Drabbletag 6, Mad Max: Fury Road, Cheedo/the Dag, flower
Title: Germinate
Fandom: Mad Max: Fury Road
Pairing: Cheedo/The Dag
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Mad Max: Fury Road, Cheedo/The Dag - flower
Word count: 250
Summary: It isn't the strong that survive.
It isn't the strong that survive.
Cheedo remembers reading that in one of Toast's books, an old one charting the proliferation of now-dead species: not the strong, not the fast, but those that can fit themselves into the cracks of the world and be what it demands.
She thought she understood it then, captive under glass in a beautiful place; it resonated along the same frequency as fear, more constant than hope. Some animals do live still, out on the fringes, small things that hide from the light and sustain themselves on what little there is - and she had been a small thing too, not strong but already good at hiding. So she read that book, and she told herself that even without claws or armored skin, she could survive.
It isn't until the Dag plants her gardens that Cheedo sees the other side of it: their perfect seeds, whole, healthy, adapted to a world that no longer exists.
The first harvest is stunted, sickly; most plants die before they flower, and others bear little yield. The Dag cries to see it, silently, where none but Cheedo can see. And Cheedo holds her tightly, no longer the fragile one, kisses the salt from her skin and tells her about the flowers she saw once at the edge of an oasis - thorny, undistinguished, alive.
"We shape the world," the Dag says, "as it shapes us."
They gather the seeds from the hardiest strains, keep them carefully, prepare to plant again.
Fandom: Mad Max: Fury Road
Pairing: Cheedo/The Dag
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Mad Max: Fury Road, Cheedo/The Dag - flower
Word count: 250
Summary: It isn't the strong that survive.
It isn't the strong that survive.
Cheedo remembers reading that in one of Toast's books, an old one charting the proliferation of now-dead species: not the strong, not the fast, but those that can fit themselves into the cracks of the world and be what it demands.
She thought she understood it then, captive under glass in a beautiful place; it resonated along the same frequency as fear, more constant than hope. Some animals do live still, out on the fringes, small things that hide from the light and sustain themselves on what little there is - and she had been a small thing too, not strong but already good at hiding. So she read that book, and she told herself that even without claws or armored skin, she could survive.
It isn't until the Dag plants her gardens that Cheedo sees the other side of it: their perfect seeds, whole, healthy, adapted to a world that no longer exists.
The first harvest is stunted, sickly; most plants die before they flower, and others bear little yield. The Dag cries to see it, silently, where none but Cheedo can see. And Cheedo holds her tightly, no longer the fragile one, kisses the salt from her skin and tells her about the flowers she saw once at the edge of an oasis - thorny, undistinguished, alive.
"We shape the world," the Dag says, "as it shapes us."
They gather the seeds from the hardiest strains, keep them carefully, prepare to plant again.