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

[bitterguardian]

"Quite safe, although I'd be cautious accepting any food that's handed out, here. It can have... complicated consequences." The man who has paused to reply is a large figure, both tall and heavyset, and dressed in a manner that's probably unfamiliar to her. The clothes aren't impractical, but the vest is slightly rich fabric, and there's signs it's just slightly threadbare but also very clean and too soft to be protection against any but the mildest elements. He's clean and well-groomed, with a neatly trimmed beard, and there are jeweled rings on nearly each and every finger. He's also leaning on a sleek black cane with a silver handle, but it's hard to say yet if it's an elegant crutch or just for show.

Maybe the most striking thing about him is the gentleness of his expression, not pitying or condescending, but mildly concerned.

[onemorebounty]

Most things are safe, here.

*The words come from a tall woman, blond, with sharp blue eyes and some kind of jumpsuit that covers her from the neck down like a second skin. She moves like a lioness at the stalk, and stops well out of weapon's reach of the other woman. The stance she chooses is straight-on, presenting a wide target, with no effort made to defend herself--at odds with her physique, the subtle hints of body language that bespeak concealed weapons, and the way she sizes Furiosa up with a warrior's eye.*

No one here can hurt you, unless you try to hurt them first, or consciously choose to let them. Welcome to the Nexus.

[ixis]

This Overlander looks remarkably more like what he would expect from them. War-ready, mechanical prosthetics, armed. He's not afraid of her, heavens no, he's not afraid of anything or anyone! But Naugus keeps a respectable distance, as well as a defensive crouch. The fingers on his staff drum and adjust their grip often.

"Why would it not be?"