Is that like believing six impossible things before breakfast? She might be running behind.
Speaking of impossible things, she has a hard time understanding how this place could remain unlocked, unplundered, and so clean within. Even with the Immortan's sigil as a warning on the door, she's impressed no one has dared to take shelter within during storms or on cold desert nights. Or at least, if they have, they never left any debris, nor, as far as she can tell in dim light, the sign of scorch marks from fires.
It makes her wonder whether the fear of Immortan Joe was the only thing keeping people away, or if they might also have feared whatever is locked within. When she sees the door move, visibly unlocked and accessible, she actually hesitates. She's long been known for boldness, but might it be just a little too reckless to investigate without backup from her men?
What changes her mind is the sound of the voice calling from within, because that means there's a person there, possibly a prisoner, and if there's no one attending him since the coup...well, dying of thirst or hunger is an ugly way to go. Frowning, she pushes through the door, ready to draw her gun if need be.
"No, that's not my name," she says by way of introduction, and then freezes.
Glowing is bad. Glowing is all too often an indication of radioactivity in the Wasteland, or some other kind of toxicity. Nuclear poison is one death strength and tenacity can't contend with, she knows, and for a moment she's tempted to simply leave. Except he's chained, and whether he's a human or not, he seems to be a person, and evidently a former prisoner of Joe's. We are not things.
She looks him up and down, steps a little closer, and pauses well out of arm's reach. "You're...unexpected."
Which is her terse way of wondering what in the name of V8 are you?
no subject
Speaking of impossible things, she has a hard time understanding how this place could remain unlocked, unplundered, and so clean within. Even with the Immortan's sigil as a warning on the door, she's impressed no one has dared to take shelter within during storms or on cold desert nights. Or at least, if they have, they never left any debris, nor, as far as she can tell in dim light, the sign of scorch marks from fires.
It makes her wonder whether the fear of Immortan Joe was the only thing keeping people away, or if they might also have feared whatever is locked within. When she sees the door move, visibly unlocked and accessible, she actually hesitates. She's long been known for boldness, but might it be just a little too reckless to investigate without backup from her men?
What changes her mind is the sound of the voice calling from within, because that means there's a person there, possibly a prisoner, and if there's no one attending him since the coup...well, dying of thirst or hunger is an ugly way to go. Frowning, she pushes through the door, ready to draw her gun if need be.
"No, that's not my name," she says by way of introduction, and then freezes.
Glowing is bad. Glowing is all too often an indication of radioactivity in the Wasteland, or some other kind of toxicity. Nuclear poison is one death strength and tenacity can't contend with, she knows, and for a moment she's tempted to simply leave. Except he's chained, and whether he's a human or not, he seems to be a person, and evidently a former prisoner of Joe's. We are not things.
She looks him up and down, steps a little closer, and pauses well out of arm's reach. "You're...unexpected."
Which is her terse way of wondering what in the name of V8 are you?