The Sentinels She plays a thrilling violin, painful and sweet

"A crown, surely," Furiosa purred without thought, not needing to think further on how vividly she imagined great things for the soot-and-silver valkyrie. "You know it's the queens that bear the most worthy  children, and you will be so well-suited for motherhood that a crown is just as well as yours. I mean, from those smart enough to see it -- I'd give you one, if such a thing were up to me." The wretch wasn't aware of the tenuous relationship building between this young woman and her own superior, but it wasn't hard to tell that she thought much the same of Ansbjørn as Arturo did. "I'm not the type to hand out respect where it isn't due. Your leaders," and she said the word with thinly veiled derision, passing a glance towards the watchful raven beyond them; "would do well to recognize it in you, too."

Furiosa turned, appearing to dismiss herself as she felt she had learned enough, eager to be on to the mountain, which was next on her to-do list. "Until we meet again, Ansbjørn." The filthy wraith pressed on -- too callous and overconfident to ever think about looking back.