fragiletreasures-blog
The Fragile
"Where must we go...
we who wander this Wasteland in search of our better selves?"
Independent roleplay blog for Cheedo the Fragile from Mad Max: Fury Road
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SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS SENTENCE STARTERS.
❝ What the hell happened? ❞
❝ I set the car on fire. ❞
❝ You’re gorgeous. ❞
❝ It’s their blood. ❞
❝ Where are your guns? ❞
❝ You’re better than me. ❞
❝ Put your hands up! ❞
❝ You’re fucked from birth. ❞
❝ Are you pissed at me, baby? ❞
❝ Why would I be pissed at you? ❞
❝ Of course we’re friends.❞
❝ Come with me. Please. ❞
❝ I wanna jump inside your pants. ❞
❝ Are you looking at something? ❞
❝ Why did you kill all of those people? ❞
❝ What’s with your sour fucking puss? ❞
❝ Are we gonna have a peyote party? ❞
❝ Friends don’t make their friends die. ❞
❝ Are you nervous because we’re killing a chick? ❞
❝ I’m going to be over to kill you on Tuesday. ❞
❝ Maybe the world just doesn’t understand you. ❞
❝ Poodles always look like they’ve been crying. ❞
❝ We all gotta dream, don’t we? ❞
❝ Have some pride in yourself. ❞
❝ Fuck the cops! Fuck them! ❞
❝ You ever shoot a guy in his eyeball? ❞
❝ Sorry if I haven’t been a very good friend to you. ❞
❝ Don’t ever say I never do anything for you. ❞
❝ Seriously, just fuck off! I’m not in the fucking mood! ❞
❝ I stabbed a guy in the ear once. Ice pick, right in his fucking ear. ❞
❝ You think I’m not serious just because I carry a rabbit? ❞
❝ Are you out of your alcoholic fucking mind? ❞
❝ You’ve eaten too many hallucinogenic cactuses tonight, [ name. ]❞
❝ I don’t have a drinking problem. I just like drinking. ❞
❝ Sorry for hitting you in the face so hard. ❞
❝ Sometimes I think God’s gone crazy. ❞
❝ No shoot-outs, no pay-outs. Just human beings talking. ❞
❝ You might want to stop drinking if this is how you’re gonna behave. ❞
❝ It’s impossible for someone’s head to actually explode, isn’t it? ❞
❝ When are you gonna get a job that’s not just stealing from people? ❞
❝ This guy just telephoned a psycho-killer to come psycho-kill us! ❞
❝ God loves us. I know it. He’s just got a funny way of showing it sometimes. ❞
❝ I didn’t mean to break his nose. His nose was just in the middle of where I was punching. ❞
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I can lose fucking everything.
But not you.
Oh, god.
Not you.
(via oliverqxeen)
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The snarl caused Cheedo to reel her thoughts back, chin lifting as she wondered if this was a good plan. She had expected the woman to be distressed, but not angry with her. Nobody was ever angry with her. So she exhaled, trying to muster up the courage to carry on. Perhaps comfort was what she needed. The girl knew all too well how scary the first night could be. Yet..
Moving her back? So.. this was an old wife then. Cheedo had known that the Immortan had taken many wives over the years, and the current five most probably wouldn’t be the last, but she had assumed that the others were dead or banished. It was beyond shocking to see the past thrown back into the Dome.
At the question, the girl averted her eyes, unsure of how to answer. Her birth name, or her charming new given name.
“He calls me Fragile. The others call me Cheedo.”
Sensing the hostility, she didn’t move any closer to the woman, instead lingering in the doorway to where the others slept. Her gaze lifted once more, resting on the woman, who looked so rabid in here compared to the other Wives. Cheedo was used to grace and beauty, not growling like an animal. Like the people out there.
“I thought all of the old wives were dead.”
Frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, Danu spins around with a surprised gasp when she hears the question. She had been so absorbed by her racing, panicked thoughts that she hadn’t heard the girl creep up behind her, so Danu’s first instinct is to go on the defensive and snarl.
But the sight of the girl reminds Danu where she is and that none of the women here are her enemies. The girl is tall, but long and slim and smooth. Their isn’t a single blemish on her tawny skin; no lumps or scars.
It has been years since Danu has seen a woman as perfect as the one in front of her. Even longer since she had been like that. Danu’s once plush curves had been sharpened by starvation, skin scared and marked from birthing, fighting and hard Wasteland life.
Danu gives herself a shake to settle herself, lifting her chin as she looks the girl over and considers ow to answer her question.
“You are the new wife,” replies Danu, the last lingering bit of hostility leaking into her voice. “I guess Joe didn’t tell you that he would be moving me back in here, eh?”
Danu scoffs and shakes her head.
“My name is Danu. Who are you?”
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Whisper jerks back a step, startled rabbit style, when The Wife stands and speaks. She’s looking around anxiously and Whisper looks with her, wondering what- ah, the War Rig. Visible in the distance under the cold light of the night.
Another step back, time stretching between their matched gazes.
Whisper’s voice is the same rasp as before. “Is she hurt?”
(They mean the War Rig. The Rig doesn’t stop on runs; that’s how you get caught. That’s how you die a rust death.)
“Go. You need to go.” Whisper makes a choked off shooing motion with their hand.
Is she hurt? For a moment, Cheedo thinks that the stranger is talking about her, asking if she was okay, but it doesn’t seem right. Nothing about the exchange seems right. War Boys were supposed to take the Wives back to the Immortan, not help them get away.
“Who?”
Her gaze flits from the rig to the War Boy’s matched glance, and she couldn’t help the suspicion that fell over her expression. If she’d learnt anything out here, it was not to trust anyone until they give you a reason to, and she most definitely did not trust them.
“What, you aren’t going to take me back? Claim your eternal glory?”
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The sound of his voice at the door sent shivers down Cheedo’s spine as she laid her head on the Dag’s shoulder, unable to see the woman in the next room, but hearing her cries of anguish and pain. She had not been aware of a new wife joining them, and the stranger certainly sounded different to how she imagined newcomers would react. Older, more sure.
She was calling him ‘Joe’.
Darkness had fallen in the Bio-Dome, the Wives having fallen asleep and been woken by the screaming. Although they had been to investigate the woman, they had soon retired back to bed, hoping that the morning would bring fresh light on the situation and they could talk properly.
But Cheedo couldn’t leave her. She lay in the bed for a while, staring at the darkened ceiling, but shifting herself and letting her feet carry her into the room. For a few moments, she merely stood in the doorway, leaning against it as she watched the woman curiously.
“Are you his new wife?”
@fragiletreasures
When wheezing whine of the Vault door, just as shiny and unbreakable as she last seen it, send a shiver of horror down Danu’s back. She never thought she would see it again, let alone be dragged back into the poisoned paradise on the other side.
She had been freed. Nearly 127 moons she had wandered the Wastes with her son, reclaiming the land her people once walked and making a life for them. But now she is back, and all because of some filthy War Boys and Joe’s mad desire for the perfect son.
Memories of her youth come flashing back as the Vault door swings open, bile rising up in her throat and Danu thinks she’d rather be in UnderDune.
“-And if you can behave yourself, you might earn some longer chains,” rumbles Joe, voice full of distain. The Imperator’s dragging Danu along shove her roughly through the doorway, causing her to nearly trip on the short chain the connect the shackles on her ankles as she stumbles into the Vault.
“I’m being extremely merciful, Danu,” growls Joe, the warning making his voice twice as terrifying. “Do not make me regret this.”
Danu starts to hyperventilate, gaze darting around the Vault in her panic before she spins around and shouts “When can I see him? Joe?”
The great gleaming door of the door hisses shut.
“Joe!”
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It looked like he’d have to stop here for the day. Well, where else was he going to stop? He’d gonna aimlessly northward for weeks, his last best hope pressing forward stood in front of him, not that she had anymore information than the rest of him.
But Wez didn’t know that. Every man and woman was a lead, and he’d ask everyone he found.
Where?
Where?
Beyond the fingers of stone seemed like as good a spot as any so…
There was a wild excitement in the man’s eyes, and it poured off his skin like a waterfall.
“Beyond that.” He said, pointing to a column of windblown sandstone.
Cheedo’s gaze turned to where he’d gestured, before looking back with a lifted chin and defiant expression. She may have been afraid, but he didn’t know that. By the looks of it, he had no idea who she was, although she was sure that she looked vastly different to most people out here. A kid. An easy target.
“I’m fine on my own.”
It was a lie, of course, but being alone was better than being in the hands of someone potentially dangerous. Wiping a hand across her lips, the already smudged makeup on her face smeared across the palm of her hand, enforcing the expression hopelessness.
“I don’t need any help.”
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There are things that Whisper understands. Most of these things involve engine grease in some way. None of these things involve the Wives in any way. Except for the God-given command to stay away.
And they’re about to. They’d split from the pack to avoid trouble. The kinds loners get into: harvested for parts, or left behind, or Buzzards and Rock Riders, or stranded. But the Wife is staring up at them, a sharp and alarmed gaze. And now Whisper is pinned in place, startled like a rabbit.
Help, they think. Run, they think. Stay away, they think. Can I go with you, they think.
“Hello,” they say. “Why’d you stop running?” Don’t you know they’re coming?
For a moment, Cheedo just lay there, staring at the stranger in alarm. When the wave of panic swept over her, initiated by the sound of their voice, the girl scrambled to her feet, stumbling as she stepped away from them.
Where were the others? Had she really wandered so far?
“S-Stay away!”
She could be brave, that’s what she told herself. Yet her eyes locked on the other, and it was evident that she was frightened beyond belief.
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He’d wandered on and on through the great dry hellscape for what had felt like an eternity of sand and suffering. Where others sought a grab for power, a chance at an elysian afterlife, or nothing more than their own survival, the mangled marauder scoured the wastes for something far more concrete, far more personal.
Somewhere in the sands, the ones who took an arm, a leg, and everyone who ever mattered from Wez still dared to draw breath. For years and years he pursued even the slightest rumor of them. And once, he had a group of likeminded men and women; some left his pointless quest behind, others died along the way.
And, after weeks and weeks without a human in sight, one appeared to him.
What if she knows?
What if she knows where they are?
And so, the one armed marauder stopped.
“You…
Come with me.”
The fear that wrapped itself around Cheedo’s chest was almost too much to bear, the sight of a strange man demanding that she go with him conjuring the worst possible images in her mind. Why did she leave the others? Why did she think that she could do this on her own? Her life had been so sheltered that she didn’t really have many survival skills out here.
Silently, she begged with him to leave her alone, to rev his engine and carry on down the dirt-track. She’d find the Citadel eventually, could go back to her life of luxury, and he’d carry on with his life doing.. whatever he did.
But no. His eyes stayed on her, and Cheedo allowed her lips to part, one small word barely a whisper as it was uttered.
“Where?”
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@berserkxng
White shawl wrapped tightly around her, Cheedo felt as though her legs would give way if she walked any further. The Wasteland seemed to stretch on forever, seeming so much longer on foot than it had ever seemed in the rig. Why had she decided to do this alone? Why hadn’t she stayed with the others, or convinced someone else to come with her?
Because she knew that none of the others wanted to go back. She was scared, that was why. Scared of the unknown, of the strange people that lurked around every corner. She was seen as something that people wanted or they envied, and it made her a target. At least she was protected in the Citadel.
Scorching rays blaring onto her skin, the girl was sure that she’d heard a noise. A blasting of some sort of engine, a bike maybe. Sure enough, as she turned around, a motorcycle could be seen in the distance, getting closer by the second. Cheedo turned back and scurried off of the dirt-track, keeping her eyes locked on the ground. She didn’t have the energy to run, so she could only pray that the bike zoomed past without even a glance in her direction.
Yet when the bike stopped next to her, there wasn’t much she could do but look at the man before her. Silence. Fear. She would not be the first one to speak.
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All he could think about was the Organic Mechanic’s hand in his mouth, checking his teeth. All he could think about was the look over, the appraisal, he had inspected every inch of his body for sores or lumps or rashes. He’d tapped joints, he’d moved his hair side to side, he’d stuck him with things and whistled. Youth wished that had been the worse thing to ever happen. He wished he could say the War Boys pouncing on him and dragging Wez off was the most traumatic event of his life. He wished Joe’s hands were the worst things to touch him. But it wasn’t even close. No one and nothing could hurt him anymore than he’d already been hurt. Youth had been in hell for most of his eighteen years, he’d been a slave for so long he didn’t bother to fight back even for a moment.
He’d been in the Citadel for three days and had already been pronounced the new favorite. It took a lot of work to stay silent and still for 72 hours. It took a lot of work to let them do whatever they wanted to him. It took a lot of work to comply. But he knew if he didn’t he’d be dead.
He wasn’t entirely sure why Joe stuffed him in here instead of just chaining him to a wall like a previous trader had. He wasn’t sure why he trusted him with his “Breeders”, perhaps it was his absolute meekness. Maybe Joe knew he was terrified of women. Maybe it was just a form of phycological warfare. Maybe he valued him in some sense.
Girls scared Youth. It was irrational really, maybe just a scar on his subconscious that wouldn’t heal. His mother had been wholly unsavory, the only person on earth who hadn’t seen any value in him at all. She’s been the one to begin to beat him down to the silent compliant doll he’d become. After his mother came the slave girls, girls who punched him in the chin when he didn’t respond and cut his hair out of jealousy. Then there were the Smegma Crazy girls who had tried to take him hood surfing when Wez turned his back. A man had never treated him superbly but a girl had never treated him decently. He supposed men saw him as a non threat and women saw him as a non-compliant equal.
The “Breeders”, as Joe called them, were wary already. He saw their glances. He heard them whisper. He was bitterly aware he didn’t belong. He walked on eggshells all afternoon, not saying a word, dipping his feet in the pool or finding a corner where he wouldn’t be in the way. He was an intruder and he was very aware of his role. He was an outsider and he didn’t desire to be in. They’d gone to their beds and he’d gone to the other room to rest his head on his knees and think about how different things were going to he.
When she spoke to him he flinched like he had been smacked, head raising immediately. He briefly looked her in the face before shifting his golden-brown eyes to the floor once more. Was he allowed to look at her? He felt like he wasn’t.
“I didn’t ask to be let in.” He finally said in his quiet boy-like distraught drawl. It was the best offering of an answer he could give her. He himself didn’t know.
Looking over the stranger, Cheedo remembered exactly what it was like to be in his situation, although her beginnings here weren’t quite so forceful. Still, the memories of her initiation into the marriage was cemented into her mind through the brand that she carried on the back of her neck. No doubt the newcomer carried it too, as they all did.
Silence. She didn’t know how to reply to that. Instead, she stood awkwardly, wondering if the best solution would be to turn and go back to bed. Maybe crawl in with one of her sisters and whisper about the strange boy that was sat in the main room.
But from the look on his face, she knew that it was the last thing she should probably do.
“Its not that bad.”
There was violence here, and humiliation, forcefulness, greed. In the short while that she had been here, Cheedo had witnessed the suffering of the other women, had known that this was where her life would lead when she was a little older. And yet, she couldn’t help but think of the positives.
“There’s water.. and food. And Miss Giddy teaches us stuff, like the piano and languages and.. and about.. history..”
Her voice trailed off, dark hues locked on the man before her as she wondered what to say next. What he’d been through and what he was yet to endure. When she spoke again, her whisper had softened, trying to be comforting in the same way that she had been consoled when she arrived.
“Its better than being out there. If you follow his rules.”
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@lectricy
Perhaps she was out of her mind. The thought had definitely crossed Cheedo’s brain as she carried herself through the desert, stumbling as the sand gave way beneath her feet. The other wives had dragged her back when she tried to run the first time, convincing her to stay with them, that the Immortan didn’t love her and wouldn’t spare her any pain if she returned.
She had believed them. Until night fell and the chill set in, and all that the girl could think about was her warm bed back at the Citadel. The water in the Aqua Cola to sooth her parched throat, and kind words and glances from all that visited. They were worshipped, everybody envious of their lifestyle. There had been no pain then.
That was why she had let herself run away, back towards the direction of the Citadel. When a gas tank was spotted sitting in the sand, the drivers stopping for a refuel, the girl nimbly jumped onto the back, allowing the vehicle to carry her towards its destination: Gas Town.
The sun was about to rise by the time she arrived, and Cheedo was sure to be cautious enough that nobody could see her. Unfortunately that didn’t go too well, as she soon found a figure standing before her. Chest rising and falling in rapid breaths, the girl was quick to put on her act, eyes wide with innocence as she silently begged for a chance.
“Help me!”
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Escape had tasted so sweet in the first few moments away from the Citadel, yet it was becoming colder in the desert, the darkness enveloping the sky in a shroud of terror. Cheedo’s attempts at sleep proved futile, so she unhooked the Dag’s limp arm from around her shoulders and exited the rig, silently moving past Furiosa’s watch-keeping.
She never intended to wander far, just a little while away so that she could gather her thoughts, could be alone for the first time in her life. So she sat on the chilled sand, eyes focused on the shining moonlight above. Sleep eventually washed over her, drowsiness setting in, and before she knew it, she was dead to the world.
The next thing she knew, her eyes had snapped open to see a figure standing above her. A War Boy.
@fragiletreasures
Whisper has been walking the walk of the intent, the kind of walk designed to make it look like the blackthumb belonged where they were, knew where they were going. Neither of those things were really true, however.
This is not the first of Whisper’s trips up beyond the War Boy common areas, but they’re out of known territory once again. A sort of unauthorized fact finding mission.
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@ganymedeisms
A visitor in the Bio-Dome was a rare occurrence in itself, with the wives being kept from the outside world in total isolation. No man was ever allowed to set foot inside, unless the Immortan stood beside him. That was why the girls were left in utter shock when a stranger was placed in their presence, before the door was shut behind them.
It became apparent that this wasn’t a visitor, but a permanent resident. Miss Giddy explained the situation to them, but Cheedo was only half listening, mind wandering as she wondered whether or not to approach them.
After a full day of awkwardly tip-toeing around the situation, Cheedo slipped out of her bed and into the main room, knowing well that the stranger would be there. It was where all newcomers seemed to spend their first night, unable to find any slumber in the darkness.
“Why did he let you in here?”
She was afraid, of course, but there wasn’t much that the man could do to her if he turned. The others slept soundly in their beds, a guard stood right outside the door, and Cheedo had the ominous chastity belt padlocked around her waist.
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“We Are Not Things!”
Those were her words..
And now she’s DEAD!
ind & selective ‘cheedo the fragile’ of ‘mad max: fury road’
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