#fivewivesweek

[uponthewholeearth-silver]

“... the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.”

Day 7: Free day - Furiosa

[furiroad]

Fleeting is the first to try to back out. Bright Eye knew she would– knows when nervousness is about to hit her. She grows steadily more and more quiet the more her anxiousness swells, until she can't stand it any more: her outburst comes right on time, as they are placing the candles.

"Is this really a good idea?" "Yes," Bright Eye insists, twisting the candles down into the sand so they won't fall over. It's very dark now, but the sky is open and the moon is bright, illuminating their work. Fleeting has a torch in one hand, and a handful of her skirt in the other, and it's easy to see she is trying to think of a reason to go back to the Citadel. "Are you going to help?" Tuscany says, and snatches the torch from her. She passes it to Redamency, who takes it without a word. "We aren't supposed to be out here," Fleeting tries, her hands balling up into her linens, "We'll get in trouble!" "Nest is on lookout tonight," Bright Eye reminds her, and hands her a candle. "She'll cover for us."

They plant the remaining candles in nervous silence. Bright Eye can't keep herself from smiling. The night is cold but there is a warm electricity sparking within her at the thought of what they're about to do. "How do you even know about this?" Fleeting says, pushing the last candle into place reluctantly, "I thought nobody did this kind of stuff any more." "They don't," Bright Eye says, "But they should." "They should," echoes Sharpener, speaking up suddenly. "Mum still invokes the Saints. Why shouldn't we?" "Because they're not real, cog for brains." "Are too." "Are not," Tuscany insists, "You know how Bright Eye gets. She probably read it in a book somewhere." "My grandmother owned that book. She got it from her mother, who got it from her mother, who got it from the Mothers." "Bullshit." "Truth! Ask her if you like. Her mother was a history woman, had the story on her shins." "You're such a dag, Eye." "Don't take her name in vain," Redamency snaps, and turns off the torch.

They stand there in silence for a long moment, squinting at each other in the dark. "Bugger it," Tuscany mutters, and folds her arms. "Okay. What do we do, then?" "We light the candles," Bright Eye says after a moment's careful pause, and pulls a lighter out of her pocket. She tosses it to Sharpener, who drops to a crouch and starts to light. They pass it silently to one another until the entire circle is lit. The group is somber, now. Bright Eye digs her toes into the sand and takes Sharpener's hand in hers.

"You know the names," she says, looking meaningfully about the circle at her sisters. They nod in return. Tuscany unfolds her arms, stands up a little straighter. "We'll call them, one at a time." "Are we going to ask them for something?" Sharpener's voice is small, but curious. "Yes," Bright Eye says firmly, "They lived and died to protect us, you know. To keep us from Before. They love us. I think we should ask for a blessing." "Who's first?" says Fleeting, and reaches for Tuscany's hand. One by one they slowly link, until they mirror the circle of candles in the sand. "I'll go," says Redamency, and feels Sharpener squeeze her hand in response.

The wind is still when she starts to speak. "Hail to the Guardian," she calls, and sees Bright Eye's mouth curl into a helpless, excited smile across the circle, "To the Saint of Ingenuity. Cheedo, the Fragile, the Fierce, the Forgiving. Daughter of Deception and the Drive. My sisters and I invoke you from the heart of the Mothers. Hear my call, and come."

Tuscany mouths show off at her from Fleeting's right, but Bright Eye looks fit to burst, her face childlike and joyful in the half-light.

"Hail to the Mother," Tuscany recites, after a moment's pause. "The Saint of the Seed. Dag, the Daring, the Defiant, Daughter of the Wind and the Wings. My sisters and I invoke you from the earth of the Green Place. Hear my call, and come."

"Hail to the Leader," Sharpener stutters, eyes closed as she concentrates, "The Saint of Tenacity. Toast the Knowing, the Keen, Daughter of the Bullet and the Bearings. Um– my sisters and I invoke you from the wind over the Citadel. Hear my call, and come."

The uncertanty has died in Fleeting as she opens her mouth. There is something about the way Bright Eye looks steadily at her that makes her feel safe. Something about the way the night air has stilled, how she can hear her sisters breathing slow and in time. The candles flicker as she begins her part.

"Hail to the Guider, the Saint of Selflessness. Capable the Carer, the Courageous, Daughter of the Moon and the Musing. My sisters and I invoke you from the stars in the sky above. Hear my call, and come."

They all look at Bright Eye. She is the last to speak. She is suddenly silent and serious, drawn straight like a thunderstick at the head of the circle.

"Hail to the Deliverer," she says, and Redamency shivers at the sound of her voice. "The Saint of the Words. Angharad the Saviour, the Scarred, the Eternal Sister. Daughter of the Fury and the Faith. My sisters and I invoke you from the sands of the Wastes. Hear my call, and come."

Her next words are a hissing whisper, of a phrase from long ago. "We are not things."

"We are not things," Redamency murmurs, and her sisters follow suit, squeezing each other's hands and shuffling in place. The Wastes are silent. They bow their heads together and stand like that for a long moment, hand in hand and deep in thought.

The sudden gust of wind that blows every candle out makes Fleeting shriek.

They break the spell with laughter, as Fleeting's ears go red. It is Tuscany's idea to leave the candles sitting in the sand as an offering. They also leave behind their bond, kissing each other upon the cheek one at a time before they let go of each other's hands. They are awestruck and giddy as they pile into Sharpener's Hummer, chatting in low whispers and giggling in the back seat as they take what remains of the Fury Road back to the Citadel.

Only Bright Eye doesn't chat. She pillows her head upon Redamency's shoulder and closes her eyes, mouth curled at the corners in satisfaction.  

Up above the stars, the Saints notice, and smile.

[uponthewholeearth-silver]

“You kill people with that, do ya?”

“Killed everyone I ever met out here. Headshots. All of them. Snap—right in the medulla.”

Day 7: Free day - Keeper of the Seeds & Dag

[uponthewholeearth-silver]

“I am one of the Vuvalini. Of the Many Mothers.”

Day 7: Free day

[agentbreedlove]

Not without them

[thewingedwolf]

OK so I figured I’d give the sisters a House because why not

Angharad - I would say she is House Oakheart, whose words are “Our Roots Go Deep.” My feelings for that hinge on her words, on the fact that her resolve to save them all and  her words stay with them after she dies. Also she just gives me all of these immortal through stories vibes? As in even if all the other sisters are forgotten, Angharad’s words will stay long after they’ve all gone and that really brings to mind nature and trees so. 

Capable - House Tully for suuuuuuuuuuure. I mean, “Family, Duty, Honor” fights her super well, she’s so maternal and gentle and kind and she does whatever is needed to help out. Mostly though, she reminds me of something Brienne said about Catelyn, where she said Catekyn had a “woman’s strength.” Capable can definitely hold her own in a fight but a lot of her strength in the movie comes from her compassion. If it was anyone else with Nux, they would have thrown him out the rig but all she saw was a boy who needed help and so she gave him affection and that is definitely what Brienne meant by a woman’s strength.

Toast - House Baratheon, “Ours Is The Fury” because on the rare occasions that we see her show genuine emotion, there’s A LOT of pent up anger, more so than with the rest of the sisters. Add the fact that her big, sort of defining moments are her forcefully driving the point home that she is angry - her spitting on Joe, her acting unfazed when Max points the gun at her, and her “don’t damage the goods” line - makes me feel that the Baratheons fight her best. 

The Dag - House Crakehall, whose words are “None So Fierce.” Of all the sisters, she’s definitely the one most obviously affected (except maaaaaybe Angharad) by the abuse they suffered and it in turn makes her very sharp. Her movements are awkward and sharp, her words are meant to cut right to the heart of the matter even if her language is a lot more flowery than the rest, and she’s definitely the most physically violent of the group. I mean she freaking /bites/ Nux. So yeah definitely Crakehall. 

Cheedo - House Tyrell, “Growing Strong” because Cheedo fits that sort of, I’m nice and I want to help you but I’m also very good at playing the game and getting what I want type that the Tyrells fit. The obvious example of this being her scene tricking Rictus, but there is definitely something there in her painting herself up to fit Joe’s ideal (albeit in a really upsetting way) that reminds me of Margaery sort of molding herself to fit whatever her current fiancé desires most. 

BONUS FURIOSA = “Righteous in Wrath” aka House Hornwood because duh

[wanderingnork]

Ásynjur: Furiosa

Skadi: A great huntress and a warrior who stands beside the gods, but is not one of them.

She’s nothing like the sisters. She doesn’t belong in the upper tiers, where the gods walk the earth. She’s nothing like the War Boys. She doesn’t belong in the Pits, where dead men go to die.

“You’re an Imperator,” Cheedo says stiffly.

“At least you haven’t got a schlanger,” the Dag says cheerfully.

“You’re Furiosa,” Toast says.

“You can be whatever you want,” Capable says.

Furiosa still has no idea who she is.

She’s still angry at Max. The Fool left her behind, even though there was something green growing between them. He went back to the Wasteland, back to the sand and the crows where Furiosa doesn’t belong, and left her here in the Citadel where she is supposed to belong. Yet those days on the Rig with the Fool and the sisters changed her so much that she no longer belongs here at the Citadel, either. It enrages her.

Some part of her still longs to ride out, chrome-mouthed and reaching for the sun, because that was easier. But she was never happy doing that either, and she can’t do it anymore anyway.

As the women of the Citadel build new lives, Furiosa still can’t find her way. She encourages the Council to compromise, but she never knows what to say about important things. She leads the War Boys out to defend the Citadel, but off the field they no longer treat her as their Imperator. Furiosa realize, to her deep shock, that she’s lonely. She doesn’t belong here anymore, and maybe never did.

She takes food and stores it in a car that no one else wants. She fills boxes with bullets, straps canisters of water into the backseat. Medical supplies, tools, spare clothes, all sit beside her. She’ll seek out whatever she’s lost on the Fury Road.

She thought she was secretive, but on the morning she departs, Furiosa finds the sisters by the car. Before she can speak, Cheedo cuts in. “You can’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Take it,” Toast says roughly, and Furiosa finds Toast’s own wheel in her hand. The small woman scowls back tears, and Furiosa slaps her shoulder.

Capable ties a red scarf around Furiosa’s neck and kisses her cheek. “Stay safe,” she says. All Furiosa can do is press her forehead against the woman’s.

“Plant ’em somewhere good,” the Dag says brusquely, shoving a satchel of seeds at Furiosa. She smiles when Furiosa takes it.

Abruptly Cheedo loses her regal restraint and flings her arms around Furiosa. “Please come back someday,” she cries. Furiosa rubs her shoulders in silence.

“You’re one of us,” Capable says, mouth wobbling.

The Dag shrugs. “You’re our sister.”

“Yeah,” Toast says.

Furiosa lets go of Cheedo and surveys the women. She nods, not trusting herself to speak, and performs the Vuvalini gesture of goodbye. They do the same.

Then Furiosa drives away. She glances back once, when the Citadel is just a shadowy mirage behind her, and thinks, I’ll belong with them someday.

My sisters.

[wonkeyball]

Drew these two for #fivewivesweek!! I missed their individual days, so I’m posting on free day.