[ Some of these things she knows, but Furiosa finds herself not wanting to interrupt. She'd have little patience for redundancies back home, but here? She's happy to have Max's read on the situation to, head bobbing in agreement as they move through the city.
(They still are inexplicably tied together. After a year of his lost freedom, she can't say she minds the idea of being able to follow a path back to him wherever he wanders to either.)
Furiosa can't be positive, but she's pretty sure Max has doubled the total words spoken in the entire time she's known him. He's still not a big talker, but that's fine. Men like Joe and Dementus sometimes spoke so uselessly, as if only to hear themselves as a testament to their own grandeur. Max speaks only when he has something worth saying, which usually means it's something worth listening to.
It's cold. Colder than the chilliest nights she's used to, but the air is fresh and free from the persistent smell of noxious fumes and guzzoline. The air is quiet without the roar of engines or the chaos of roadwar. It's almost too much, the evergreens and signs of spring, new life growing wild and uncontained when the only green thing she's seen in a lifetime is the carefully guarded hydroponics. Just another part of Joe's domain, nothing like the lush, verdant tropics of the Green Place.
It is awe inspiring and breath stealing, Furiosa feeling suddenly so overcome with emotions she can't name them all. Awe and joy, that a place like this exists. Grief and homesickness, that this green place is not her Green Place.
If the strange masters of this place had plucked her away sooner, would she have been able to save it as well?
Furiosa is only half listening, her reaction to Max's offer slightly delayed as she senses him near her side again. She takes the apple, eyes closing as she takes an enthusiastic bite, savoring it and chewing greedily without regard to the way juice runs down the side of her chin. She of course has wastelander manners, not wasting one bit of it, corralling it back to her lips with the side of her hand.
She offers it wordlessly back to Max for his turn. She wouldn't be so greedy as to take a whole apple all to herself.
Only here in the privacy of the forest, does she allow herself to broach the subject again. ]
no subject
(They still are inexplicably tied together. After a year of his lost freedom, she can't say she minds the idea of being able to follow a path back to him wherever he wanders to either.)
Furiosa can't be positive, but she's pretty sure Max has doubled the total words spoken in the entire time she's known him. He's still not a big talker, but that's fine. Men like Joe and Dementus sometimes spoke so uselessly, as if only to hear themselves as a testament to their own grandeur. Max speaks only when he has something worth saying, which usually means it's something worth listening to.
It's cold. Colder than the chilliest nights she's used to, but the air is fresh and free from the persistent smell of noxious fumes and guzzoline. The air is quiet without the roar of engines or the chaos of roadwar. It's almost too much, the evergreens and signs of spring, new life growing wild and uncontained when the only green thing she's seen in a lifetime is the carefully guarded hydroponics. Just another part of Joe's domain, nothing like the lush, verdant tropics of the Green Place.
It is awe inspiring and breath stealing, Furiosa feeling suddenly so overcome with emotions she can't name them all. Awe and joy, that a place like this exists. Grief and homesickness, that this green place is not her Green Place.
If the strange masters of this place had plucked her away sooner, would she have been able to save it as well?
Furiosa is only half listening, her reaction to Max's offer slightly delayed as she senses him near her side again. She takes the apple, eyes closing as she takes an enthusiastic bite, savoring it and chewing greedily without regard to the way juice runs down the side of her chin. She of course has wastelander manners, not wasting one bit of it, corralling it back to her lips with the side of her hand.
She offers it wordlessly back to Max for his turn. She wouldn't be so greedy as to take a whole apple all to herself.
Only here in the privacy of the forest, does she allow herself to broach the subject again. ]
Was itโ here?
[ His year of lost freedom. ]