"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.
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sarken
(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.