saltwaterlungs (
saltwaterlungs) wrote in
come_sailaway2023-05-10 06:27 pm
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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
A vague hand gesture, "a boar-lion-chimera thing. I mean- usually it's just one or the other, boar or lion, but I don't know, maybe he was stressed and got kinda stuck together, I didn't ask. A lot of us seem to be able to turn into animals here. I got a cloak a while back so I can turn into a bird."
And one to turn into a horse, but that was a deeply harrowing experience she has no interest in repeating.
no subject
"Wow. He has two animal forms? That's lucky. I can just do the dog-wolf one. Being a bird sounds so cool though! Does the cloak hurt when you use it?" Max's transformation hurts but he's learned to live with it.
no subject
"No? Why would it hurt?" she asks, trying to immediately change the subject, "ehn, it's just kind of... like putting on clothes. And then I'm a bird. It's cool- I turn into a peregrine falcon and they're, like, the fastest birds on earth. But like, I don't use it much or anything. Feels weird. And I don't like being able to be picked up," thanks, Peter.
no subject
"Oh, my transformation hurts. But I don't have a cloak so that's probably why." He shrugs it off. A little pain is no big deal. "I love using mine, but being a dog is different. People can still pick me up, but they'd need both hands, ha. The only problem is I don't have any pockets so I never know what what to do with my phone."
no subject
That feels like it should be horrifying on her part that that's how hers works, but Kael back home routinely stored guns inside his chest cavity, so her tolerance for that sort of body horror is much higher- especially since she doesn't feel her items when she's in falcon form.
"Maybe someone could make you like. A dog jacket. So you can have pockets while you're a dog."
no subject
"See, that's what I was telling Helena. I need, like, a doggy purse to strap around my neck or something. Do you know anyone that's good at sewing?"
no subject
Magic explains everything that she doesn't want to work out for herself!
"Do I- actually!" Darcy snaps her fingers, "Okie! Don't know if you've met him, built like a brick, he runs the cowboy craft corner uh... sometimes. I think there's posters up for it? No idea, but he sews really well I think. From what I've seen. Plus he's pretty nice, I think you'd like him. He's literally a cowboy, so."
no subject
"Okie... hm. You know I don't think I've actually had the chance yet. But I know who you mean. He does have the best cowboy vibes. I'll make sure and say hello next time he's got his crafts out. You're never going to believe this but I actually used to dress a little like a cowboy when I was younger. Flannel shirts, jeans, boots, the works. I wore a bolo tie to prom and everything. It was my dad's."
no subject
Geist is a game about body horror."Huh. To be honest I didn't think anyone actually did before I met Okie. I thought it was, like, one of those stereotypes made up to make fun of Americans. Like Groundhog Day. But then I found out that was real, too."
no subject
"So... kind of like how everyone associates French people with wearing berets and horizontal stripes?" ...okay, so maybe that might be fair. Still surprising. Half the people that went to his school wore that stuff. A lot of them had actual farms to go home to.
"Groundhog day is uh... I mean, it's a little underwhelming as far as holidays go so I don't really blame you for that one."
no subject
"Yeah, like that. I knew like... one person ever who actually wore berets, ever, and it wasn't a French thing- I mean, she was French, but she was really into Japanese fashion, and they wear berets because they think they're a French thing, so."
Funny how that circles around.
She doesn't want to specify that she was actually there for one groundhog day, because that's Phil's shit and she's not talking about shit that happens in memories, so.
"Point is, I kind of assume that I'm wrong about everywhere outside of France and scale back my shit, like, sixty percent from what I first think. Usually, anyway. Generally with the stuff that seems too wild to be true. Like cowboys."
All of which kind of side-stepping around the fact that she has previously called Americans annoying as a generalization and will do so again.
no subject
"Technically there is a difference between a country boy and a cowboy. I was a country boy, but I didn't actually live on a farm. My dad owned a car repair shop. Never ridden a horse in my life."
He wouldn't even really disagree that Americans can be annoying. He's been a bad tourist before and he knows it.
no subject
Because by that definition, "that makes me more of a cowboy than you are. I mean- I didn't live on a farm, but my Aunt had- has a pig farm. For holidays and shit I had to visit and help out. Never rode a horse though. My cousin had a birthday party with a horse there one time and one bit me, so. Don't trust them. Weird mouths."
A shrug, "but I guess there's, like, different associations with it. Nobody thinks farmers in France are cool. Well- I mean, we like fresh produce and we're pretentious as shit about terroire, but nobody's making films about les bouseux or anything."
no subject
"Sometimes it's about a state of mind. Or, that's what I heard a lot from the kids who actually were. There really is a whole culture around it. You can blame Hollywood for some of it. But not all." A lot of the point of being a Cowboy is to be the opposite of pretentious, really.
"But I'd happily call you an honorary cowboy," Max says, nudging her with his elbow.
no subject
If anything not knowing what it is sets her mind to work on what the fuck 'floating' a horse's teeth would even look like. Can their teeth be removed from their heads and go back in??? Is that it??? Good god.
"I appreciate it. But also no. Absolutely not." Sorry, Max.
no subject
"Eh, no skin off my nose. Besides, you're more of a knight than a cowboy. I've seen how good you are with a sword."
no subject
"Yeah, I sure am," she's oathed to a future king and all, "I'm sure you could become the ship's cowboy if you stoke Okie's hat though. I think that's how it works."
no subject
no subject
What can Darcy say, she steals hats. A hat-stealer. No hat is safe.
"Who's Josiah?"
no subject
"Oh, Josiah is my master's second in command at home. He's in charge of security, but he was also my martial arts and fitness trainer. And, bodyguard, I guess."
Wrap up soon?
"Huh."
...
"Did he ever kick someone's ass in cowboy boots?"
yeah :)
"But, the thing is, they belonged to someone really close to him who died, so he wears them as a tribute. And God help you if you make a joke about it. That's how most people get their asses kicked by him."