Furiosa has been known to fall in a kind of maternal love with children, on occasion. In the Nexus, she doesn't always get to see the little ones she tries to take under her wing again. She feels she's been lucky with Kippa, getting to see her now and again. There have been others she's tried to embrace who vanished back to their own worlds--and that's a good thing, at least she can hope it is, but it's a little bittersweet, too.
This girl, though. No matter how competent and strong she is, she will do better with company, backup and care than she would alone. Furiosa sees something of herself in the fierce child, and something of Valkyrie, and more than that, she sees someone who comes from a harsh enough world that coming to the Wasteland might not be a downgrade. At least they don't have fucking undead giants and dragons.
"Surprise, no, but battle-fatigue happens even to the bravest and most ruthless," she says with a smile.
"I'm not quite sure what your age is, at a glance, but I think I was about there when I started riding with the War Boys, learning how to throw a lance, new ways to fight. I could shoot before that, and fix engines, and tussle like an angry cat, but I remember being tested against boys my own age, and learning quick that the biggest ones had the most trouble facing off against me."
"I heard you laid Rictus out twice," Crux says with a smirk.
"...well. That was later on." Furiosa looks sheepishly pleased. "And he was unarmed. Ask me later. Anyway, I'm on the tall side now, but small people need to learn they can take out enemies twice their size if they're smart, and big people need to learn not to underestimate small ones."
"And all of us could use some instruction with swords, if I'm being honest. Me included. Most of our fighting has been done from vehicles up until now, but that doesn't mean it always will be." She can fake it with a sword, swing and guard with it like any large object, like she did with the boltcutters way back when. That doesn't mean it's elegant, or that she couldn't improve.
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This girl, though. No matter how competent and strong she is, she will do better with company, backup and care than she would alone. Furiosa sees something of herself in the fierce child, and something of Valkyrie, and more than that, she sees someone who comes from a harsh enough world that coming to the Wasteland might not be a downgrade. At least they don't have fucking undead giants and dragons.
"Surprise, no, but battle-fatigue happens even to the bravest and most ruthless," she says with a smile.
"I'm not quite sure what your age is, at a glance, but I think I was about there when I started riding with the War Boys, learning how to throw a lance, new ways to fight. I could shoot before that, and fix engines, and tussle like an angry cat, but I remember being tested against boys my own age, and learning quick that the biggest ones had the most trouble facing off against me."
"I heard you laid Rictus out twice," Crux says with a smirk.
"...well. That was later on." Furiosa looks sheepishly pleased. "And he was unarmed. Ask me later. Anyway, I'm on the tall side now, but small people need to learn they can take out enemies twice their size if they're smart, and big people need to learn not to underestimate small ones."
"And all of us could use some instruction with swords, if I'm being honest. Me included. Most of our fighting has been done from vehicles up until now, but that doesn't mean it always will be." She can fake it with a sword, swing and guard with it like any large object, like she did with the boltcutters way back when. That doesn't mean it's elegant, or that she couldn't improve.