saltwaterlungs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saltwaterlungs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-05-10 06:27 pm
saltwaterlungs) wrote in come_sailaway2023-05-10 06:27 pm
You must fix your heart
CHARACTERS: Darcy and probably someone
DATE: it's (already) May
LOCATION: Various
SITUATION: Depressed teenager has a normal time
WARNINGS: None yet!
In this moment, after Fio’s hugged Sparkles and everyone seems to be wrapping up the arguments and the… frankly inexplicable tea table (??? who does that?) Darcy is reminded of how badly she had wanted a threat to be able to punch. Sparkles, another undeserved recipient of begrudging mercy, was not that. All she’s got is adrenaline and pain and potentially some more bruised relationships than she had at the start of the day. So y’know. Tuesday.
She’s already back at her room by the time Skulduggery messages, at her limit of human contact before she disembowels someone, and by the time he arrives she’s doing what she was doing when he texted; which is to say, biting into her arm through her hoodie sleeve to muffle her screaming.
Darcy had been expecting some sort of sense of real triumph when all was said and done. But as it always goes, there's no ticker-tape parade when it's over. The Captain's back, Sparkles is somewhere, her friends are safe, she's… fine. The ship will just go back to business as usual. And she will too, eventually; back to the endless loop of training and more training and different training and finding ways to pass the time in between waiting for… something. What is she even waiting for, now? The excursions aren’t lethal anymore, the most recent threat to the ship has been dealt with, and they still can’t leave and... She’ll get back to it, honestly, it’ll all go back to the way things were, into the comforting rhythm of routine. She just… needs a minute.
Darcy passes out for about a day.
When she drags herself back to consciousness through drool and the pattern of pillow crease pressed into her face, she suddenly remembers her discussion with Ruby; and if she’s lying around feeling bad for herself, she has the time to do it to benefit someone else, so Ruby gets a text that is valiantly attempting to not seem frantic.
Honestly, Darcy kind of worries she’s dreaming when she spots them for the first time. Just like December: the bright gleam of industrial steel, the smell of a kitchen freshly cleaned, a good array of knives. Not amazingly well-stocked, she’ll have to hope the Easter-Erda delivers her some of ingredients or equipment she notices are lacking (seriously, what sort of kitchen doesn’t have a rice cooker or orange oil), but literally anything is better than nothing, and it irritates her to no end that she’s going to have to thank the Captain for it.
So find her;
A) Making a batch of bread-rolls to test out the oven with: in the process of kneading, proofing, or waiting for them to finish baking.
B) Throwing together lunch for herself: cutting up vegetables, kneading pasta dough, reading a book of Christina Rosetti’s poetry while waiting for pasta to finish cooking, whisking a sauce together, and eating by herself on the floor in the corner.
C) Making a bigger meal at dinner to share: peeling potatoes, cooking off onions and garlic, browning meat, doing stretches on the floor while waiting for the food to finish cooking in the oven.
D) Or most commonly between meals: cleaning. Sharpening and washing the knives, wiping down the benchtops, doing the dishes, mopping the floors while levitating a few inches above it. It’s the first taste of real sanity she’s been able to find in… definitely since the labyrinth, probably since she arrived. Do not step on her clean floors or risk getting the mop shoved somewhere delicate.
She imagines that a caged bird being freed feels the same way as she does setting up the treadmill. Darcy is a well-tuned machine that needs to be in motion, which is sufficient motivation to ignore the risk of getting cornered by someone in the gym again (thanks for that anxiety, Clarke,) and actually go to train during the day. Like some sort of animal.
Between the treadmill, deadlifts, one-armed push-ups, rowing machine, and the intensity with which she’s hitting the punching bag, an observer might come to the conclusion that she’s either trying to push past her limits, or run herself ragged. Either way, stay out of her way and off the machine she’s about to use or risk getting scowled at.
(For anything else)
DATE: it's (already) May
LOCATION: Various
SITUATION: Depressed teenager has a normal time
WARNINGS: None yet!
Let our bodies lay, mark our hearts with shame (Skulduggery)
In this moment, after Fio’s hugged Sparkles and everyone seems to be wrapping up the arguments and the… frankly inexplicable tea table (??? who does that?) Darcy is reminded of how badly she had wanted a threat to be able to punch. Sparkles, another undeserved recipient of begrudging mercy, was not that. All she’s got is adrenaline and pain and potentially some more bruised relationships than she had at the start of the day. So y’know. Tuesday.
She’s already back at her room by the time Skulduggery messages, at her limit of human contact before she disembowels someone, and by the time he arrives she’s doing what she was doing when he texted; which is to say, biting into her arm through her hoodie sleeve to muffle her screaming.
Let our blood in vain, you find God in pain (Meta + Ruby)
Darcy had been expecting some sort of sense of real triumph when all was said and done. But as it always goes, there's no ticker-tape parade when it's over. The Captain's back, Sparkles is somewhere, her friends are safe, she's… fine. The ship will just go back to business as usual. And she will too, eventually; back to the endless loop of training and more training and different training and finding ways to pass the time in between waiting for… something. What is she even waiting for, now? The excursions aren’t lethal anymore, the most recent threat to the ship has been dealt with, and they still can’t leave and... She’ll get back to it, honestly, it’ll all go back to the way things were, into the comforting rhythm of routine. She just… needs a minute.
Darcy passes out for about a day.
When she drags herself back to consciousness through drool and the pattern of pillow crease pressed into her face, she suddenly remembers her discussion with Ruby; and if she’s lying around feeling bad for herself, she has the time to do it to benefit someone else, so Ruby gets a text that is valiantly attempting to not seem frantic.
you still up for depression day?Now, if your convictions were a passing phase (Kitchens + OTA)
Honestly, Darcy kind of worries she’s dreaming when she spots them for the first time. Just like December: the bright gleam of industrial steel, the smell of a kitchen freshly cleaned, a good array of knives. Not amazingly well-stocked, she’ll have to hope the Easter-Erda delivers her some of ingredients or equipment she notices are lacking (seriously, what sort of kitchen doesn’t have a rice cooker or orange oil), but literally anything is better than nothing, and it irritates her to no end that she’s going to have to thank the Captain for it.
So find her;
A) Making a batch of bread-rolls to test out the oven with: in the process of kneading, proofing, or waiting for them to finish baking.
B) Throwing together lunch for herself: cutting up vegetables, kneading pasta dough, reading a book of Christina Rosetti’s poetry while waiting for pasta to finish cooking, whisking a sauce together, and eating by herself on the floor in the corner.
C) Making a bigger meal at dinner to share: peeling potatoes, cooking off onions and garlic, browning meat, doing stretches on the floor while waiting for the food to finish cooking in the oven.
D) Or most commonly between meals: cleaning. Sharpening and washing the knives, wiping down the benchtops, doing the dishes, mopping the floors while levitating a few inches above it. It’s the first taste of real sanity she’s been able to find in… definitely since the labyrinth, probably since she arrived. Do not step on her clean floors or risk getting the mop shoved somewhere delicate.
May your ashes feed the river in the morning rays (Gym + OTA)
She imagines that a caged bird being freed feels the same way as she does setting up the treadmill. Darcy is a well-tuned machine that needs to be in motion, which is sufficient motivation to ignore the risk of getting cornered by someone in the gym again (thanks for that anxiety, Clarke,) and actually go to train during the day. Like some sort of animal.
Between the treadmill, deadlifts, one-armed push-ups, rowing machine, and the intensity with which she’s hitting the punching bag, an observer might come to the conclusion that she’s either trying to push past her limits, or run herself ragged. Either way, stay out of her way and off the machine she’s about to use or risk getting scowled at.
Get up, coward. (wildcard)
(For anything else)
no subject
It's one thing to be vaguely aware that someone's fussing somewhere in the kitchen; it's quite another to suddenly hear them yelling at full volume. Rita starts and whirls around, already scowling and a retort on her lips-
And then she sees that it's Darcy and her scowl only deepens, both because of all the baggage surrounding them at this point and because she has no idea why she's being told to leave the kitchen of all places, aside from Darcy just having attitude like usual. You know, unlike Rita, or something.
"What the hell's your problem?! Are you trying to deafen me?" She pointedly rubs an ear with her free hand.
no subject
Darcy snaps her fingers and points to the door again, "fucking out! I swear to God I will do fucking worse than deafening you if you don't take your stupid fucking muffin out of my fucking clean kitchen, I swear to God, I swear to God."
no subject
So, naturally, she stays planted right where she is, pointing at Darcy with the hand holding the muffing and likely sending a few more crumbs flying in the process.
"Are you seriously--crumbs are normal in a kitchen! Don't be so--idiot, it's not even your kitchen! You're not in charge here!"
no subject
no subject
Rita screeches like an angry cat as she gets soaked with the water spray, and like hell she's just going to walk away from this-
So she immediately chucks her now-soggy muffin at Darcy.
"Stop being so damn overdramatic all the time! Do you ever stop?!"
I rolled high for her to dodge it but it's funnier if she gets hit
"Oh you are so dead," she hisses, trying to wipe the damp crumbs away without just smushing them further into her face and her clothes and- ugh- ugh!! That's it!! It has been it and it will continue to be it as she advances on Rita, white-knuckling the mop.
"I am so fucking tired of you talking shit and acting like nobody's ever going to fucking call you on it, ehn- you fucking- you insult whoever you want and what, we all just have to lie there and take it? There's fucking consequences to talking shit, Rita. You were always going to end up fucking punched for it, so thank you for the first good thing you've done in your sad pathetic life for letting me be the one to fucking do it!"
Which is, actually, slightly incorrect. Because Rita doesn't get a punch thrown at her, she gets the mop swung at her head.
love it lmao! also rita rolled 16/20, chaos continues
"Oh, as if you're any better!" Rita makes an angry gesture, clenching her fists. Darcy might be the only person to really ever call her out and retaliate like this, but that doesn't cow her--she could never stand to embarrass herself for running from Darcy. "Always carrying on like--oh, you're so annoying!"
She can't find any better words for this screaming match as Darcy swings the mop; Rita dodges a step backwards: enough to avoid the brunt of the blow, but not enough to avoid getting slapped in the face by damp mop strings, which is somehow even more embarrassing than just getting bowled over.
"Oh, now you're the dead one! Meow!" That last bit is a sigil activation--the only weapon she has on her--which extends a large cat paw from the space just in front of her to swipe horizontally at Darcy. "Do you have any chill at all?! Do you seriously have to get offended over every little thing?!"
(Will either of them ever realize how similar they are...)
11/20! Womp womp poor Darcy
"Do you ever shut the fuck up?! Jade's going to have to identify you by your fucking teeth after I'm done with you, maybe then you'll watch your fucking mouth-" Darcy vanishes from sight, the mop clattering to the floor.
Then suddenly steps back into sight again, in Rita's shadow behind her. Darcy tries to backhand her across the back of her head, too furious to think of any strategy beyond making her hurt or any consequences past the moment.
8/20, she gets some of the wrecking she deserves
Darcy disappears, and Rita huffs angrily, brushing wet hair out of her face. "Running away again?! What a--ow!"
The sudden blow cuts her off; her head snaps forward and she stumbles a step, even as she already starts to whirl around towards Darcy. "Coward," she manages to screech, because she really doesn't ever shut up, and jabs a fist vaguely in the direction of the other girl's gut.
Nat 20, sorry Rita
"Congratufucking lations Rita, you've played enough stupid games to win your stupid fucking prize!"
Darcy aims for her head again. But this time, she's hoping to grab Rita by the hair- enough playing around, she's going to try and smack her face into the countertop.
7, lmao rip (also I'm heading to sleep but what a good disaster thread!!)
And then her face explodes in pain, together with a sickening crack as her nose gets smashed. Rita shrieks in hurt and fury--okay, mostly hurt, because she can't stop tears from flooding her eyes in response. If Darcy lets her go, she'll stumble back to clutch at her bloody face--and if not, she'll try to push off the counter and throw them both back.
"You...you-! Idiot!" She can't come up with any better insults, so Darcy's just going to get a wordless, angry, ineffectual yell.
[Not Here (For Long)]
... ... ...
Yeah Nepeta's just gonna head for the buffet instead.
13, and sleep well this is super fun!!!
She hears that crunch of cartilage like ice-water to her bones. Pushing herself past this point was always the struggle when she had to fight back home. She's been angry enough to bypass it in the past, and fighting for her life was something else but- God she wishes she was just hearing Avery in her ear telling her to show her who the top dog is instead of the disappointed looks of other people who care about her. She needs to do this. This isn't about Darcy, this is revenge for all the shit she's talked to everyone else. Someone needs to do this.
Still, the push backwards- still on the freshly-mopped floor- is enough to dislodge her, and she has to release Rita's hair to keep her balance, grabbing for the countertop.
"You can't stop insulting me long enough to not get your fucking ass beat! You can't do it! What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
11, and same!!
Under different circumstances, she'd be more inventive at best, or dive-tackling Darcy at worst. But now? She gasps sharply from the throbbing pain radiating from the center of her face, only made worse when she experimentally touches her nose. She's beyond furious enough to retaliate...but in too much pain to focus on what little magic she might be able to conjure up. Instead, glowering at Darcy through tear-brimmed eyes, still holding a hand over her face, she goes on the verbal attack.
There's no thought put into the words--no cares about maturity, truthfulness, or logic--there's only a desire to hurt as she starts spitting venom and blood.
"You're an idiot--a coward! Oversensitive, useless--I'm sick of you! You...you undead freak!"
Not rolling bcs it feels like the combat has paused here?
It stings, of course, because part of it is right- Darcy's a live wire wrapped around a raw nerve and she knows it- but worse is the panic that comes from having a problem she can't force a fix for. What can she do? Kill her and make a martyr out of her, risk having the entirety of team mutiny after her worse than they already are? Why can't she solve this by hitting her hard enough?
yes makes sense! on pause...for now
"Don't pretend you--like you haven't just been--waiting for an excuse! Just so you can take out all your--issues, or whatever the hell's wrong with you!" The ugliest of their previous arguments always had someone to intervene. Not this time. This time, it didn't start in a room packed with other passengers, with Darcy's guard dog keeping her on a leash. (As if Rita wouldn't back down for Natsuno, or Jade.) "You throw a tantrum every time I even look at you, don't you?! You fit right in with that jerk captain!"
It's Darcy's fault. Not hers. She's done nothing to apologize for--that's Rita's continued, stubborn belief.
Let's see how long it lasts lmao
Darcy pushes herself back up to standing, sneering down her nose, feeling more like Avery's kid than she ever has.
"Last chance. Get out or I throw you out."
lmao coinflip verdict is...take the L for once in your life, Rita
She's so, so tempted to call Darcy's bluff--even with the knowledge that her threats aren't bluffs any longer--or to go at her again, with fists or magic or more insults. But pain throbs in her face, and as much as this is going to hurt her already-extremely-bruised pride, she does generally have the sense to not stick around for fights she can't win. Even if said fights would have normally been against monsters.
Her glare burns hot and her hand clenches so tight her nails bite into her palm, but at long last, with a noise of disgust, she turns on her heel. Naturally, though--it's not without a parting shot.
"This isn't over," she spits over her shoulder as she heads for the door. "You're dead one of these days, freak." And if Darcy doesn't stop her, she'll head off to lick her wounds. And probably cry in frustration.
Rip Rita, poor thing :c
Then she screams into her sleeve, and rifles through the cupboards for cleaning supplies to get the blood off her damn previously-spotless benchtops.