The Post-Apocalyptic Doughnut Thief

[ablacksun]

Nothing in Antillioch is clean. Or tidy. Or not covered in a thick layer of desert. Which is why the appearance of a pristine white door that may well lead to some spiffed-up futuristic hospital ward is something of a shock to Zack. There follows a brief consultation with his brother, who doesn't seem to want anything to do with it, as it's so ..spotless, and white, and... ewww. For the two hellgods it's completely out of place and worse. They're so attuned to their hell dimension that anything this hygienic sits in the craw like a stuck fishbone.

Abe, casually examining his fingernails, suggests Zack tries the handle, just, you know, to see if it's locked. We don't want anything pleasant coming in. Stupidly, Zack's curiosity wins over and he does actually open the door a crack... Abe swiftly shoves him straight though it, and the Apocalyptic prince is sent sprawling. He literally faceplants into this new, uncomfortably pure environment.

He's ended up on the main plaza, and lifts his head, not liking anything he sees. But that's Zack all over. He doesn't like anything much. He even snarls at the few unfortunate people closest to him.

Nothing about the Nexus feels comfortable to Zack. Not until he smells something drifting across the plaza. He follows the scent until he comes to a doughnut stand.

Zack is the embodiment of the post-apocalyptic hellscape. He's on nodding terms with all four horsemen, and his own essence combines War, Famine, Pestilence and Death.. or more accurately the after-effects of such things. Away from his own dimension, he feels the hunger of famine, and Zack hasn't actually ingested anything for centuries.

Now he's in the realm of the living, these soft little dough things smell amazing.

He grabs one and tears into it, ignoring the stallholders protests about something like paying, or money, or something. When the stallholder tries to physically take his arm, Zack pulls away, swipes another of the sweet dough shapes, and wrenches himself away from the stand. Zack moves through the crowds away from the still-shouting stalholder, almost bumping into everyone - he's not used to crowds.

And he doesn't understand the concept of theft.

He almost sends some poor person tumbling as he tries to make his exit. But he can't find the infernal door and that stupid sweet-dough-thing person is still on his tail. Zack grabs the nearest passerby by the lapel, demanding... “What's his fucking problem? What the fuck's money? What does that even mean?”


[ooc: Cue argument between your muse, Zack, and the doughnut seller. Mun apologises for his language and behaviour. He's not housebroken yet...]

Comments

[ablacksun]

Children are indeed precious. Zack gets that much. He's seen adults throw themselves protectively across the bodies of their children in earthquakes; enter burning buildings to pull them to safety. He doesn't see the point himself in prolonging their lives and therefore their terror; it seems crueller than accepting the inevitable.

He's fairly neutral in some ways, and finds himself enjoying the way she puts the dough-shapes seller in his place. Mortals are meant for tormenting. They’re capable of such destruction. The ones born after a world has all but died however - in some regards they're blameless, and Zack has seen enough to be able to almost admire their tenacity.

As for the insects he's summoned, Zack has little concept of humiliation or embarrassment. When one is created to bear the pain of countless dying planets, a little social faux pas doesn't even register. Things either work, or they don’t.

It strikes him as odd, too, that she refers to him as 'not one of hers'... she's so clearly one of his.

Having only occasionally glimpsed ladybugs before, Zack watches intently, fascinated by the blood-red wing casings. Then he looks at his hand, it only now dawning on him that something here is blocking his abilities. The woman's explanation of the matter however, makes sense enough.

“That's annoying,” he growls. “How do you stand it?”

The vendor sheepishly thanks her for the payment and wanders back to his stand, and his offspring.

[eumenis]

The answer there, perhaps, is that 'inevitable' is a word that most humans know the definition of academically, but refuse to internalize. Not that Furiosa would phrase it that way, were he to mention his thoughts. She'd probably just quote Max: Hope is a mistake; if you can't fix what's broken, you'll go crazy. But then he came with them and they pulled hope out of Immortan Joe's broken, bleeding jaws. Maybe the world is too insane to be predictable. Maybe inevitability is a subtle thing.

Once the vendor leaves, Furiosa puts the handful of leftover coins away and holds out her metal fingers as if hoping one of the ladybugs will land on them. She knows they're not for eating because they're bright red, and anyway there's such abundance in the Nexus she doesn't eat bugs here, but she's mostly only seen these in pictures. "At least they're predators," she tells him with a faint smirk. "I've seen them in books. They eat other bugs. Doubt we have any left where I'm from."

She shrugs at the question. "You adapt. Learn to keep your temper or take it out in a way that's not violent. Maybe I'm getting old, too, a little bit. I'm tired of starting fights, but I'll keep finishing them until they finish me."

"You seriously hungry or did you just want a taste of what he had?" If it's the former, she can share, but if it was just the novelty of fried dough in front of him--well, she can relate but she's not here to treat a stranger to new experiences.

[ablacksun]

This one has a lot to learn about humans and other mortal races. Not that Zack would accept death easily, either. He just expects the lesser beings to conform to his expectations. They're an infestation to be eradicated. They couldn't possibly have hope, tenacity, or sheer bloody-mindedness.

Which is why this female seems so fascinating. Especially her resolve to keep fighting.

With the little power he has, Zack has summoned several of the bugs onto his fingers. He examines them as she speaks.

“Is the arm good?” he asks bluntly but without judgement, indicating her robotic-looking limb; “for fighting?”

As a supernatural entity, Zack can't be poisoned, so just as the woman asks about the nature of his hunger; Zack's decided the bugs are for eating. He shoves a couple into his mouth, nodding. They don't taste good, expectedly compared to the pastry, but it's all food to him.

“I'm always seriously hungry away from home.”

[eumenis]

Admittedly, in the Wasteland you wonder what you're fighting for. What the point is, aside from lasting out another day. As far as Furiosa can tell, it's the nature of living things to want to keep living, and humans are no exception. But there are those around her who have softer, loftier ideas about community and kindness and the future. Sometimes she thinks they're the crazy ones and sometimes she thinks she is. Most of the time, the two types of crazy balance out into something functional.

She raises an eyebrow at the blunt question, but honestly she prefers straightforwardness regarding her arm overall, and he didn't ask how she lost it, which is a point in his favor. "It has strengths and drawbacks. It's heavy, so it makes a good club but it'll strain my shoulder if I let it. The claws scare the shit out of people but they're more for gripping a steering wheel than shredding anyone. Had to learn to fight with and without it. In the end it's better for intimidation tactics and without is better to actually beat someone down."

She grimaces slightly when he eats the bug, but there's amusement in it. "Usually if they're bright colors, they taste terrible. If you throw up, just don't throw up on me. I'd have rather eaten the cockroaches, except depending what they've gotten into they can be just as bad-tasting."

Grasshoppers are best. And mealworms, and witchetty grubs.

Giving him a little nod, she turns and heads down the street away from the vendors, at an easy pace. "Come with me; we can spare some rations, and we always have water. We set up a waystation at the edge of the Plaza, mostly to fix our own vehicles and save a cache of food in case of problems here. It's normally like this in the Nexus. Pretty calm, more people than not well-fed and content. But a couple years ago there was a harsh winter storm. I'm not getting caught out like that again."

[ablacksun]

Rudely, alas - apologies, Furi - Zack doesn't care how she lost it. She might have cut it off herself for all he cares. He's only interested in the now of it, and how things work for her. It's also a fact of her existence, and for him, to ignore her physical appearance is more ill-mannered than accepting and discussing it.

“I don't puke, unless I want to.” And why would he want to? It only now occurs to Zack that she might think he's mortal. Ordinarily, he'd be enraged, but just a few minutes spent with someone who seems - incredibly sensible, actually - means he'll just correct her in a non-aggressive way. “I'm not put together like you.”

At the promise of food, he's content to follow her. “There are storms?” That interests him. “That's good. That's natural. The way it should be. Everything else here feels synthetic.”

It's the longest word he's used, and hints at intelligence, despite the obvious lack of social graces.

[eumenis]

There was a time she had to beat down War Boys if they asked impertinent questions. Had to be ruthless, vicious, and unpredictable to keep her place in the hierarchy. She wouldn't be where she is today if she hadn't learned not to give an inch lest someone take a mile from her. But now, she's the de facto queen-among-queens of the Citadel, and she can afford to be gentler, and slower to take offense. In any case, this person's fundamental practicality seems appropriate to her, even if she didn't appreciate being grabbed at first introduction.

She's reserving judgment, as far as what he is. Normal humans obviously don't summon bugs out of the air, but in the Nexus that could mean he's a spirit, a shapeshifter, a sorcerer, a demon, a god...or something else she's never heard of. She nods when he explains, though. "Picked up on that, but I'm not sure what you are. There are all sorts here, not just humans. Even the humans tend to be a little different."

Listen, she's had Thor over to her home to visit many times, and Lucifer thinks very kindly of her. She's smart enough not to take the supernatural for granted, but she wouldn't treat him any differently, knowing he's a god, than she does now.

"The plaza is mostly what someone might call civilization," she says with amusement in her voice. "Commerce, conversation, people relaxing and playing games and looking for solutions to their problems. Further out, the magic of the place is unstable. They call that the Wilds. You can hurt things and be hurt out there, if you're not careful. It's probably closer to 'natural'."

"The storm was brought on by the spirit of Winter," she adds. "Whatever he was trying to teach us, I don't think we learned, except maybe for the people that died."

She clearly learned something though, or she wouldn't have built herself a miniature stronghold here.

[ablacksun]

The summoning of bugs is very obvious evidence, but there's a lot more, and Zack isn't sure how to explain himself. He's so ancient that he has powers equivalent to those of a god, but he's not quite a god.

He holds up a hand, and it morphs in front of him. Whilst retaining its shape, it becomes dust, sand, a few dry bits of leaf and root, all bundled up into a shape that makes Zack. At the same time, dust falls smoothly and constantly from his hand, without diminishing its size.

“I was a ghost that was given a body made out of dead worlds,” is the best explanation he can think of. “In some places, I'm as powerful as a dying planet. But not here.” Clearly. His hand returns to normal and Zack attempts to create a fissure in the ground. It splits about a foot in length and an inch deep, then instantly seals itself up as if nothing happened.

He likes the sound of the Wilds, and lacks the experience to believe he can be hurt. “Maybe I'll be more powerful there,” Zack suggests, almost optimistically.

The Spirit of Winter instantly interests him though. It's what he is, in a manner of speaking a spirit of nature. In Zack's opinion, mortals seldom understand what it is they're being taught. For some reason though, he doesn't sound off about that. He only ponders the matter.

“Is it far?” He asks of the place where there's food, not being used to walking anywhere. It's an almost childish question of 'are we there yet?'

[eumenis]

I will show you fear in a handful of dust. There isn't much time for poetry and philosophy in the Wasteland, but when she was in the Vault, Miss Giddy taught them to read and play music and appreciate the arts. She remembers bits and pieces, and some remain more applicable than others.

"That explains it," she says. "Why you feel familiar. The world I'm from is dying. Maybe dead...but I don't think so, not quite yet. Things still grow in a few places, and there's still water that's not poisoned. But if we can't turn it around, we're finished."

And she's trying. Without trust that her efforts will be successful, without much in the way of hope, but with the same drive she put toward fighting her way up the ranks in Immortan's army. She'll win or she'll die. Maybe both. She studies him in her peripheral vision. "Does it hurt?" she asks. "Being what you are?"

Everything out here hurts.

And then she points ahead to what looks like a garage built of cinderblocks and scrap metal, set into a low hillside. The grass and scrub from the hill has been trained over the roof of the concrete building, and there appear to be a number of barrels for catching rain. There are a couple fuel pumps, and a series of tanks for biodiesel processing. Further back, there's a wooden building with faint food smells emanating from it. Someone's cooking there.

Amongst the tanks and pumps are a few men, big and muscular, dusted with white chalk and dark paint around their eyes to make them look like living skeletons.

[ablacksun]

“I saw that when we met,” Zack tells, her. It further explains what he is and how things work. “In a way, you're a child of Antillioch too. If your world lives, we'll have no power over it. If it dies, we'll absorb it and all the remaining souls too.”

He's not trying to intimidate her, or anger her. It's just how things work in his dimension. It doesn't follow that it's true in hers however. Zack is aware of alternate universes, but even though the woman called this place 'the Nexus', Zack doesn't know what it means - or that she may not be subject to the same cosmic laws as he is.

Of all mortals, those who were born after the world had as good as ended are the only ones Zack can feel anything for. He not only feels an affinity, because life for them is harsh, as it is for him; but he also understands that they were not responsible. Despite the fact they're still capable of so much destruction. If they're still at each others throats it means they've learned little, as far as he's concerned. But aggression was forced on them to some degree.

Speaking with one, seeing her, learning about her... it all shines new light on his preconceptions.

“Yeah, it hurts most of the time,” he tells her. “The pain of tectonic plates colliding and crunching. Oceans choking for breath around all the plastic. The dying pains of a collapsing food chain.” And so much more. The unrelenting aridity of spreading deserts. The biting cold of a new ice age. The struggle to breathe as oxygen is replaced by toxic gasses. The long slow agonies of starvation. The great epic pains, and the small petty ones. Thorns, grazed knees, chapped and blistered feet. It's a good job Zack's physical appearance doesn't represent what he feels, or he'd be a disfigured monster.

“Eating and drinking help. They shouldn't 'cause look what I am, sand and grit and dust. But they do.”

Zack looks around at the new environment. It's not the devastation he's used to, but something about it actually feels homely to him. Unintimidated, he stares from one person he sees to the next. His own face paint, the dark smudging around his eyes and the burnt orange-red stripes speaks of belonging, more than it does of being alien. The scent of the food is a tiny hint of paradise.

“I like it,” he eventually says, both surprised and a little more relaxed than he was on the plaza.

[eumenis]

For some reason, that makes her smile a little. She doesn't think--or refuses to accept--that the permanent destruction of her planet is imminent, but there's something to be said for a place existing in the universe for it, even if that place is its own kind of Hell.

Chances are the rules aren't the same in her own universe anyway, but if they are, it doesn't seem like a fate worse than death to her. Just death. She walks beside it every day.

"Gonna keep fighting, but I guess we could do worse," she tells him. "If we fail."

She reaches out and places her hand--the flesh and blood one--on his shoulder lightly for just a moment. It's meant to be a reassuring touch, and possibly that's presumptuous from a mortal to whatever he is, but it only lingers for a couple seconds. And when she withdraws she gives him a sober nod as if to acknowledge the suffering he's talking about.

You can't always alleviate pain, but you can almost always see and acknowledge the people undergoing the throes of it. "Well," she goes on, "what we have to offer is pretty simple, maybe a little rough, but it keeps us full."

The War Boys look up as they approach, noting them coming at once, but not stopping their work. The biggest does wave and yell out a "Hey, Boss!" to Furiosa. They've seen her bring friends here before, and back to their own world. This one is unlike most of the others, and yet less weird to them than most of the people that frequent the Nexus.

"That's Crux," she tells Zack, of the man that's waving to them. "And Spanner and Toggle, further back there." Did she even tell him her name yet?

"I'm Furiosa," she says. "What do you want us to call you?" A wave to the painted men, and then she's leading him toward the wooden building.

[ablacksun]

The contact is something Zack would usually shrug off, angrily. And that's at best. Especially from a mortal. But the flipside of that coin is that he's touch-starved. His brother is the closest person to him, and Abe's favour isn't particularly physical, unless he's angry and then it's deeply unpleasant.

It actually helps him to feel some connection. Less alone, perhaps.

“I eat a lot of bugs,” he reminds her, “So simple and rough has got to be better.”

He nods as the woman - Furiosa - tells him the names of the painted humans. They’re almost reminiscent of some of the demons of his dimension, so he accepts who and what they are without question.

“I'm Aisaak,” he tells her, pronouncing it Isaac. “But that's usually when I'm channelling power. The rest of the time it's just Zack.”

He's looking about like a curious animal. Watchful of the surroundings and the building they enter.

[eumenis]

At least Furiosa isn't the most touchy-feel type, herself. Personal space, as she said earlier, is very important to her. But acknowledging the people around you and working with them when you can is also important, and can be the key to survival in a harsh world. Some things that'll kill a lone human can be kept away with cooperative company.

"You're in good company then," she smirks. "We raise mealworms and moths for protein. People here usually aren't interested. But we have other food, too."

"Zack, then," she nods agreeably. "Welcome to the waystation."

Inside, the wooden building is long and fairly low, a single story. Way in the back there's a pair of metal doors with a padlock on them, which seem to lead into the hillside. It's possible they have underground rooms here, given the way it's all situated. Most of the place appears to be a bunkhouse, with two small bathrooms and a kitchen. There are houseplants all over the place. Not much power is being used here; the kitchen appliances are hybrid, able to run on electricity or burnable fuel, and there are fans overhead turning slowly, attached to solar panels on the hill. Solar power is a luxury in itself, really; they can't manufacture the panels on their world yet, but they're working on it, and here, where there are spirits of Autumn and Winter on whose good side Furiosa prefers to stay, the less waste and fumes they put off, the better.

A young man is seated in the middle of the floor, sorting through a little stack of foraged debris, and there's a woman on a stool near the stove. Unlike the men outside, neither of them are painted. The man is missing an arm, like Furiosa, only his is gone from the shoulder all the way down. The woman is young, with a crooked spine and a patch over her right eye, but neither impairment seems to slow her down.

"This is Twisty," Furiosa nods to the woman. "And Bug." That's the man on the floor. "This is Zack. I'm gonna give him a War Boy day ration. Can you put that on the ledger for me?"

"Yup!" Twisty gives the stranger a perky nod and puts a kettle on the stovetop. "Tea for you too, Fury?"

"I'm good, but thanks." It's a matter of only a few moments for Furiosa to dig through the cabinets and set food on the counter for their guest. True to her word, there are a couple large bars that appear to be sweetened grain compressed with mealworms. There are also fried potatoes (cold, but still crisp, and well-salted), flatbread with some kind of soft cheese, a piece of sugarcane, and three apples.

[ablacksun]

Compared to 'roaches, mealworms and moths almost make Zack's mouth water. His body doesn't generally produce liquids. No sweat or blood, or anything else. The one exception being tears. It's significant that his discrepancies lie in his eyes. Abe gets it, and makes sure he never speaks of such, to Zack or anyone else. Zack does eat though, and that requires some degree of lubrication.

There's something in him that can sense the cleanliness of the energy. He takes in this and the building as they enter. When he's Aisaak, intruder and bringer of shit to a dying planet, he never has time to stop and inspect a civilisation, its power, its species. He retains some dim memory of everything that's died, hence he grasps a couple of things one would think he might not, and fails to recognise something that one would think he should be aware of. Clean energy is a wonder to him. It shines a whole new light on this group of mortals.

But then, those born afterwards often do try harder. Zack doesn't yet understand that it's often out of necessity, and not always only born out of good sense.

As he's introduced to Twisty and Bug, Zack does nod to each, affording some respect, but he skirts around them. His attention is instantly taken by the many house-plants. As transfixed as a rat caught in the gaze of a snake, he tentatively touches the broad leaves of one. It feels living and fresh and pure. Tender. To him, it feels the way the skin of a baby might feel to a mortal. Precious and gorgeous, and simply irresistible. The clean living soil the plant is rooted in is also fascinating and wonderful.

Zack pokes in a finger, eyes wide, transfixed. It feels... Gaia, it feels as if it's breathing.

He doesn't know it, but over the next few days, the plant will grow unusually bright, strong and green.

Twisty's cheerful affirmation breaks him out of his reverie. Zack glances guiltily at Furiosa and immediately finds a corner. There he slides to the ground, and examines his surroundings, almost glowering. He'd quite like to stay here. The structure around them is odd, boxed in, and makes him feel a little trapped. Even Abdiron's so-called palace in Antillioch has no roof, and precious few walls.

Looking over at Furiosa, Zack recalls mention of the claiming of the rations of something called a War Boy. Those must be the painted mortals outside. Is he causing someone else to go hungry?

“I'm gonna get money,” he tells her. He's a little gruff again, in front of new people, though he bears them no malice. “I'll learn how. And when I do, I'll bring something. For the War Boys, Twisty and Bug. And for you.”

The food she has on the plate proves irresistible. Zack is on his feet again, approaching cautiously. He's learned not to grab, after the doughnut incident. Furiosa has suddenly become all-powerful. Like Abdiron. She holds a meal the like of which this famine-cursed being has never seen.

[eumenis]

They have a mishmash of energy sources here. The solar panels are the best ones. Back home they have better luck with wind, just because turbines are easier to build than solar panels. Their vehicles run on half biodiesel and half fossil fuels, unfortunately, but around the Nexus they lean on biodiesel--again, largely because of the nature Spirits, but also they don't have to drive nearly as far or fast here as they would in the Wasteland.

Furiosa watches him react to the plant, expression unreadable, but feeling a powerful tug of sentiment. That's how she responded to the vibrant plant life here at first, too. It's less notable in the Plaza, but further out there are parks and then the Wilds, and everything is so abundant and green. The first few times she saw it, she cried, and was devoutly glad none of her people were there to see that.

"The place I bought that called it a kalanchoe," she tells him, of the plant. "It's not for eating or anything but it's so pretty."

When the kettle whistles, Twisty pours hot water over dried leaves and fruit peelings and sets it out by the plate of food. A second and third cup gets poured, and she brings one to Bug, while keeping one for herself.

"It's a good idea to learn how money works here," Furiosa tells him. "But you don't owe us anything. Half the time we just barter, anyway, when we do need things."

This is a gift, is what she means, but she's not going to insult him by refusing if he does bring them something in return later. Ultimately, the fact that he's willing to eat the same things they enjoy makes it a less expensive meal than she might offer to someone from a tamer world. They would get more delicate food, but less of it.

She nods to encourage him. "Go ahead, it's for you. The cheese is from camel milk; we raise them back home."

[ablacksun]

He'll remember the name of the plant, and every other plant he learns here. Not deliberately, but it will happen.

He watches Twisty pour the tea, and manages a nod and nearly-smile as he's given a cup for himself.

It feels good not to owe anything, but a part of him has cottoned on to Furiosa. She's like home in so many ways, only she's like no hellgod that Zack has ever met. She would make a wonderful god-queen if she were ever to invade a hell realm.

“Barter sounds more sensible,” he points out. “I saw what you used to pay the food-seller. Bits of metal. Who can eat those?” He shrugs at how bizarre it is and remembers some of her first words to him; ..a losing battle most of the people here are still fighting.

It's his dim understanding that wealth is one of the biggest reasons that worlds are allowed to die. The natives are so hell-bent on furnishing their nests, that they don't hear their mother planet screaming in agony. To him, wealth meant lots of food, plenty of all one needs. Not little round pieces of metal. It makes the entire mortal concept even more repugnant to him.

With permission given, Zack does tuck into the meal he's been given. He even manages to pause and give Furiosa a bright grin. “This stuff cheese?” he guesses the right one. “S'good. S'all good. Even better than snake,” which is the best kind of food he can find at home.

[eumenis]

If he were to tell her she would make a good god-queen, she wouldn't know whether to be flattered or horrified. Immortan Joe set himself up as a god-king, after all, and she'd cut her own throat before she followed in his footsteps. And yet, she fulfills that role for a lot of her people whether she tries or no. She, like Immortan, is Comeback, someone who should by all rights be dead, but alive and kicking nonetheless, and the winner of her death-match. She and the Sisters, the former wives, do their best to collaborate and counsel rather than act as overlords, but sometimes roughness is necessary. And when it is, it's Furiosa that delivers it.

He's not wrong, is the thing. She knows it.

"Some kinds of metal can be useful for building," she says. "Machines, tools, other things. And there's nothing wrong with art and ornamentation as long as you're not hurting anything with it. But I don't disagree with you, either. As a standard for trade, they're...inconvenient. Not sure how that got started, to be honest. Our standard's usually water or seeds."

"Of course, here they also have PINpoints, the little machines you see on peoples' wrists. They carry words and numbers, and there's an agreed-upon value for the numbers. Which seems even more stupid, since it's not even a thing you can hold and touch, but we use them here since they're a thing people want. Trade 'em for medicine and things and take that home."

His grin of enjoyment of his meal prompts her to return a real smile, one that shows a flash of the dimples which hard living has failed to remove from her features. "Good. The camels were hard to get, but I was determined we'd have milking animals. Got a big herd now. Sometimes we eat the meat, too, but that's a luxury."

"Ever had lizard? The thorny ones with two tails are the best." She's half-joking, but there are certain delicacies of the Wasteland, if they can be called that, which she has a particular taste for. "Those, and when we catch grasshoppers in our garden, we toast and eat those. They're even better."

[ablacksun]

There are good and bad gods - and queens. Zack isn't educated but he's sure that those who wish to become such, and force the issue, are the last ones who should be allowed to do it. Hence, he reasons that the more reluctant or quiet leaders are probably the most worthy.

He cocks his head, taking in these ideas. Yes, metal makes for shelter, and many species need that. As for decoration, he's familiar with that one. Although in Antillioch, gold and gems are not as valued as some other less costly items. They're not rare in Antillioch, but some of the alloys that mortals create, are.

“Money - bits of metal, or something you can't hold from the PINpoints, they're just promises then. Money's only a promise?” A promise that a deal will be upheld, or that the metal coins will hold a certain value for the recipient.

Seeds and water make a lot more sense.

Some distant image of what a camel looks like passes through his mind.

“Yeah. Lizard, snake, rat,” he tells her, wondering why he's so pleased to see a mortal smile. Maybe because they tend not to when he's stalking the planet, rooting out every last living thing. Or is it just that it's nice to see Furiosa smile? “And some alien weird shit that comes from non-humanoid worlds. We get a lot of vermin in Antillioch. The only creatures that survive? They somehow get into our dimension. ...Lucky for me. The demons don't need to eat, neither does Abe. But I do.”

"If Abe is in the mood to let me eat. Food gets scarce when he's mad at me. I'm not stupid enough to think it's coincidence."

He finishes off the flatbread and cheese, starting on the bars of sweetened grain and mealworms. They taste so good, Zack makes a throaty animal sound of pure pleasure. One that would usually be associated with goings-on in the bedroom.

“Locusts are good too. Roll 'em in clay, if you can find some, and stick the whole ball into the fire. Then break it open and pick them out. It's good.”

[eumenis]

As if to illustrate his thoughts, Bug, from his spot on the floor nearby, holds up a handful of beetle elytra so they gleam in the light. They're iridescent, green and black, but it's a safe bet the animals they were attached to have been eaten. "Good to use everything you can get," he adds softly to Furiosa's explanation, and nods at Zack. "If you can't eat it or build with it, it can still be pretty."

"Bug's an artist, and our best forager," Furiosa tells their guest. And then she nods her agreement with his conclusion. "That's it, more or less. We still have coins around the old Citadel, but the world fell down so we don't use most of 'em."

They melt down gold and silver and copper, but Furiosa is all too happy to bring the rest here to trade away.

He speaks offhandedly of his world, and she gets it, but he's dropped some surprising information in just those few words. "Don't know who Abe is, but watch out for people like that. Joe used to tell us not to get addicted to water."

Twisty makes a spitting sound of disapproval at the mention of 'Joe', whoever he might be. Food is a nicer topic, anyway, and Furiosa smiles at the suggestion. "Sounds good to me. Maybe you want to come forage with us sometime, in the Wilds? Sounds like you might recognize as many of the bugs as we do, if not more."

[ablacksun]

The beetle casings are beautiful, even Zack can appreciate that. So much more attractive than even flowers, because they last. He makes a mental note that Bug is a good forager. It always pays to treat such a person with cordiality. Even if cordiality for Zack, is just a brief tight-lipped nod.

“I get it. Nice to look at,” he agrees.

“My brother. Doesn't matter,” is all he says about Abe, with a shrug. It sounds very much to Zack like this Joe is their Abdiron. But at Twisty's reaction, he doesn't chase the subject. He feels a bit like that when it comes to Abe, at the moment. Even is he should try and find the way back home.

It's better here. People - Furiosa really - speaks and listens. She doesn't order him about. She doesn't push his buttons. She also seems to understand something of his world - and he, hers.

He's taking a drink of his tea when the invitation comes. It's a surprise. It also gives a reason to perhaps stay for a while. He'll have to make up his mind of that score, but Zack actually manages another smile.

“Yeah. Okay. I'd like that.”


[ooc, happy to leave them to eat, unless Furi wants to add anything <3]