#cadeplays

[bugger-me-d-e-a-d]

I’M BACK.

Exams are done, I’m resettled in school, Wintersday is over on GW2 so I have nothing to farm, and I HAD SUCH A MAD MAX CHRISTMAS! I got a “What a lovely day” sweater and the movieeeeee (yes thank you my amazing little sister) and then a friend bought me the game that I still need to start! 

Happy post-holidays everybody!

[bugger-me-d-e-a-d]

"look at me. just look at me and stay awake. can you do that?"

She blinked wearily. Her eyes remained unfocused, though she turned her face towards the wanderer. What had happened? Did she trigger one of the traps? Who was this stranger. And why was it growing increasingly harder to keep her eyes open. “C’n try…” she slurred quietly, fingers twitching at her side.((Idk, maybe she triggered a trap. Blew a leg off or something. Run with it!))

[bugger-me-d-e-a-d]

“You belong to me.” //Eyy Have a possessive Imperator.

Cademya turned around abruptly, facing the taller woman with a wary gaze. “E-em... pardon me?” she responded, lifting her chin and trying to hide her growing uncertainty.

[bugger-me-d-e-a-d]

🐛

While Cade’s biggest fear is losing family/friends, a huge secondary fear is getting pregnant. Don’t get her wrong -- she loves kids! But her mom always told her it was wrong to bring babies into this dead world, and she has always just abided by that.

[bugger-me-d-e-a-d]

🐛

Cade’s afraid of a lot, actually, but the biggest fear she has is losing her family again. She watched her mother get killed by Rock Riders and has always assumed the same happened to her father, and so she’s always afraid of the new family she’s got with the Rocklizards getting taken away or killed by raiders. She would do anything to prevent that.

[bugger-me-d-e-a-d]

❤ ✮⌨

Thanks for the question! I’m actually really excited for this; it seems like a lot of fun!

❤ Voice

So Cademya is actually a port from my GW2 sylvari character, so the original voice that I attached to her doesn’t make so much sense anymore! (The lovely Janet Devlin’s Irish accent doesn’t exactly mesh well with the Mad Max Australians!) With that in mind, I’d still say a lot of the qualities of her voice are the same. She tends to speak a little more softly, and almost always hesitantly, and there is a lot of sheepish and/or awkward giggle-snorts thrown in there. There is a deep and trembling quality to her voice that makes her come off as a little frightened most of the time, or on the verge of tears (be them joyous or otherwise). When she sings (and the girl can sing!) her voice has a sort of breathy quality, her accent (now Australian, as much as I adore the Irish) remaining fairly prominent as she sings.

✮ Sleeping habits

Sleeping habits! Cademya’s actually very peculiar about sleep. She gets terrible nightmares when left to sleep alone so she often doesn’t. If she’s sleeping alone she’s probably not sleeping but unconscious because being honest, she’s nearly slept-walked out of a cave and gone splat because of night terrors. So if she isn’t unconscious against her will, she’s snuggling up against somebody else. It doesn’t matter if you’re scary, smelly, or fidgety she will attach herself to your back or chest and snuggle into you until you wake up. She doesn’t move much when sleeping with others, aside from to accommodate for any movements they might make, and is very slow to wake herself; she’ll be drowsy and disoriented usually for about an hour to an hour and a half after waking up. She tries to get at least a few hours of sleep every night.

⌨ Time-wasting habits

Cademya is a sucker for water. She loooves swimming. If she has time to kill after the sun has gone down it’s almost guaranteed she’s down in the salt-water creek that runs through their neck of the canyon, or down in the cave they’ve converted into a massive sort of bath house (any excess water is boiled and used for cleaning, or heated and used for soaking). During the day she wastes time making playthings out of stones or scraps for the children or lounging about, daydreaming, in the shade.

[bugger-me-d-e-a-d]

✍ — a memory of their mother

Mother and daughter sat across from each other, cross legged and hiding away from the beating sun in the shade of a large rock.

“Why couldn’t I go with Papa, Mama?”

“Because.”

“What did Papa mean? Am I really worth three whole jugs of water?”

“Cademya—”

“But Mama, you tell me all the time that I shouldn’t have babies!”

“Cademya, that is enough.”

“Would Mama and papa really be happier if I went taken away?”

The sound of flesh coming into contact with flesh rang crisply across the endless sands. Cademya pressed her hand against the side of her face, tinted and stinging, tears welling in her wide eyes as Winter, her mother, looked furiously down on her.

“Don’t you say that! Don’t you ever say that again! Your father is—” the loud shout was cut off by a wet, painful cough. “Your father is desperate. He doesn’t mean it, either,” Winter managed to choke out through her coughs, hunched over as she struggled to breathe through her polluted lungs. Despite her own pain Cademya moved forwards, rubbing both hands over her mothers sun-scarred back to try to ease her burden.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she whimpered, pulling one hand back to rub at her eyes. “I’m sorry! Don’t be angry… I don’t want you to get sick again… don’t get sick again.”

“I’m okay, baby. I’ll be okay. I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have hit you, I…” she fell quiet as a distant whine of bike engines began to sound from the East. Her eyes turned towards it. “Cademya, grab your bag.”

“Mama?”

“Grab your bag, we need to go.”

“What about Papa?”

“He’ll catch up! Quickly, quickly, Cademya, come on—”

The bikes were drawing nearer and the whistling breaths from Winter grew heavier and with another glance over her shoulder she came to resolution. Turning Cademya around so she could face her, Winter placed both hands on her young daughter’s shoulders.

“Tell me your name, Baby.”

“Cademya… Mama, what’s wrong?”

“And what are you?”

“I’m Mama’s special girl — Mama, you know this! What are you saying?”

“We’re going to play hide and seek, okay? You need to go and hide and, no matter what you hear, you’re not allowed to come out, okay? Show Mama how good you are at hiding.”

“Mama, I’m scared… I don’t wanna play! Mama, I don’t wanna play right now!”

“Cademya, go!” The urgency in Winter’s shout was enough to make the five year old flinch back. Before she understood what was happening her mother’s bone dagger (“don’t touch that, Cademya, it’s dangerous!” she’d been told so many times before — she had no idea how to deal with it now) and was being shoved off towards the nearby wall of stone. “Go now, quickly! Don’t look back, just run!”

Cademya did run. She ran and ran until she came to the rock face, and she could hear the shouts and whoops behind her but was too afraid to look back. Crashing into the side of the cliff she began to squirm, pushing herself into a tight crevice. She barely fit — the rough stone opened scrapes on her cheeks and palms and jagged rocks tore through the burlap dress her mother had made years before. It was getting short on her, she distractedly realized as her calves and knees rubbed up against rock. I have to ask Mama to make her another, or make it longer. Just as she reached a point where she could no longer fit back, turning her head to look out towards opening and expecting to see her mother close behind, a muted “pop pop pop” rang out. She saw more than just one figure up on the dune, near the rock where she’d been sitting. None looked particularly like her mother — that lump on the ground was a sack, right? She began to shake, one hand pointing the dagger tip towards the opening the other clasped over her mouth as hiccoughs rose in her throat. She had to be the best hider — she couldn’t be heard.

I have to be the best hider, until Mama comes to find me.