Maybe after Cheedo and Capable finish the school they want to create, the pups will learn how to do the math. In the meantime, Furiosa gives him a little smile and nods upward as the lift moves into the sun and open air.
They're being dropped on one of the lower garden terraces, but it's a big space, with two windmills and a crane as well as several rows of sorghum and sugar cane. Between the taller plants, there are smaller green things: dandelions and baby spinach. At the edge of the drop, there are also some ramshackle fences made of scrap, and a lean-to building with a graywater cistern beside it.
"Who tends to these?" he asked as they walked the path, pausing to look at the sugar cane, surprised they had it. Sweeteners were a luxury back in his galaxy for humans. And usually said sweetener was honey. Which they seemed to have here as well judging by the bee boxes at the far end.
The dandelions were a surprise as well as they were often considered a weed and thus were likely kept in rigorous check here. He assumed you could eat them, otherwise why grow them?
"Technically, up until now, mostly slaves," she says with a sigh. "That's splitting hairs, I guess. They wanted to come up and work, for the most part. Even a rough job up here is better than starving on the ground, but we're going to make some changes, as quickly as we can without letting the infrastructure fall apart."
"The Dag is going to handle the gardens and fields. Directing the planting, I mean. We may be able to grow even more than we do now, if we're clever about it."
She nods at the rows. "Growing greens under taller stalks is one trick. The shade keeps the delicate plants from wilting."
Oh, the dandelions are definitely for eating. The blossoms make dandelion wine, too, but it will be quite a while before they get to try that.
He observed the few tricks she pointed out. Indeed, that was clever, specially since otherwise, up here, they'd be getting sun all day long without any relief.
"Guess I should meet this Dag if I'm to be living up here" he said as they came upon the first of the shacks.
It really was a shack. Four walls, a grimy window, and a bed. A shovel and a towel were hung on one wall. It was also very hot up here. He was second-guessing his preference for staying up here.
Perhaps though it was best he stayed down in Organics. He wasn't a gardener anyway, knowing about as much of it as Furiosa would know how to pilot a dart ship.
"I would advise that. She's...bound to be a little territorial." Furiosa hides a smile. The Dag is far from violent, and despite being tall, she's a willowy slip of a woman, so she's not physically imposing. Still, Furiosa has no doubt that if she feels her little green children are threatened, she'll very easily become a mother bear.
Plus, there's the pregnancy hormones starting to kick in. The Dag will be a terror before much longer.
The shack will be cooler and more pleasant in the evenings, but Furiosa won't blame him one bit if he prefers the indoors. She's thinking he's more of a scholar than an outdoorsman, from the limited acquaintance they've had. That, and if he's got the knowledge for making use of Organic's equipment, they want that working for them.
"Not that pretty, I know." She says with a shrug. "But a step up from a cell."
He's dealt with Wraith Queens all his life. He was quite sure there would be no difference between one of them and Dag. Was the "the" necessary? Names were strange. So all he had to do was listen, keep eye contact to a minimum, and he was sure he'd remain on her good side.
Oh he loves the outdoors, in fact he can't wait until the sky darkens and the first stars appear. He's just not used to this environment after being underground in a relatively climate-controlled area for so long.
"I'll remain in Organics until its up and running properly I think, and then settle up here." Todd decided as they left the shack to tour more of the gardens.
Was better anyway, meant he didn't have to make the trek back and forth in his recuperating state. In the meantime the shacks could be cleaned up and outfitted with mattresses that weren't crawling with bedbugs. Also, once he was up to it, make his own to his preference.
Come to think of it, Furiosa isn't sure whether 'the' needs to be there or not. She's sure 'the Dag' is a nickname, but beyond that, not positive. She could probably ask sometime, but by and large she leaves it up to the Sisters to tell her what they think she needs to know when she needs to know it.
"I have no objection to that," Furiosa says easily, and hopes he doesn't think she's a pushover because she's agreeing to his requests without a protest. He hasn't asked anything unreasonable so far.
The next terrace up takes a short steep climb up a flight of rock-carved stairs, and she's panting by the time they get to the top. Her lungs aren't quite right yet, and she's suffering from the days-old loss of blood. She looks irritated to be so weak, and sits on a boulder to recover, looking out at the view Northward into the bright desert.
He's quite sure she'll eventually draw the line somewhere on his requests, but for now what he asked for was needed and really a no-brainer.
Todd paused as she seemed to collapse. Heat stroke? No. Her breathing sounded strange. She'd been injured in the fight with Joe, he wondered just how badly if it was still affecting her a couple days later. Clearly it was taking a toll on her during their stroll
He could help...After all, her cooperation was the best thing for him right now...But if it wasn't a fatal wound, he felt as though he'd be wasting himself...Plus...it was a gift.
He decided to put aside his pride and offer it to her. If she refused, so be it.
"Wraith have a unique ability to give back the life we took." he said, lifting his right hand and looking at the slit in his palm. "It stems from an enzyme we naturally produce. You see, our method of feeding on humans is so traumatizing to the victim's body, that if we didn't inject the enzyme while simultaneously feeding upon them, they'd die within a couple seconds. But it also can be used on its own. Be it reviving someone from the dead a short while ago, to extending the lives of our devout worshipers..." Todd looked to her injured side. "Or healing an injured brother."
It's frustrating, the lack of breath, and it's also frightening. She still remembers all too vividly those terrible moments in the back of the Gigahorse where her own body was squeezing the air from her lungs. It still hurts, even now, and Hela keeps warning her to keep the bandages clean because infection is always a possibility...
She looks up at him when he holds up his hand, wary but curious. And she doesn't much care for the mention of 'devout worshippers'--she knows he's talking of something long ago, but Immortan Joe had devout worshippers, too--but it's clear he's offering a kindness.
She puts her hand to her ribs thoughtfully. She has injuries in both sides, in fact, but the stab Max inflicted is shallower and is already healing. The original wound, from her own shiv, is angrier. "It happened in the road war," she explains. "Someone got into the cab of the Rig, nicked me in the lung. It collapsed partway. I almost bled out, too, but there was a man with us who helped me."
She grimaces. "It wouldn't harm you, to use this ability? Favors are one thing, but I won't have you making sacrifices for me. Not so soon after being freed. I don't want you, or anyone else, to be used."
"No, it won't do me any harm." he said with a shake of his head. He stepped a bit closer and elaborated on what would happen if she chose to let him help her. "You'll feel a hard pinch as the barb sticks into your skin, the sternum is the best place, then a rush, many seem to find it quite exhilarating. For an injury such as yours however I won't need to give you much. And, as you are injured, you won't become dependent on it as it can actually become addictive if used too often. After I've let go the wound I made will heal over."
He decided to add something. "Let me be clear, this ability that we have is special. And I will likely not offer it to anyone else. In fact its best you keep this to yourself to the best of your ability."
It would be tough to hide her sudden healed self, especially around the Sisters whom she seemed to spend a lot of time with, but he hoped she'd understand this wasn't a be-all-end-all cure for every ailment.
"Sounds like painkillers," she says thoughtfully. "Or huffing NOS."
The potential for it to become addictive is unsettling. Maybe she's overly suspicious, but it occurs to her the offer itself could be a trap. A trick designed to make her dependent on him. She tilts her head, meeting his reptillian gaze with her own, and realizes she doesn't believe he's playing her. Maybe he's trying to build bridges, but that's not wrong, by a long shot.
She nods slowly and reaches up to touch her right fingertips to his. Delicate. "I can't afford to get worse, or die of infection. If you're sure you're willing, I'll take the help, and thank you."
Pause. "...but if it feels like too much for you, you stop right away, you hear? Don't overextend."
He just got out of prison, after all, and he's been half-starved.
The light touch has him look at her hand on his. A strange gesture. But humans were strange beings.
He chuckled however at extra prod to let him stop if he felt weakened. "Compassion for wraith from a human, even after all this time. Have to admit, I'll never get used to that." He decided not to try and assure her that it didn't have any real affect on him.
Last time he did this, it was for the human who'd named him.
Todd sat down beside her, flexing his fingers a bit, the narrow slit in his palm instantly widening. When she seemed to relax and give him a sign she was ready, he laid his hand, palm flat, against her upper sternum.
A sharp, hard pinch as described, then a rush of relief, the enzyme instantly soothing pains and aches of everything she'd endured physically. Lung puncture, cuts, bruises, all gone. He held on for maybe ten seconds tops before letting go, a gross suction sound accompanying his release. A bloody gash was visible for a few moments on Furiosa's skin before it healed over without so much as a scratch to show what she'd just been through.
"Why so surprised, when you're extending the reverse?" she shrugs lazily and puts both arms back to support herself and let him work. She'd be lying if she pretended it wasn't deeply unsettling, the pressure over her upper chest and the sharp jab, but she doesn't so much as flinch, eyes locked on his face as if hoping that will be enough to read him.
Except, there is a bit of a rush from whatever he gives her, and there's a moment where her pupils flare, eyes drifting half-closed. Then he's withdrawing, and she blinks and shakes her head to clear it.
She runs her tongue over her teeth and lifts her left arm up to look it over. She was expecting the lung pain and the ache in her cheekbone to ease. The arm not so much. She's gotten used to the steady ache of missing flesh, maybe, and now it's gone, if only for a little while. She flexes her metal fingers and gives a soft laugh, then looks up again, and stands. "Thank you."
The enzyme was good at healing, but missing parts weren't replaceable by it. Even a massive dose couldn't grow back missing limbs or digits. Still, it was good at removing any and all physical pain and wounds.
He got up as well and nodded at her thanks.
"You said a man helped you before, when your lung was punctured, one of the warboys?" he asked as they resumed their tour of the gardens
Furiosa certainly didn't expect him to grow her arm back for her. If he could and had offered, she likely would refuse. The abbreviation of flesh and bone is a part of her now, as much a part as the limb itself once was. But it's nice to have the ache subdued, and the swelling a bit reduced.
"Not a war boy," she shakes her head, moving between rows of plants and pausing to watch a bee work with visible pleasure. "No, he was a feral. They'd been using him as a bloodbag, and he got dragged into the field on the front of a war vehicle. It's amazing how cruel we can be without even trying."
'We' meaning ostensibly the Citadel, or maybe war boy culture. It might be applicable to humanity as a whole, though. "But he got loose in the storm, joined us, fought with us. And he gave me his blood when I was dying."
She won't forget that. It's a monumental thing, to have someone give you freely what they've had taken from them once by force. "But I think he's wedded to the road. I'll miss him, but he's gone now. Maybe he'll come back some day."
Quite the human to be used and then give back to those who used him. Then again Todd was in a similar position, although with the difference that Todd preferred to take his chances here rather than out in the wastes.
The smell of herbs greeted him as they continued along the path. Rosemary, basil, parsley, all growing full and well in the sun and damp earth.
As they made their way along the rows and came to the end where an open area had been freshly tilled, a woman with long platinum blonde hair was kneeling in the dirt and almost tenderly burying seed after seed in the dark soil.
Todd looked to Furiosa. "One of the Sisters?" he guessed
She realizes just that, after she's spoken: that Todd has had his ability used by force, and yet just gave the benefit of it to her freely, only an hour or so after being released. She never asked it of him, and never would have, and now she wonders what it is she does that makes people decide she merits these kinds of things. Maybe it's an even more extravagant gift from a Wraith; he's not even the same species.
She's giving him a thoughtful, almost soft look as they turn the corner toward the garden, and touches his arm lightly without speaking, a second, subtler thanks.
She's quick to brighten at seeing the Dag working, though. She wastes no time. "That's the Dag. She has the seed hoard from the Vuvalini."
Furiosa whistles to catch the other woman's attention and wanders over when she looks up. "Working alone?"
"Cheedo went to fetch extra water," she answers, tones clipped but not hostile. Her gaze strays to Todd quickly, sharp and thoughtful.
Despite all he'd been through, both here at the Citadel and before the death of the world, compassion was still very very, very new to Todd. Wraith considered it weakness. It was really in his benefit, or so he'd say, to keep her alive and well.
But also, though he'd never admit it out loud, he longed for that companionship again like that he'd shared with the man who's named him. Perhaps also why he'd healed her, hoping to regain that familiarity.
Todd glanced to her touching his arm but said nothing of it.
Ah, so this was the gardener he'd heard about.
He looked around the cleared area and what the woman-and her vacant companion-had accomplished so far. Needless to say they didn't waste time around here. Two days ago they were dealing with Joe after all.
He turned back to her when she spoke and he politely inclined his head. "My name is Todd." he introduced. If she cared to know about anything more of him, then she need only ask, if not, he need not bother elaborating.
Furiosa isn't the type to push affection or even friendship on someone, and she's inclined to give him space, knowing his ordeal has been even longer than her own. Still, even after all these years here she feels like an outsider, trying to stand in three worlds--the Green Place, the Citadel, and the Fury Road--with only two legs. Maybe the presence of another outsider is reassuring.
"Todd," the Dag repeats, a little distantly. "So you're the monster old Joe kept under the bed, eh? Not so scary. What's this about, then?" She gestures to indicate the markings around his one eye.
Furiosa's expression is a blend of amusement and mild apology. The Dag has no tact whatsoever, but she's very bright and very observant.
Todd chuckled at the other's bluntness. He preferred it over feigned politeness.
When she gestured to his tattoos he answered, "A symbol of a great victory my kin had. A very, very long time ago. My kin do not mark themselves like humans do. We do it only when we achieve or accomplish something great."
Also because of their healing ability the process to get a tattoo was far more of a pain than it was for humans so tats merely for decoration were very few and far between. Usually only Queens got them.
Not everyone feels that way about the Dag, but she's grown on Furiosa, at least.
"War boys cut the shapes of engine parts into their flesh," Furiosa says. "As totems. Engines can be fixed. Human bodies are harder to deal with. Mysterious. They hope if they carve spanners or engines onto themselves, they'll be a little more fixable. Last a little longer."
She puts her hand up to touch the brand on the back of her neck. "Thinking some of us will want ink to cover up these, though, before long." She hates that brand, that symbol. She's not sure if it's better or worse that so many others share it.
"Oh, definitely," the Dag says, and displays her tattooed knuckles. "Let me know when you want yours done, Fury. Miss Giddy taught me."
Todd thought about the strange scars he'd seen on the war boys, past and present. Ah, that was what that was. An odd ritual as machines, unless organic, eventually broke down. Then again a lot of what was done around here would be considered "odd". They had to adapt in a way humanity likely had not had to do since the last ice age.
It took a great deal to leave a Wraith with a scar. Even old ones, with enough feeding, healed up. He'd only met a handful of fellow wraith who'd had been injured beyond healing.
He glanced to the brand on the back of Furiosa's neck. Joe had tried to brand him too, on his shoulder, to mark him as his, but thanks to his healing, it was gone within the first feeding. Still, no less painful.
As the two women spoke to one another, his eyes landed on a large bag near the Dag. Mindful of the rows, he stepped over to it and peered inside. Seeds. Dozens of types, hundreds of each. Where had they gathered so many in such variety?
War boys break down, too, and often in less time than it takes a well-maintained machine to do so. Many of the tumors they sport are benign, but not all. Furiosa has seen some go in very painful ways. At least three begged her to 'take them to Valhalla' rather than let them die slow and soft. She's not sure what to do with those memories; they're both touching and horrible.
Were she aware he'd been branded but healed, she'd be both sympathetic and envious. She'd do a lot to get Joe's mark off of her skin, but even getting it surgically removed from her would leave a scar where it had been. That doesn't strike her as productive. Better to cover it with something better, than to allow the dead Immortan to take one more ounce of flesh and blood from her.
The Dag notes what he's doing before Furiosa does, and reacts much as if he were coming over to peer at a vulnerable infant in her care. She doesn't snatch the bag or push him away, but she does put both hands on it, an unmistakeably possessive gesture. "They're heirlooms," she tells him. "Precious."
Ow nope, not a good idea to be cutting skin off, especially near the neck. Tattoos are a far better alternative.
He doesn't touch it nor get any closer to her. Like a mother guarding her young. But he simply nods. "Indeed they are. How'd you come by so many, might I ask?"
If they'd been Joe's, he suspected they wouldn't be carried around like luggage. Had they come across a bunker like his during their flight? Or perhaps the road man Furiosa spoke of had them?
Wise of him not to push his luck with the Dag. She's not especially violent by nature, but she might react exactly like a mother protecting her young, and she does have steel toes in those boots. His answer mollifies her, at least. "They were a gift," she says cryptically.
"When we left the Citadel to escape, we made it all the way out to where my clan, my people, used to live." Furiosa explains for her. "One of our elders had been keeping them for years. Judith, our Seed-Mother. She died in the battle, but...these live on."
She does a subtle grasping gesture in the air and pulls her hand to her sternum. A memorial for the dead, perhaps. The Dag does the same thing, a little warily.
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sarken
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-05 02:25 am (UTC)They're being dropped on one of the lower garden terraces, but it's a big space, with two windmills and a crane as well as several rows of sorghum and sugar cane. Between the taller plants, there are smaller green things: dandelions and baby spinach. At the edge of the drop, there are also some ramshackle fences made of scrap, and a lean-to building with a graywater cistern beside it.
argh notifs are being a pain again
Date: 2016-08-05 03:18 am (UTC)The dandelions were a surprise as well as they were often considered a weed and thus were likely kept in rigorous check here. He assumed you could eat them, otherwise why grow them?
I'm getting no notifs at all right now :/
Date: 2016-08-07 03:43 am (UTC)"The Dag is going to handle the gardens and fields. Directing the planting, I mean. We may be able to grow even more than we do now, if we're clever about it."
She nods at the rows. "Growing greens under taller stalks is one trick. The shade keeps the delicate plants from wilting."
Oh, the dandelions are definitely for eating. The blossoms make dandelion wine, too, but it will be quite a while before they get to try that.
i'm getting them through my DW inbox but not email :/
Date: 2016-08-07 04:39 am (UTC)"Guess I should meet this Dag if I'm to be living up here" he said as they came upon the first of the shacks.
It really was a shack. Four walls, a grimy window, and a bed. A shovel and a towel were hung on one wall. It was also very hot up here. He was second-guessing his preference for staying up here.
Perhaps though it was best he stayed down in Organics. He wasn't a gardener anyway, knowing about as much of it as Furiosa would know how to pilot a dart ship.
supposedly it's resolved now but I'm a little concerned still
Date: 2016-08-08 12:56 am (UTC)Plus, there's the pregnancy hormones starting to kick in. The Dag will be a terror before much longer.
The shack will be cooler and more pleasant in the evenings, but Furiosa won't blame him one bit if he prefers the indoors. She's thinking he's more of a scholar than an outdoorsman, from the limited acquaintance they've had. That, and if he's got the knowledge for making use of Organic's equipment, they want that working for them.
"Not that pretty, I know." She says with a shrug. "But a step up from a cell."
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-08 01:15 am (UTC)Oh he loves the outdoors, in fact he can't wait until the sky darkens and the first stars appear. He's just not used to this environment after being underground in a relatively climate-controlled area for so long.
"I'll remain in Organics until its up and running properly I think, and then settle up here." Todd decided as they left the shack to tour more of the gardens.
Was better anyway, meant he didn't have to make the trek back and forth in his recuperating state. In the meantime the shacks could be cleaned up and outfitted with mattresses that weren't crawling with bedbugs. Also, once he was up to it, make his own to his preference.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-08 02:41 am (UTC)"I have no objection to that," Furiosa says easily, and hopes he doesn't think she's a pushover because she's agreeing to his requests without a protest. He hasn't asked anything unreasonable so far.
The next terrace up takes a short steep climb up a flight of rock-carved stairs, and she's panting by the time they get to the top. Her lungs aren't quite right yet, and she's suffering from the days-old loss of blood. She looks irritated to be so weak, and sits on a boulder to recover, looking out at the view Northward into the bright desert.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-08 02:59 am (UTC)Todd paused as she seemed to collapse. Heat stroke? No. Her breathing sounded strange. She'd been injured in the fight with Joe, he wondered just how badly if it was still affecting her a couple days later. Clearly it was taking a toll on her during their stroll
He could help...After all, her cooperation was the best thing for him right now...But if it wasn't a fatal wound, he felt as though he'd be wasting himself...Plus...it was a gift.
He decided to put aside his pride and offer it to her. If she refused, so be it.
"Wraith have a unique ability to give back the life we took." he said, lifting his right hand and looking at the slit in his palm. "It stems from an enzyme we naturally produce. You see, our method of feeding on humans is so traumatizing to the victim's body, that if we didn't inject the enzyme while simultaneously feeding upon them, they'd die within a couple seconds. But it also can be used on its own. Be it reviving someone from the dead a short while ago, to extending the lives of our devout worshipers..." Todd looked to her injured side. "Or healing an injured brother."
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-11 02:43 am (UTC)She looks up at him when he holds up his hand, wary but curious. And she doesn't much care for the mention of 'devout worshippers'--she knows he's talking of something long ago, but Immortan Joe had devout worshippers, too--but it's clear he's offering a kindness.
She puts her hand to her ribs thoughtfully. She has injuries in both sides, in fact, but the stab Max inflicted is shallower and is already healing. The original wound, from her own shiv, is angrier. "It happened in the road war," she explains. "Someone got into the cab of the Rig, nicked me in the lung. It collapsed partway. I almost bled out, too, but there was a man with us who helped me."
She grimaces. "It wouldn't harm you, to use this ability? Favors are one thing, but I won't have you making sacrifices for me. Not so soon after being freed. I don't want you, or anyone else, to be used."
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-11 03:11 am (UTC)He decided to add something. "Let me be clear, this ability that we have is special. And I will likely not offer it to anyone else. In fact its best you keep this to yourself to the best of your ability."
It would be tough to hide her sudden healed self, especially around the Sisters whom she seemed to spend a lot of time with, but he hoped she'd understand this wasn't a be-all-end-all cure for every ailment.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-11 03:29 am (UTC)The potential for it to become addictive is unsettling. Maybe she's overly suspicious, but it occurs to her the offer itself could be a trap. A trick designed to make her dependent on him. She tilts her head, meeting his reptillian gaze with her own, and realizes she doesn't believe he's playing her. Maybe he's trying to build bridges, but that's not wrong, by a long shot.
She nods slowly and reaches up to touch her right fingertips to his. Delicate. "I can't afford to get worse, or die of infection. If you're sure you're willing, I'll take the help, and thank you."
Pause. "...but if it feels like too much for you, you stop right away, you hear? Don't overextend."
He just got out of prison, after all, and he's been half-starved.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-11 03:45 am (UTC)He chuckled however at extra prod to let him stop if he felt weakened. "Compassion for wraith from a human, even after all this time. Have to admit, I'll never get used to that." He decided not to try and assure her that it didn't have any real affect on him.
Last time he did this, it was for the human who'd named him.
Todd sat down beside her, flexing his fingers a bit, the narrow slit in his palm instantly widening. When she seemed to relax and give him a sign she was ready, he laid his hand, palm flat, against her upper sternum.
A sharp, hard pinch as described, then a rush of relief, the enzyme instantly soothing pains and aches of everything she'd endured physically. Lung puncture, cuts, bruises, all gone. He held on for maybe ten seconds tops before letting go, a gross suction sound accompanying his release. A bloody gash was visible for a few moments on Furiosa's skin before it healed over without so much as a scratch to show what she'd just been through.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-12 02:17 am (UTC)"Why so surprised, when you're extending the reverse?" she shrugs lazily and puts both arms back to support herself and let him work. She'd be lying if she pretended it wasn't deeply unsettling, the pressure over her upper chest and the sharp jab, but she doesn't so much as flinch, eyes locked on his face as if hoping that will be enough to read him.
Except, there is a bit of a rush from whatever he gives her, and there's a moment where her pupils flare, eyes drifting half-closed. Then he's withdrawing, and she blinks and shakes her head to clear it.
She runs her tongue over her teeth and lifts her left arm up to look it over. She was expecting the lung pain and the ache in her cheekbone to ease. The arm not so much. She's gotten used to the steady ache of missing flesh, maybe, and now it's gone, if only for a little while. She flexes her metal fingers and gives a soft laugh, then looks up again, and stands. "Thank you."
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-12 02:32 am (UTC)He got up as well and nodded at her thanks.
"You said a man helped you before, when your lung was punctured, one of the warboys?" he asked as they resumed their tour of the gardens
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-13 04:56 am (UTC)"Not a war boy," she shakes her head, moving between rows of plants and pausing to watch a bee work with visible pleasure. "No, he was a feral. They'd been using him as a bloodbag, and he got dragged into the field on the front of a war vehicle. It's amazing how cruel we can be without even trying."
'We' meaning ostensibly the Citadel, or maybe war boy culture. It might be applicable to humanity as a whole, though. "But he got loose in the storm, joined us, fought with us. And he gave me his blood when I was dying."
She won't forget that. It's a monumental thing, to have someone give you freely what they've had taken from them once by force. "But I think he's wedded to the road. I'll miss him, but he's gone now. Maybe he'll come back some day."
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-13 05:24 am (UTC)The smell of herbs greeted him as they continued along the path. Rosemary, basil, parsley, all growing full and well in the sun and damp earth.
As they made their way along the rows and came to the end where an open area had been freshly tilled, a woman with long platinum blonde hair was kneeling in the dirt and almost tenderly burying seed after seed in the dark soil.
Todd looked to Furiosa. "One of the Sisters?" he guessed
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-13 04:40 pm (UTC)She's giving him a thoughtful, almost soft look as they turn the corner toward the garden, and touches his arm lightly without speaking, a second, subtler thanks.
She's quick to brighten at seeing the Dag working, though. She wastes no time. "That's the Dag. She has the seed hoard from the Vuvalini."
Furiosa whistles to catch the other woman's attention and wanders over when she looks up. "Working alone?"
"Cheedo went to fetch extra water," she answers, tones clipped but not hostile. Her gaze strays to Todd quickly, sharp and thoughtful.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-13 05:03 pm (UTC)But also, though he'd never admit it out loud, he longed for that companionship again like that he'd shared with the man who's named him. Perhaps also why he'd healed her, hoping to regain that familiarity.
Todd glanced to her touching his arm but said nothing of it.
Ah, so this was the gardener he'd heard about.
He looked around the cleared area and what the woman-and her vacant companion-had accomplished so far. Needless to say they didn't waste time around here. Two days ago they were dealing with Joe after all.
He turned back to her when she spoke and he politely inclined his head. "My name is Todd." he introduced. If she cared to know about anything more of him, then she need only ask, if not, he need not bother elaborating.
(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-15 01:21 am (UTC)"Todd," the Dag repeats, a little distantly. "So you're the monster old Joe kept under the bed, eh? Not so scary. What's this about, then?" She gestures to indicate the markings around his one eye.
Furiosa's expression is a blend of amusement and mild apology. The Dag has no tact whatsoever, but she's very bright and very observant.
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Date: 2016-08-15 02:11 am (UTC)When she gestured to his tattoos he answered, "A symbol of a great victory my kin had. A very, very long time ago. My kin do not mark themselves like humans do. We do it only when we achieve or accomplish something great."
Also because of their healing ability the process to get a tattoo was far more of a pain than it was for humans so tats merely for decoration were very few and far between. Usually only Queens got them.
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Date: 2016-08-16 01:23 am (UTC)"War boys cut the shapes of engine parts into their flesh," Furiosa says. "As totems. Engines can be fixed. Human bodies are harder to deal with. Mysterious. They hope if they carve spanners or engines onto themselves, they'll be a little more fixable. Last a little longer."
She puts her hand up to touch the brand on the back of her neck. "Thinking some of us will want ink to cover up these, though, before long." She hates that brand, that symbol. She's not sure if it's better or worse that so many others share it.
"Oh, definitely," the Dag says, and displays her tattooed knuckles. "Let me know when you want yours done, Fury. Miss Giddy taught me."
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Date: 2016-08-16 01:49 am (UTC)It took a great deal to leave a Wraith with a scar. Even old ones, with enough feeding, healed up. He'd only met a handful of fellow wraith who'd had been injured beyond healing.
He glanced to the brand on the back of Furiosa's neck. Joe had tried to brand him too, on his shoulder, to mark him as his, but thanks to his healing, it was gone within the first feeding. Still, no less painful.
As the two women spoke to one another, his eyes landed on a large bag near the Dag. Mindful of the rows, he stepped over to it and peered inside. Seeds. Dozens of types, hundreds of each. Where had they gathered so many in such variety?
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Date: 2016-08-16 02:25 am (UTC)Were she aware he'd been branded but healed, she'd be both sympathetic and envious. She'd do a lot to get Joe's mark off of her skin, but even getting it surgically removed from her would leave a scar where it had been. That doesn't strike her as productive. Better to cover it with something better, than to allow the dead Immortan to take one more ounce of flesh and blood from her.
The Dag notes what he's doing before Furiosa does, and reacts much as if he were coming over to peer at a vulnerable infant in her care. She doesn't snatch the bag or push him away, but she does put both hands on it, an unmistakeably possessive gesture. "They're heirlooms," she tells him. "Precious."
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Date: 2016-08-16 02:40 am (UTC)He doesn't touch it nor get any closer to her. Like a mother guarding her young. But he simply nods. "Indeed they are. How'd you come by so many, might I ask?"
If they'd been Joe's, he suspected they wouldn't be carried around like luggage. Had they come across a bunker like his during their flight? Or perhaps the road man Furiosa spoke of had them?
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Date: 2016-08-18 01:09 am (UTC)"When we left the Citadel to escape, we made it all the way out to where my clan, my people, used to live." Furiosa explains for her. "One of our elders had been keeping them for years. Judith, our Seed-Mother. She died in the battle, but...these live on."
She does a subtle grasping gesture in the air and pulls her hand to her sternum. A memorial for the dead, perhaps. The Dag does the same thing, a little warily.
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