing to friends, let alone strangers. "Right, thanks. Dogmeat, move." Not a very formal command, but it does the trick, and the dog trots along with her, looking as relieved as a canine face will allow. He lost a human before and prefers not to risk it happening again. "Ugh. Not usually stupid enough to get in the way of an idiot's bullet. Had better days."
To be fair, some of the coordination was taught by the previous regime, which really did do a lot more stepping on people then stepping in for them. Furiosa has just held onto some of what worked and redirected what didn't. The War Boys still need a fair bit of authority over them, lest they go off and assume their own might makes them right. There are changes, though. No unnecessary killing.
Furiosa doesn't really like having her arm stared at. It is what it is, and she's not ashamed by any means, but there's always a worry that an intent look means someone visually testing for weaknesses. In this case, she's inclined to let it slide, though. If she were in this woman's position, she'd be looking for weaknesses, too, if only to reassure herself.
"Dogmeat?" she repeats, helping Indrani slowly up to and into the back of the truck. There's no tailgate, just flexible webbing stretched across the end. There are supplies inside, bound tight so they don't bounce or fly around on a fast drive, but the truck bed is padded with dust and dried chaff from the gardens.
"Heh...I hear you, but any day I live through is a good day, as far as I'm concerned."
She's a bit defensive about his name, which she feels stops being funny or clever about twelve seconds in, but since he responds to it, she's stuck. "I didn't name him. Was written on his collar when we met." When Furiosa repeats it he wags his tail a bit, glad to be included. Stupid Dogmeat. Ah, well, she's starting to trust this woman, too, more than she really should.
At the bed of the truck, she makes an effort to clamber into place on her own. It's not particularly effective, but it's the principle of the thing. It does look cool and inviting in there. Traveling more or less alone like she does it would be stupid to have digs like this, but she can't help envying the relative comfort a bit. She'll have to go find her bike soon, but she's not sure she could even ride it with this arm. When she's a little more rested.
"So about those stitches you offered?" She'd like to just collapse, but she should get the dangerous bits out if it's safely possible and close up the worst of it.
Written on his collar? Furiosa has a suspicion that might have been meant to be a label rather than a name, in that case. "Would you believe I haven't seen a real live dog in over a decade?"
Pelts, yes. Actual animals, no. "I might have some questions for you later, but...yes. Stitches first."
She helps Indrani into the back, as much as seems necessary and no more. She can respect her need for some semblance of dignity. Furiosa climbs up after her, though, and pushes aside the webbing in case the dog insists on joining them. There's plenty of space.
She tugs at the ties holding rolled blankets and a ratty little bag down in the bed, and sets the roll just behind Indrani's back. "Lean if you have to. Breathe deep. Ever get sewn up before?"
She's guessing she probably has. Most Road Warriors seem to tend their own wounds. She wouldn't be entirely surprised if this woman could stitch herself up, but there's no reason she has to, here and now. Furiosa can do it, and doesn't mind. "Have to get the jacket off first..."
"He's my first. Was still chewing on the rats who took out his last owner," she babbles aimlessly, settling into place. She's decided the jacket is worth saving. She hates to waste even scraps. The shirts underneath can probably be reassembled into something later, but a coat that holds together reasonably well is worth salvaging. And that means taking a bit of care getting out of it. She grits her teeth and manages to get the uninjured arm out with just a bit of wincing. The injured shoulder, raw and ragged, is more of a problem. She bites down on her knuckles as she peels the shredded and bled on cloth free.
Ugh. That was bad. She's even a bit dizzy from that pain and awkwardness of that. Yes, she could probably stitch it up herself, if not well, but it would be nice to have another pair of hands in on it. "Might have to cut off the rest." The shirt she's wearing is patched and torn already anyway. She's not particular about it. "Just... Got anything I can bite while you get it done?"
Furiosa grimaces. Rats, she's seen, although usually they're being eaten rather than attempting attacks on human beings. She can see how they'd be dangerous, though. Bold, nasty things, especially when they're starving. Sounds like Dogmeat likes rat-meat, though. Didn't they used to have hunting dogs in the old world? She's heard they used to be trained to help the blind, too.
She doesn't interfere as Indrani struggles free of her jacket, but she nods in relief at the suggestion they just cut the shirt. "That'll be easier, yes. It won't help if you break your teeth...here." She reaches to undo one of her own belts, unbuckling and then folding it in thirds, then offering it out.
"Camel leather. Sorry if it tastes like road dirt." Her lips quirk in a smile that's meant to be part-sardonic, part-reassuring, and she pulls a pair of scissors out of the med kit, prepared to cut through the tattered shirt fabric before removing the scarf she's bound over the injury.
"What doesn't taste like road dirt?" She sounds more or less confident, though she's glad to have a woman helping her under these vulnerable circumstances. It may not be logical, but she can be calmer. And that, in turn, should be helpful if she does need to react quickly. She bites down on the heavy leather, focusing as best she can through the pain, and manages a crooked, slightly gap-toothed smile back. If she could really relax, this would be almost nice, and it's pretty close now.
And while there's pain in having the bloodied, stiff cloth cut away, it's clean and clarifying. The kind of pain that might mean avoiding the swelling and fever that comes of a wound healing dirty. Aside from a soft grunt and brightening eyes, she gives away nothing as the shirt and makeshift bandage come away. She's as thin and scarred as any loner out on the road, the only notable feature a few lines of dark blue ink peeking around her shoulders and sides. She makes a muffled sound of encouraging assent, only a bit strained.
"It's a good seasoning, road dirt, but a bit of it goes a long way." Furiosa has a somewhat deadpan sense of humor, but she does have one. She gives Indrani a reassuring nod and trims the sleeve and shoulder of her blouse carefully, laying it open until she can see the wounded area. Then she carefully unbinds the scarf.
The wound is a mess, predictably, and Furiosa breaks out some clean rags and water to swab it with first. She mostly uses her left arm to brace the younger woman, trusting the dexterity of the flesh-and-blood hand more. "It's not as mangled as I was afraid of," she tells her quietly, switching to iodine. "This part's going to sting. You can grab the metal if you need to."
She tries to respond, but her attempt to talk around the belt is totally unintelligible, so she keeps her not particularly clever retorts to herself. Bantering can help keep a girl sane, but it's not worth it to take the belt out of her mouth. She does make an attempt to smile around it in appreciation. It's a messy, tedious little chore that no one wants, patching up a mess like this, and the offer to hold onto the arm is appreciated. She tries not to cling too much, but her uninjured hand does drift to Furiosa's arm. Better than trying to dig into the bed of the truck and damaging her fingers. That'd be just her luck. Dogmeat whines a bit but stays put, having seen a few minor surgeries in his time and knowing it needs to be done.
Furiosa tends to clean and stitch a wound quickly, ruthlessly; she's done plenty of it on the road. You can't afford to be a bleeding heart when someone else is also bleeding. Still, she knows the value of distraction, and Dogmeat is helpfully volunteering. "You can do the stitching when you grow thumbs," she tells him over her shoulder. "Even with one arm, I'm still one up on you."
Her stitching is not especially pretty. It'll probably still scar; someone with two hands and medical expertise could do better. Still, it'll keep out the dirt, and that's what's most important.
She uses a layer of gauze overtop of the wound, then wraps a clean rag over that, tying it firmly. "I have some herbal painkillers, but they're slow. Catch your breath, I'll mix 'em up."
Indrani's used to supplies like that being limited. And to the defensive smokescreen of macho denials that can keep a loner alive sometimes. "Don't tap too far into your stores on my account." She's had worse, and Dogmeat licking her cheek does a lot to help. She could probably power through this without too much help, though the thought of painkillers is almost as nice as not dying of a pointless infection.
She does shift a bit, trying to find a way to lean that doesn't set off the shoulder. Too much pain for lounging, too tired to sit up. Can't win. Might as well try and learn a bit about the helpful lady with the fancy arm. "So you know what I was doing. What'd I end up chasing those slavers into? Normal patrol?" She's not even sure whose territory this is, aside from, apparently, Furiosa's, which is good news. The Green Towers is a promising name, but it doesn't mean much to her yet.
Machismo should theoretically not be necessary between two women, but Furiosa understands the need completely. "One dose at a time," she reassures her. "If you don't need more in six hours, we'll save it for someone who does."
It takes her a moment to dig through the med kit and turn up the tincture she's looking for. It's an extract from a handful of different herbs they grow in the Towers now. Tastes absolutely terrible, but it's a strongly-held belief of the Vuvalini that all useful medicine tastes godawful. Furiosa mixes a few drops with water in a tin cup, and holds it out for the other woman, keeping her hand close in case Indrani's grip is unsteady.
"Long-range patrol. We're about two days' out from the Towers. Maybe less if we were to fang it. Maybe a day from the Bullet Farm."
The Bullet Farm isn't a great waystation, though. They have minimal water and rations of their own, and the dwellings are mostly shanties set up around a giant gaping hole in the earth. "I'm curious. Were you hired to rescue those children, or did you just decide to on your own?"
Once Indrani has emptied the cup of medicine, Furiosa starts putting things away, then takes a second look at Dogmeat, considers, and pulls a shallow dish off a shelf, setting it near the animal. She pours a reasonable ration of water into it, then caps the canteen. They have plenty with them, but she needs to decide how much longer they're going to be in the desert before she starts throwing it around too generously.
Dogmeat looks grateful, or at least pleasant, in a dog-smile sort of way, and waits for it to be very clear that the drink is for him. He's used to making due and sharing short rations when he has to, and people are more likely to pet polite dogs. And give them snacks. A bit of tail-thumping seems to be in order.
Indrani does give him an absent pat once she's downed the admittedly foul-tasting stuff. Updating her very sketchy mental map doesn't take much of her attention while she decides how to answer that question. The simple answer is probably the best, if only because she can keep track of that, but you never know with... people. "Just asked to. Happened to be nearby. I take payment for non-essentials if people can pay for it, but what is the going rate, even?" She shakes her head, trying not to get too spacey even if that was part of the point of painkillers. She likes this woman so far, but she's still wary.
She shifts again, considering trying to get her jacket back on. Not a chance, probably, even if she tried just draping it over the bad shoulder, but she's feeling a bit exposed. Maybe it's just the subject matter. She's not used to being... understood.
"Good boy," Furiosa tells the dog (that's what you say to dogs, right?) and pats his head tentatively, imitating the way his master has been petting him. She hasn't seen many living animals in her life, but she has access to a lot of books, between her time in the Vault and her time as an Imperator. She's not great at faking it, but at least she's willing to try.
Her gaze swivels back to Indrani as she speaks, and she gives a thoughtful hum. That's a Road Warrior sort of answer, trustworthy in its ambiguity. "Assuming my people manage to gather the kids together...you said the settlement was about a week away. We're always looking for allies and trade partners. Do you think they'd be interested?"
She doesn't think they have enough supplies for a week out and a week back, but they could restock at the Towers and then head back out. Take the children home, preferably in the company if this woman who was trying to rescue them in the first place.
She'll wait and see what Indrani thinks about it. In the meantime, she misinterprets her motion as a sudden chill, which can happen with blood loss. She drags another blanket out from behind one of the seats and shakes the dust from it, offering it over wordlessly.
It certainly seems to please the animal. Dogmeat nuzzles her hand with familiar ease. Nice humans, attention, he knows this game.
Indrani accepts the blanket thankfully. It's not much of a barrier, but she'll take it. And it is more comfortable. "I don't live there, but you could try and find out. It's not that big a comm, but they're as friendly as anybody's gonna be." That's as much of an assessment as she wants to make for them, but she doesn't imagine a trip to find out would be wasted, especially if the stolen kids are brought back in the process.
But she does have one bit of good news. "Probably less than a week for you. The slaver caravan had a whole bunch of uncooperative bodies and lousy equipment, plus me sabotaging them. And I don't drive." And she's aware that that's like saying she doesn't breathe when she's talking to Road Warriors, but that's not what she is. She's the Lone Wanderer. And she likes her way. Same life, but she doesn't have to bother fighting over guz.
"You don't...drive?" Furiosa, predictably, looks utterly bewildered. She had assumed this woman had some kind of vehicle hidden somewhere--a motorbike, maybe, something small--and was simply not willing to reveal it to strangers. That would make sense, and she wasn't going to press.
This kind of floors her, though, and it shows. Enjoy her confusion, Indrani. She's not thrown like this very often.
"Wait. Are you saying you chased them down on foot?" It's shocking, but maybe not inconceivable in this terrain. The right shortcuts, a few clever wrenches thrown in the works...
"Didn't say that, either." She's crazy, but not that crazy. You need an escape route sometimes, something better than the hide behind a rock method. She yawns, maybe enjoying getting the chance to draw out the suspense a little. Just because the responses are always funny. "Ever seen a bike? A real bike, no motor attached, just you, the frame, and the pedals. Not a lot of them left, had to figure out a lot of the repairs on my own, but small, maneuverable, runs on me power, no one comes to start a war with me for it. Dogmeat can keep up unless I really have a reason to push, goes nearly as fast as some vehicles unless you juice 'em." The next yawn is involuntary. "Show you when I feel up to it, if you like. Got baskets and carts I can rig when I need 'em, too, though not with me. Was an emergency."
Furiosa sinks back into a sitting position and rests her elbows on her knees, bemused but attentive. She's patient, though, and just continues to stare during Indrani's yawn, neither prodding nor giving up on the information. Not like the young woman is going anywhere anytime soon, after all.
The explanation makes her thoughtful. She hasn't seen a bike, but she's seen pictures, and knows what one is. She can't imagine one would be as fast as a good engine, but definitely faster than walking or running.
Nodding slowly, she says, "That's impressive. Must be hell to run on the sand, though. I'd like to see, when you're a bit more recovered."
"You get used to it." She tries to recover herself a little, but her body's trying hard to shut down after all that. "I didn't hide it far away. Not a problem once I'm on my feet." As if she can will herself to be more or less functional again. She's never been one for accepting that bodies have limits and eventually there's no fuel left to burn, and the mechanisms are too jammed and overheated even if there were.
"So, uh, thanks." She may be a little brainless right now, but better to keep talking than just pass out. Even if she's pretty sure she said that already. Probably multiple times. It's worth it. You certainly can't count on people being as charitable as Furiosa's been, and without it, well, she's not sure she'd have crawled away in one piece this time. At the very least she'd probably have been added to that slave train, lost track of the dog at the very least, had to finagle an escape. Not a fun afternoon.
There's another place where Furiosa can relate. She's still, subtly, recovering from that punctured lung she got on the way home. Even if her muscles are back at the strength they should be, there's a bit of uncertainty in the rest of her. It drives the Sisters crazy that she refuses to acknowledge that.
Sheer will can't heal a body, maybe, but it sure as hell can keep it going for a long, long time, and Furiosa is too restless to wait patiently for all the bits of her to catch up.
In the meantime, her mind hasn't slowed down at all. Human powered machinery. Maybe no good for a long trip, but it would cut back on the need for fuel. Something the formerly-Wretched could be taught to use, to go hunting or foraging. Bikes and dogs. More ways to strengthen her people. She's starting to be very glad she decided to stop to lend this woman a hand up; sounds like they can benefit one another.
Also, you don't get thanks often in the Wasteland. It earns a smile from her. "You're welcome. And you can relax. No one's going to rob you or hurt you or Dogmeat."
She could call in a favor owed, and if Indrani tries to slip off too suddenly, she might have to, but she'd rather collaborate. Reaching out seems to yield better-lasting results than grabbing. "When my escort comes back in, we'll scrape a meal together and council. Nap if you want, 'till then. I'll watch."
"I'm going to do that, but only because so much of my blood isn't in my body." She may be inclined to trust and relax, but she probably wouldn't do it if she had a real choice in the matter right now. She does not. It's all she can do to perform a quick inventory, mostly mental, of all the guns and gear she brought with, hope her stashed stuff is as undisturbed as she was planning on, and try to find a position that's close to comfortable. Stupid bullets.
The dog comes and settles beside her, curling into an almost-tidy ball and setting its chin on its paws just-so. Its outsized ears are in fairly constant motion and its eyes don't close, but then, Dogmeat didn't get shot today. He has a little more energy to draw from.
"Some day we'll figure out a way to put it back in," she smirks. "Without the help of a donor."
They don't keep blood bags at the Citadel any longer. The handful they had that were too far gone to be released are basically wards of the Blood Shed, and spend most of their time winding bandages. If blood is needed, they'll ask for volunteers from here on out.
That's the only way they can thank the Fool for his part in their freedom, seeing as he's wandered off to parts unknown and may or may not be back ever again. It's a decent tribute, though, Furiosa thinks.
Out of sheer respect, she clambers out of the back of the vehicle to give Indrani space to relax. She stays close, watching and picking a little salvage within earshot of the truck, but leaves her alone for well over two hours. If she's a light sleeper, though, the Lone Wanderer may waken to the sound of the other engines approaching. Furiosa's escort is returning, wearied but triumphant.
"...are any of them hurt?" Furiosa's voice is audible again as she exchanges quiet conversation with her people.
"Footsore, blisters, exposure. Nothing a long rest and good food and water won't cure, by and large, but a few of them need wounds cleaned," the voice that responds is female as well, older.
"Let's camp tonight, then. Crux and Spanner can patrol a little longer, and we'll move off in the morning."
She sleeps a bit, not well or deeply, but all that could be expected. Even if she were more sure of her safety (and she almost never is that), the wound would have kept her too close to the surface for deep, healing sleep. It's still something, but not enough to keep her down when there are voices to catch her attention. Wrapping up in the borrowed blanket, she crawls on the three good-ish limbs toward the noise outside and peeks out.
Good news. And, to assuage deeper worries, she hasn't heard anything to suggest they're planning on keeping the kids themselves and finishing what the original crew of slavers started. She didn't really think it likely, but was prepared for the possibility. Less to do with hope for human nature, more to do with the fact that Furiosa didn't try to disarm her, though admittedly only one of her guns is really worth it when shooting one-handed.
"Good, was afraid something else would have snapped them up out there," she says quietly, not seeing any reason to conceal that she's more or less awake. Dogmeat sticks his head out, too, always wanting to be where the action is.
The handful of children are shell-shocked and very quiet, huddled in the shade of the smaller vehicle. They have a couple canteens among them and seem to be passing them around, recovering as best they can under harsh circumstances. One of the white-painted men is keeping an eye on them, but not getting too close. He's a big guy; doesn't want to scare them.
The woman chatting with Furiosa has grey and brown braids; she's dressed in multilayered leathers and wool. Sweltering, probably, but also plenty of layers of protection. She turns when Indrani appears, eyeing her with polite interest.
"One good thing about this part of the Wasteland being so barren. No large predators. Other than humans," Furiosa shrugs ruefully at her. "You look better. Ready to come out vertical yet?"
She's not sure whether the children will recognize their hero, but any help reassuring them is welcome. Furiosa is used to War Pups. All it takes to cheer them up is a good, gruesome story.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarken
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-27 02:09 am (UTC)"Well met. We can always use a mechanic," she says, understanding the need to bargain. Owing favors to strangers is never a good feeling. "There are some vehicles our friends left behind. Let's patch you up and then you can help us patch those engines up, and we'll go from there."
Meanwhile, they need shelter. Furiosa stands and gives a loud whistle, waving her metal arm to flag down the one vehicle of her entourage that remains behind. It's bigger than hers, essentially a truck with a cover over the back bed, and they camp in it in a pinch.
The Vuvalini driving it is the youngest still living (other than Furiosa), and once it's close as it can be, she slides out easily. The War Boy in the passenger's seat remains where he is, guarding quietly, but he's staring at Indrani with polite curiosity.
"Switch," Furiosa tells the older woman. "You and Spanner can take my car. See if you can gather the children; we can make sure they get home safe. If they won't come to you willingly, at least leave them water. This one needs stitching and shade and probably a nap."
The exchange of vehicles is efficient, over and done in the blink of an eye, but with a few friendly looks and subtle back-pats passing between all three. Not until the smaller car is speeding off does Furiosa turn back to Indrani and offer her left arm. "Let's get you into shelter. I'll help you up. Grab the metal all you need to; won't hurt me."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-27 03:39 am (UTC)In that swimmy, nonsensical way that the brain will fasten onto inconsequentials when there's too much going on (or not enough blood moving oxygen around, in this case), she finds herself staring at the arm a little. It's a mechanic's gaze, analytical and admiring, with no hint of pity or disgust. It's a pretty piece of work. She wouldn't be up to it. She nods and lets herself lean a bit on the other woman as she gets her feet back under her, not something she likes doing to friends, let alone strangers. "Right, thanks. Dogmeat, move." Not a very formal command, but it does the trick, and the dog trots along with her, looking as relieved as a canine face will allow. He lost a human before and prefers not to risk it happening again. "Ugh. Not usually stupid enough to get in the way of an idiot's bullet. Had better days."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-27 11:22 pm (UTC)Furiosa doesn't really like having her arm stared at. It is what it is, and she's not ashamed by any means, but there's always a worry that an intent look means someone visually testing for weaknesses. In this case, she's inclined to let it slide, though. If she were in this woman's position, she'd be looking for weaknesses, too, if only to reassure herself.
"Dogmeat?" she repeats, helping Indrani slowly up to and into the back of the truck. There's no tailgate, just flexible webbing stretched across the end. There are supplies inside, bound tight so they don't bounce or fly around on a fast drive, but the truck bed is padded with dust and dried chaff from the gardens.
"Heh...I hear you, but any day I live through is a good day, as far as I'm concerned."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-28 02:32 am (UTC)At the bed of the truck, she makes an effort to clamber into place on her own. It's not particularly effective, but it's the principle of the thing. It does look cool and inviting in there. Traveling more or less alone like she does it would be stupid to have digs like this, but she can't help envying the relative comfort a bit. She'll have to go find her bike soon, but she's not sure she could even ride it with this arm. When she's a little more rested.
"So about those stitches you offered?" She'd like to just collapse, but she should get the dangerous bits out if it's safely possible and close up the worst of it.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-29 03:02 am (UTC)Pelts, yes. Actual animals, no. "I might have some questions for you later, but...yes. Stitches first."
She helps Indrani into the back, as much as seems necessary and no more. She can respect her need for some semblance of dignity. Furiosa climbs up after her, though, and pushes aside the webbing in case the dog insists on joining them. There's plenty of space.
She tugs at the ties holding rolled blankets and a ratty little bag down in the bed, and sets the roll just behind Indrani's back. "Lean if you have to. Breathe deep. Ever get sewn up before?"
She's guessing she probably has. Most Road Warriors seem to tend their own wounds. She wouldn't be entirely surprised if this woman could stitch herself up, but there's no reason she has to, here and now. Furiosa can do it, and doesn't mind. "Have to get the jacket off first..."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-29 06:58 am (UTC)Ugh. That was bad. She's even a bit dizzy from that pain and awkwardness of that. Yes, she could probably stitch it up herself, if not well, but it would be nice to have another pair of hands in on it. "Might have to cut off the rest." The shirt she's wearing is patched and torn already anyway. She's not particular about it. "Just... Got anything I can bite while you get it done?"
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-29 11:44 pm (UTC)She doesn't interfere as Indrani struggles free of her jacket, but she nods in relief at the suggestion they just cut the shirt. "That'll be easier, yes. It won't help if you break your teeth...here." She reaches to undo one of her own belts, unbuckling and then folding it in thirds, then offering it out.
"Camel leather. Sorry if it tastes like road dirt." Her lips quirk in a smile that's meant to be part-sardonic, part-reassuring, and she pulls a pair of scissors out of the med kit, prepared to cut through the tattered shirt fabric before removing the scarf she's bound over the injury.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-30 01:57 am (UTC)And while there's pain in having the bloodied, stiff cloth cut away, it's clean and clarifying. The kind of pain that might mean avoiding the swelling and fever that comes of a wound healing dirty. Aside from a soft grunt and brightening eyes, she gives away nothing as the shirt and makeshift bandage come away. She's as thin and scarred as any loner out on the road, the only notable feature a few lines of dark blue ink peeking around her shoulders and sides. She makes a muffled sound of encouraging assent, only a bit strained.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-31 01:06 am (UTC)The wound is a mess, predictably, and Furiosa breaks out some clean rags and water to swab it with first. She mostly uses her left arm to brace the younger woman, trusting the dexterity of the flesh-and-blood hand more. "It's not as mangled as I was afraid of," she tells her quietly, switching to iodine. "This part's going to sting. You can grab the metal if you need to."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-08-31 03:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-01 11:54 am (UTC)Her stitching is not especially pretty. It'll probably still scar; someone with two hands and medical expertise could do better. Still, it'll keep out the dirt, and that's what's most important.
She uses a layer of gauze overtop of the wound, then wraps a clean rag over that, tying it firmly. "I have some herbal painkillers, but they're slow. Catch your breath, I'll mix 'em up."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-01 02:52 pm (UTC)She does shift a bit, trying to find a way to lean that doesn't set off the shoulder. Too much pain for lounging, too tired to sit up. Can't win. Might as well try and learn a bit about the helpful lady with the fancy arm. "So you know what I was doing. What'd I end up chasing those slavers into? Normal patrol?" She's not even sure whose territory this is, aside from, apparently, Furiosa's, which is good news. The Green Towers is a promising name, but it doesn't mean much to her yet.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-03 02:40 am (UTC)It takes her a moment to dig through the med kit and turn up the tincture she's looking for. It's an extract from a handful of different herbs they grow in the Towers now. Tastes absolutely terrible, but it's a strongly-held belief of the Vuvalini that all useful medicine tastes godawful. Furiosa mixes a few drops with water in a tin cup, and holds it out for the other woman, keeping her hand close in case Indrani's grip is unsteady.
"Long-range patrol. We're about two days' out from the Towers. Maybe less if we were to fang it. Maybe a day from the Bullet Farm."
The Bullet Farm isn't a great waystation, though. They have minimal water and rations of their own, and the dwellings are mostly shanties set up around a giant gaping hole in the earth. "I'm curious. Were you hired to rescue those children, or did you just decide to on your own?"
Once Indrani has emptied the cup of medicine, Furiosa starts putting things away, then takes a second look at Dogmeat, considers, and pulls a shallow dish off a shelf, setting it near the animal. She pours a reasonable ration of water into it, then caps the canteen. They have plenty with them, but she needs to decide how much longer they're going to be in the desert before she starts throwing it around too generously.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-03 04:08 am (UTC)Indrani does give him an absent pat once she's downed the admittedly foul-tasting stuff. Updating her very sketchy mental map doesn't take much of her attention while she decides how to answer that question. The simple answer is probably the best, if only because she can keep track of that, but you never know with... people. "Just asked to. Happened to be nearby. I take payment for non-essentials if people can pay for it, but what is the going rate, even?" She shakes her head, trying not to get too spacey even if that was part of the point of painkillers. She likes this woman so far, but she's still wary.
She shifts again, considering trying to get her jacket back on. Not a chance, probably, even if she tried just draping it over the bad shoulder, but she's feeling a bit exposed. Maybe it's just the subject matter. She's not used to being... understood.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-05 01:54 am (UTC)Her gaze swivels back to Indrani as she speaks, and she gives a thoughtful hum. That's a Road Warrior sort of answer, trustworthy in its ambiguity. "Assuming my people manage to gather the kids together...you said the settlement was about a week away. We're always looking for allies and trade partners. Do you think they'd be interested?"
She doesn't think they have enough supplies for a week out and a week back, but they could restock at the Towers and then head back out. Take the children home, preferably in the company if this woman who was trying to rescue them in the first place.
She'll wait and see what Indrani thinks about it. In the meantime, she misinterprets her motion as a sudden chill, which can happen with blood loss. She drags another blanket out from behind one of the seats and shakes the dust from it, offering it over wordlessly.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-05 02:59 pm (UTC)Indrani accepts the blanket thankfully. It's not much of a barrier, but she'll take it. And it is more comfortable. "I don't live there, but you could try and find out. It's not that big a comm, but they're as friendly as anybody's gonna be." That's as much of an assessment as she wants to make for them, but she doesn't imagine a trip to find out would be wasted, especially if the stolen kids are brought back in the process.
But she does have one bit of good news. "Probably less than a week for you. The slaver caravan had a whole bunch of uncooperative bodies and lousy equipment, plus me sabotaging them. And I don't drive." And she's aware that that's like saying she doesn't breathe when she's talking to Road Warriors, but that's not what she is. She's the Lone Wanderer. And she likes her way. Same life, but she doesn't have to bother fighting over guz.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-06 02:35 am (UTC)This kind of floors her, though, and it shows. Enjoy her confusion, Indrani. She's not thrown like this very often.
"Wait. Are you saying you chased them down on foot?" It's shocking, but maybe not inconceivable in this terrain. The right shortcuts, a few clever wrenches thrown in the works...
She sits back on her heels and just stares.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-06 03:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-07 03:02 am (UTC)The explanation makes her thoughtful. She hasn't seen a bike, but she's seen pictures, and knows what one is. She can't imagine one would be as fast as a good engine, but definitely faster than walking or running.
Nodding slowly, she says, "That's impressive. Must be hell to run on the sand, though. I'd like to see, when you're a bit more recovered."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-08 02:13 am (UTC)"So, uh, thanks." She may be a little brainless right now, but better to keep talking than just pass out. Even if she's pretty sure she said that already. Probably multiple times. It's worth it. You certainly can't count on people being as charitable as Furiosa's been, and without it, well, she's not sure she'd have crawled away in one piece this time. At the very least she'd probably have been added to that slave train, lost track of the dog at the very least, had to finagle an escape. Not a fun afternoon.
((Sorry for the lag; I went on a trip))
Date: 2015-09-13 05:34 pm (UTC)Sheer will can't heal a body, maybe, but it sure as hell can keep it going for a long, long time, and Furiosa is too restless to wait patiently for all the bits of her to catch up.
In the meantime, her mind hasn't slowed down at all. Human powered machinery. Maybe no good for a long trip, but it would cut back on the need for fuel. Something the formerly-Wretched could be taught to use, to go hunting or foraging. Bikes and dogs. More ways to strengthen her people. She's starting to be very glad she decided to stop to lend this woman a hand up; sounds like they can benefit one another.
Also, you don't get thanks often in the Wasteland. It earns a smile from her. "You're welcome. And you can relax. No one's going to rob you or hurt you or Dogmeat."
She could call in a favor owed, and if Indrani tries to slip off too suddenly, she might have to, but she'd rather collaborate. Reaching out seems to yield better-lasting results than grabbing. "When my escort comes back in, we'll scrape a meal together and council. Nap if you want, 'till then. I'll watch."
No worries, I've got classes again so I'm back to busy anyway
Date: 2015-09-15 04:07 am (UTC)The dog comes and settles beside her, curling into an almost-tidy ball and setting its chin on its paws just-so. Its outsized ears are in fairly constant motion and its eyes don't close, but then, Dogmeat didn't get shot today. He has a little more energy to draw from.
Ah, Autumn! ;)
Date: 2015-09-17 11:43 am (UTC)They don't keep blood bags at the Citadel any longer. The handful they had that were too far gone to be released are basically wards of the Blood Shed, and spend most of their time winding bandages. If blood is needed, they'll ask for volunteers from here on out.
That's the only way they can thank the Fool for his part in their freedom, seeing as he's wandered off to parts unknown and may or may not be back ever again. It's a decent tribute, though, Furiosa thinks.
Out of sheer respect, she clambers out of the back of the vehicle to give Indrani space to relax. She stays close, watching and picking a little salvage within earshot of the truck, but leaves her alone for well over two hours. If she's a light sleeper, though, the Lone Wanderer may waken to the sound of the other engines approaching. Furiosa's escort is returning, wearied but triumphant.
"...are any of them hurt?" Furiosa's voice is audible again as she exchanges quiet conversation with her people.
"Footsore, blisters, exposure. Nothing a long rest and good food and water won't cure, by and large, but a few of them need wounds cleaned," the voice that responds is female as well, older.
"Let's camp tonight, then. Crux and Spanner can patrol a little longer, and we'll move off in the morning."
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-21 03:16 am (UTC)Good news. And, to assuage deeper worries, she hasn't heard anything to suggest they're planning on keeping the kids themselves and finishing what the original crew of slavers started. She didn't really think it likely, but was prepared for the possibility. Less to do with hope for human nature, more to do with the fact that Furiosa didn't try to disarm her, though admittedly only one of her guns is really worth it when shooting one-handed.
"Good, was afraid something else would have snapped them up out there," she says quietly, not seeing any reason to conceal that she's more or less awake. Dogmeat sticks his head out, too, always wanting to be where the action is.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-09-28 03:06 am (UTC)The woman chatting with Furiosa has grey and brown braids; she's dressed in multilayered leathers and wool. Sweltering, probably, but also plenty of layers of protection. She turns when Indrani appears, eyeing her with polite interest.
"One good thing about this part of the Wasteland being so barren. No large predators. Other than humans," Furiosa shrugs ruefully at her. "You look better. Ready to come out vertical yet?"
She's not sure whether the children will recognize their hero, but any help reassuring them is welcome. Furiosa is used to War Pups. All it takes to cheer them up is a good, gruesome story.