GOATS

[blackgoat]

"Do you have children?"

The voice seemed to come before the lady, as if the question summoned her, rather than was actually spoken.

Small, demure in appearance, lovely in a way that quickly extended itself into the realm of disquieting. She seemed doll like, unliving and not quite made of flesh.

Little hands resting on a heavily pregnant belly, the woman draped in heavy Victorian dresses of stone grays, off whites and dull sky blues, with that porcelain skin and wild snow white hair, she'd almost look like she was trying to blend into the snow.

"If you do not, do you want them?"

Ah, so it was her speaking, the voice soft and sweet, if... off, in an odd way. A tone that crept up the spine and settled into the neck and base of the skull, like cold fingers pressed against the nape.

Comments

[eumenis]

"Yes." Her caution is eroding. This is the kind of doctrine her own Mothers taught. Life and death springing from and returning to the same womb, and the Sisters haven't quite adapted the same worldview. She can't blame them; they're practical, and they're kind. But she was raised with the tacit acknowledgement of a power they don't really comprehend, even as they possess it, and even if it was brutally torn from her under Joe's regime, she remembers.

The strange woman's words speak to something almost primal in her.

"I can get you those. How fresh? Do you mean hot from the oven, or still bleeding out?"

Personally, she prefers to eat meat cooked, but it wouldn't shock her if this being wanted something newly-butchered and raw.

[blackgoat]

"Yes. As it was always intended to be, to be a mother is to be above all. Your mates should plead for your grace and attention." Humanity was so odd, that way. It made no sense to have it the other way around, something she'd never understand, nor did she want to.

"Newly slaughtered, its juice should be indistinguishable from the wine." She had preferences, you see.

CW: dead fuzzy thing

[eumenis]

"We used to have celebrations, when traders came through. If a woman wanted a baby, she'd choose a man, and he'd be grateful to be chosen." And the rest of the time they stayed out of the way. Furiosa enjoys the friendship and camaraderie of the War Boys and Blackthumbs at the Citadel for the most part, but...sometimes they're a bit much.

She's feeling all nostalgic now.

Nodding her understanding, she gives the stranger a Vuvalini salute, hand clasping the air and pulling it to her center chest. "I'll be back shortly."

She walks away, going to buy a bottle of wine, first, and then making a quick trip to the Wilds. She'll be away for long enough for Shub Niggurath to have a few other conversations, most likely, but what she brings back appears to be at least distantly related to rabbits (and not a Pokemon). It's roundish and its coat is winter-white, ears like a hare's, but with little cloven hooves instead of paws. Furiosa has wrapped its throat and head in rags so not too much of the blood lost from the cut throat escapes to the ground.

She sets the wine bottle in the snow by the stranger's feet and hefts the animal carefully. It's still warm. "I could skin and butcher it, but I didn't know if you wanted it that way or not."

She sounds completely indifferent, either way. She's already hunted with the Indoraptor; dead animals don't bother her, and this already feels more like an altar-offering than a meal being presented anyway, so she's braced for strangeness. Or thinks she is.

CW: gore and guts

[blackgoat]

"But this has changed." What sort of disaster caused that blasphemy to happen? Perhaps she ought to pay this reality a visit, the idea was offensive to her.

Not enough perhaps to goad any immediate response but... it was still an idle consideration. She'd wait for her to come back, plenty of time to chat with other people or, more likely, unnerve a lot of people and ensure she'd be entirely alone by the time Furiosa came back.

Whatever beast Furiosa returned with, she spent very little time examining it, simply reaching for the bundle and the drink.

"It is fine, the way it is."

A human woman would think twice perhaps, about eating raw meat and drinking wine while so heavily pregnant, but well... Godspawn didn't follow the same biological rules. Whatever was gestating inside of her would hardly be negatively effected by it's mothers meals. Probably quite the contrary.

Once given the dead little beast, what still looked like normal, blunted, delicate little human nails would easily slice the belly open. Bone white hands drawing out ropes of entrails, the heart, the lungs and stomach.

Offal first, it was after all so rich with nutrients. The effortless way she cracked the animal's skull seemed more reminiscent of the smashing of a sparrow's egg, with how simple it was to her, spooning out the brain with her hand as this too was devoured with calm, measured care.

All inter-spaced with occasional, dainty, direct sips from the bottle, the blood nearly indistinguishable from the wine within it.

[eumenis]

Furiosa opts to wait on answering that question until she returns from the hunt. She relinquishes the meat and drink without hesitation, and only a warning murmur of, "My shot hit it in the throat. I think I got the shrapnel out, but don't bite down on the neck or head too hard unless you don't care about the metal."

Which is possible. In any case, there's probably no more than a fragment or two in there, if that, but Furiosa isn't quite a brilliant enough huntress to just pluck this kind of creature off the ground and snap its neck. Lizards and snakes, yes. Running mammals, no.

She steps back a little when the strange Mother rips the belly of the animal open so easily. It's alarming, but Furiosa looks less like she's shocked and more like she just doesn't want to get the blood spray on her own clothing. She doesn't blink or flinch at the gory feast, only watches with a curious tilt to her head. It's not the first time she's seen someone just rip into a raw carcass, and given where she comes from, she's seen people eating other humans, and so...it's an unpleasant sight, but not horrific to her. Just a hell of a messy meal, really.

Actually, she's halfway waiting to see if the whole thing, skin and bones and all, will be consumed.

Hailing back to the earlier question, she says, "We were attacked by raiders when I was little. My tribe. My mother and I were stolen, and she didn't survive for long. And so I didn't hear about my family's doings for a long time. It was less the attacks that caused the problem than the land dying around them. With no Green to hide in, no crops growing, their way of life had to change. And now it's only me that's left, and two others. For now."

[blackgoat]

She'd find that shrapnel easily enough, though at least not with her teeth, not that it would have harmed her. What little there was, was easily plucked out and dropped to the ground, soaked with blood, as she carefully disassembled the animal and devoured it.

Until it was indeed, gone in its entirety. Even the bones devoured, snapping between her teeth like carrot sticks.

She listened, as she ate, ever attentive to the story and the image being woven here. "Your world is dying." That was what it sounded like, in any case. First went the plants, then went the food, and soon the sentient life would follow it all, but not before throwing themselves into desperate madness. A story she'd seen before, watch played out before her a thousand times and a thousand times again.

"And with it, dies the old ways, until your kind destroys themselves entirely. Am I correct?"

[eumenis]

It's funny, Furiosa blends easily enough into the ranks of the Nexus. She's reserved enough that it's very rare for anything that offends the sensibilities of those from wealthier worlds to escape her lips. For all that, though, she comes from a place of violence, predation, madness, and deprivation, and what might make a "normal" Nexus denizen cower or run or vomit simply strikes her as interesting.

Bones and all! No waste. She approves, not that this being cares about her approval.

"If we can't stop the dying, you're correct." Furiosa can't ignore the possibility that everything they've built since Joe's death is doomed. She's too practical. But she's also stubborn as fuck, and she'll keep trying until her last breath leaves her body.

"We have a place to rebuild from, over a huge aquifer. We're doing well in our little corner of the Wasteland. Plants are spreading, we have clean water, some animals. Everyone eats, and sickness is dwindling. Technology from the Nexus helps a lot. But it's possible we'll just be the last ones standing, on the last oasis on the planet until it gives out, too. I hope not. But I can't know for sure."

"And until I know, I'm going to keep fighting."