[ There's a pattern to when the newcomers arrive. Furiosa had casually charted it against the phases of the moon, but that's disappeared with the constant sunlight. It's really coincidence that she's made an overnight trip to Milton this day in search of nails and wood screws to make progress on repairing her house that was significantly damaged in the earthquake.

She dries her socks and boot by the fire while she helps herself to a generous pour of tea from the thermos. Strangely, she hasn't been truly hungry in months. ]

I prefer that one. A clean and bright taste to help stay alert. Almost cooling despite the fact that it's warm.

[ She means minty, but the specific flavors got lost long ago in the apocalypse. ]

[ Each tremor of the earth sends her further on edge. Usually so unshakable, the rumble of the ground beneath her shouldn't unnerve her, but their house is still half crumbled and progress is slow.

And to make it worse, the fissures spew out vapors in thick blankets.

Usually she's content to offer only a cool and stoic look, a weapon and her expression a suitable deterrent for anyone she wants to scare off. Apparently that isn't satisfying her now, though. Max usually handles splitting firewood (much easier to manage that chore with two hands), but Furiosa has recently co-opted the axe. Anyone unwise enough to cross her in the woods gets the brunt of a particular brutal threat as she smacks the axe into a thick tree trunk with a sickening thwack. ]

Get the fuck out of here.

[ hit me with something else! dm me or hit me up on plurk beehaw ]