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An even exchange. (for smartass_captain)
It's a rare overcast day at the Green Towers, when Furiosa brings Jim from the Nexus with her to visit. Normally the sky is a ruthless, clear teal, except when storms rage through. Today it's a soft, leaden grey that makes the sand look a deeper gold than usual. The Wasteland is not without beauty, even now.
Chrome sky, shiny day! The war boys are shouting the adage to one another as she leads the way through the tunnel that takes her to and from the Nexus. It opens out into a garage, which has a wide bay door through which the dubious glory of the desert shows. Furiosa is quick to beckon him to look, although they end up passing a couple groups of blackthumbs working on engines to do so. The men and women look up as they pass, visibly curious but too polite to question. Furiosa doesn't bring many visitors, but she does tend to wander with inexplicable companions now and then. Her feral Fool, for one. Jim looks much more put-together, and alarmingly clean, and there will no doubt be rumors, but her people trust her judgment. Especially the ones she works alongside most closely.
"All right," she says, by way of introduction. "If you look around the crag there, you can see where the groundlings are working on shelters, and the rows of grasses we've put in. When Immortan Joe ran the place, they were called the Wretched...but we're trying to change that."
Chrome sky, shiny day! The war boys are shouting the adage to one another as she leads the way through the tunnel that takes her to and from the Nexus. It opens out into a garage, which has a wide bay door through which the dubious glory of the desert shows. Furiosa is quick to beckon him to look, although they end up passing a couple groups of blackthumbs working on engines to do so. The men and women look up as they pass, visibly curious but too polite to question. Furiosa doesn't bring many visitors, but she does tend to wander with inexplicable companions now and then. Her feral Fool, for one. Jim looks much more put-together, and alarmingly clean, and there will no doubt be rumors, but her people trust her judgment. Especially the ones she works alongside most closely.
"All right," she says, by way of introduction. "If you look around the crag there, you can see where the groundlings are working on shelters, and the rows of grasses we've put in. When Immortan Joe ran the place, they were called the Wretched...but we're trying to change that."
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"I will never forget that, as long as I live. That they backed us when they could have turned on us and we'd have been too worn out to resist. These are my people."
It's a strangely sentimental statement, almost maternal. She shakes her head and looks over at him, then. "Rain? Every six months or so we get a spattering, but it's not much. Heavy dew more often, maybe a couple times a week, but not nightly. The dew is never poison, but sometimes rain is acid or radioactive."
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Jim can't help but to smile at her description. It reminds him of the first time his crew put their trust in him, gave him their support even as the world was going to hell around them.
"They sound like a strong folk." They'd have to be to make it out in a place like this. Jim pulls out a crisp new book from under his cloak and begins flipping through it. "The dew will definitely help then...Weirdly enough you'll probably have to cover up the collector arrays for your moisture farms when it rains, if the rain's no good for drinking. That's kind of a pain, shit."