Alice "Daisy" Tonner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadnoright) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-02-18 09:15 pm
hadnoright) wrote in come_sailaway2023-02-18 09:15 pm
Entry tags:
- changeling the lost: erin peters,
- critical role: cassandra de rolo,
- don't starve: wilson higgsbury,
- fe3h: dedue molinaro,
- fe3h: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd,
- geist the sin-eaters: darcy lejeune,
- generator rex: césar salazar,
- groundhog day musical: phil connors,
- mcu: ava starr,
- original: valdis,
- sherlock holmes: john watson,
- the magnus archives: daisy tonner,
- the prisoner: number 6
I get the feeling any minute I could break [OPEN & CLOSED]
Who: Daisy Tonner & you!
What: Daisy fucking snaps and gives into the Hunt
When: Closed prompts on February 16th, opens either side
Where: Many places on the ship
Warnings: Graphic violence, people being hunted, death, possible references to police brutality, themes of (supernatural) addiction, (metaphysical) starvation etc.
Notes: Hunt Sense Permissions, what does your character smell like? Feel free to flip me to brackets I am comfortable with either style.
1. I don't wanna need it [OPEN, windjammers, decks, library]
Daisy doesn't go to the carnival.
There's a handful of reasons, ranging from still not trusting excursions not to end in bloodshed to the one person she thinks actually likes her being busy with her girlfriends to just feeling generally like shit. She's so weak these days. Eighteen months without really feeding the Hunt, eight buried alive and six at the Institute and another four on the boat, and she truly feels like she's wasting away. And the worse she feels, the worse her attitude is.
Most of this time she's holed up in her room, but she can still be found ducking out to get food from Windjammers, or wandering the decks to get some fresh air, or dropping by the library to get a book she probably won't even read.
She won't bite if you bother her. But she might glare.
2. But I just can't leave it [CLOSED, headers in comments]
The thing is, of course, that in the end something was always going to have to give. Eighteen months is a long time to starve, even if that starvation is technically metaphysical. Eighteen months is a long time to fight back what is essentially an addiction with no actual treatment. Eighteen months is a long time to spend telling yourself that this is for the best whilst also feeling worse and worse every. Single. Day that goes by without giving in.
Eighteen months is how long it takes for Daisy to finally snap.
There's no one thing that does it. No final push. Nothing besides the gnawing sensation of need and the sound of blood pumping in her ears, in the depths of her mind, in the air all around her.
It's all but out of her hands, after that.
3. I know I went and got complacent [OPEN, cabin 122]
When all is said and done, Daisy feels worse than ever.
Not physically, no. Physically, at least once whatever Valdis did to her wears off, Daisy feels better than she has since before she went into the Buried. She even looks better, no longer so scrawny that she looks malnourished and instead appearing a healthy weight. But mentally?
She feels like the monster that she is. Angry at herself for losing it and hurting people. Disgusted at herself for the way a part of her wants to get right back out there and do it all again. Horrified by her own capacity for violence and harm. Ashamed of being so weak she couldn't stop herself. Exhausted at the idea of going back to letting herself starve. Terrified of the idea of facing the rest of the ship after she gave such a display of Old Cruise Pride. Hopeless in the face of a life she barely even wants to keep living. Absolutely certain that she will never be anything but a monster, because that's all people will see her as.
She's not going anywhere. Erin's probably not going to let you kill her, but she's not going to stop you talking to her. And Daisy doesn't have it in her to tell people to go away, not really.
If you have something to say, come say it.
4. But I know that I can save this [wildcard]
Find me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
bluecitrine or at artisticblueteam#5757/in the discord.
What: Daisy fucking snaps and gives into the Hunt
When: Closed prompts on February 16th, opens either side
Where: Many places on the ship
Warnings: Graphic violence, people being hunted, death, possible references to police brutality, themes of (supernatural) addiction, (metaphysical) starvation etc.
Notes: Hunt Sense Permissions, what does your character smell like? Feel free to flip me to brackets I am comfortable with either style.
1. I don't wanna need it [OPEN, windjammers, decks, library]
Daisy doesn't go to the carnival.
There's a handful of reasons, ranging from still not trusting excursions not to end in bloodshed to the one person she thinks actually likes her being busy with her girlfriends to just feeling generally like shit. She's so weak these days. Eighteen months without really feeding the Hunt, eight buried alive and six at the Institute and another four on the boat, and she truly feels like she's wasting away. And the worse she feels, the worse her attitude is.
Most of this time she's holed up in her room, but she can still be found ducking out to get food from Windjammers, or wandering the decks to get some fresh air, or dropping by the library to get a book she probably won't even read.
She won't bite if you bother her. But she might glare.
2. But I just can't leave it [CLOSED, headers in comments]
The thing is, of course, that in the end something was always going to have to give. Eighteen months is a long time to starve, even if that starvation is technically metaphysical. Eighteen months is a long time to fight back what is essentially an addiction with no actual treatment. Eighteen months is a long time to spend telling yourself that this is for the best whilst also feeling worse and worse every. Single. Day that goes by without giving in.
Eighteen months is how long it takes for Daisy to finally snap.
There's no one thing that does it. No final push. Nothing besides the gnawing sensation of need and the sound of blood pumping in her ears, in the depths of her mind, in the air all around her.
It's all but out of her hands, after that.
3. I know I went and got complacent [OPEN, cabin 122]
When all is said and done, Daisy feels worse than ever.
Not physically, no. Physically, at least once whatever Valdis did to her wears off, Daisy feels better than she has since before she went into the Buried. She even looks better, no longer so scrawny that she looks malnourished and instead appearing a healthy weight. But mentally?
She feels like the monster that she is. Angry at herself for losing it and hurting people. Disgusted at herself for the way a part of her wants to get right back out there and do it all again. Horrified by her own capacity for violence and harm. Ashamed of being so weak she couldn't stop herself. Exhausted at the idea of going back to letting herself starve. Terrified of the idea of facing the rest of the ship after she gave such a display of Old Cruise Pride. Hopeless in the face of a life she barely even wants to keep living. Absolutely certain that she will never be anything but a monster, because that's all people will see her as.
She's not going anywhere. Erin's probably not going to let you kill her, but she's not going to stop you talking to her. And Daisy doesn't have it in her to tell people to go away, not really.
If you have something to say, come say it.
4. But I know that I can save this [wildcard]
Find me at
no subject
Sigh. God. Fuck it, fuck this, he’s too tired to have any tact. He just got his face clawed off. Everyone should leave him alone forever. (Well, it’s nice knowing they care.)
“You? I’m mad at you because you’re too good. You’re so much better than me. Do you get that at all? Do you understand that I’m proud of you? Do you understand you’re why I started carrying a sword?”
One second, he’s getting dizzy. It’s too damn bright in here. “… I wish you’d be just a little bit more selfish. I wish you knew when to tag out. Your sense of duty is so good. Work is love, it’s good. Burning isn’t.” Hh. “You’d cut your own heart out if that’s what it took to do it by yourself. You don’t have to. I feel like I’m going to lose you somehow, and it’ll be your fault. And mine.”
no subject
clicks into place.
Scooping her up out of danger with the zombies and the truck. The jabs. Annoying her with fairground food. Asking what's going on with Skulduggery.
Darcy would be the first to admit that she has terrible emotional awareness, that was always the realm of her Geist's expertise, but finally connecting the dots that she's important to someone always feels like a bucket of ice water over her head.
Nothing that lives, lives alone or for itself.
He's proud of her. He took up the sword because of her. He's scared he'll lose her.
Darcy leans her head against the bed, "you won't. You're not going to lose me. And I'm not better than anybody. But if not me, then who?"
no subject
I will, answers something very quiet in him, barely a whisper behind his eyes. Because even if it won't be her own fault, Phil has never gotten to keep the company he makes. His chest is hollow for all the room he made for people who aren't here. He will.
He's got to make it count.
"It's going to be you whether it's needed or not, because you're always going to involve yourself. I'm just saying it doesn't have to be only you. Most annoying thing I ever learned: people want to help. They will if you let them. They won't if you never ask. Even if you don't want all of them fighting and in danger, they've got brains. They've got hands. They've got skills."
He reaches out a hand to cup her cheek, thumb moving over the fuzz of her shaved head. "Maybe not all of them will want to help you, but some will. I do. It's what we're made for. The pitcher cries for water to carry, / and a person for work that is real."
no subject
Rita. Johnny and the guy with the sunglasses. All had stood in between herself and Phil and the ground. Why didn't anyone help this time? Maeve did. Tendi. He's still here.
"He has placed mercy and compassion between people," she repeats. The question is whether she can believe it herself.
no subject
“… I did get one good thing out of this,” he murmurs after a time. He opens both of his eyes. “She made me look cooler.”
(He doesn’t actually… like it very much, concerned about his appearance as he is, but he figured he’d let her know about this with a joke that wasn’t depressing.)
no subject
"... so long as you like it," she offers, trying not to dunk on a man who just nearly died.
no subject
If she isn’t going to dunk on him, he’ll do it for her.
“I can’t believe I’m getting cataracts in my 40s.”
no subject
"Does it hurt?" she asks, "can you still see through it, or?"
no subject