Enter the (Ex-)Imperator.

[eumenis]

There's a woman at the edge of the Parklands, knee-deep in grass. She looks like a soldier, one arm a metal prosthetic, a skull-shaped brand marking the nape of her neck, a machete in a sheath at her hip, and possibly other weapons hidden on her person. She's dirty, stained with dust and oil, and tension sings along the lines of her back and shoulders. Like she's waiting to be attacked.

At the same time, though, there's a distinctly misty look in her eyes as she stares out over the field before her. Flowers. Insects. Streams and lakes. Maybe she's hallucinating. Maybe she's dead.

She has one question, though, because beauty is so often a trap: "Is this water safe?"

Comments

[eumenis]

Furiosa moves around the bug gently, picking a few more berries carefully so as not to disturb it. How much animal life has died out on her world, she wonders? Would it be worth it to reintroduce something like this little creature, or would the radiation just kill it?

These are questions she can't find out alone. She's going to need help from home, for certain.

"We used to have bees. I haven't seen them in a long time. There are still flower flies here and there, but we do our pollination by hand, mostly."

[bitterguardian]

If anything would survive the radiation, it's bugs. They must have some nightmarish roaches, somewhere. Or possibly Weta bugs. Just one of those could practically be a whole meal.

"That's a shame. If it's a problem, though, I'm sure you could find somebody more expert on the matter. I'm afraid I've gotten lazy, myself, and the world I live in allows it." He gives her a wry little smile, almost apologetic. There was a time people in his own world lived much closer to the sources of their food, and had to work for it, and the change was gradual but the contrast is astonishing when he bothers to think about it.