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_sailaway2023-05-15 12:30 am
hadnoright) wrote in come_sailaway2023-05-15 12:30 am
My bad habits don't heal [OPEN]
Who: Daisy Tonner & you!
What: Daisy's... dealing?
When: May???
Where: Various places around the ship
Warnings: Mild passive suicidal thoughts, possible references to police brutality, possible poor attitude towards other non-humans/left-of-human types, others added in subject lines
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'm coming down with something [Laundry Room]
Daisy is sat on top of one of the machines. It's running. Sometimes, so is the tape recorder that sits next to her. She doesn't turn off the tape if people come in. No one will be able to understand it well enough for it to matter. The audio that floats out of the speaker is, frankly, nearly unintelligible; it's distorted horribly, and even what little sense you can make of the contents doesn't actually make sense out of context. The sound of growling and gore and Daisy laughing manically. Questions like 'do you even know what a hand is?'. Strange, unnatural voices. An explosion.
The Unknowing made no more sense from the inside than it does out of it, but Daisy keeps playing it over and over anyway. Sometimes, she rewinds and replays one part a few times in a row: Her own growling and laughter, the sound of a creaking hinge, and an exaggerated cockney accent saying: "Almost a shame you don’t know your own coffin. But you will. You will."
If the trend continues, she knows which tape will come next. After that... after that she's not sure.
Should you walk in at the end of a wash cycle, you might find her pulling out sopping wet and yet still inexplicably filthy clothes. A practical t-shirt and jeans, a jacket, even some old trainers. Caked in dirt. With a frustrated growl, Daisy throws them back into the machine and starts another wash cycle.
2. I lost my own respect [Stan the Man]
The bars are back the way they used to be.
Stan the Man, Rainbow Renly, Bobby B's. It's not like she'd ever really got used to calling them by the bastardisations of Jenny's brothers names—old habits die hard, and all that—but it's still weird to see the change. Feels like being back on her first cruise again, but she isn't.
She's the only one left who ever was, now. The only one who remembers what it was like. Even Jenny's off, reunited with her brothers (and oh doesn't that sting, when Daisy still remembers watching Basira die before Jenny got her too?). She doubts there will ever be anyone else, not after all the hourglasses got smashed. How many souls from her voyage are still down there? How many of them were finally set free?
Why is she the only one left when she wanted nothing more than to be done with it all?
For the first time since she reappeared on the boat, when Daisy takes a seat inHurikane Stan's she orders actual alcohol and starts drinking. It won't get her drunk, not unless she really pushes it, but it's just that kind of month.
3. My hands, they wander off [Calgona Spa]
Daisy is painting her claws.
They can look like a particularly sharp manicure at a glance already, and painting them in pastels, brights, iridescents, even adding patterns (especially, predictably, daisies) is a habit she developed after they became prominent. Part of that front of hers, the soft, pretty things layered over strength and violence. A way to draw attention away from the little inhuman things that piled up over time, make her look and feel more human.
So maybe it says something about how she's feeling that she's in and out of the spa changing the varnish every few days, this month.
Anyone who comes in at the same time will get a passing look and maybe a wave of wiggling fingers, flashing the claws. "Don't worry. Won't be any slashing from me until they're done drying."
It's a very dry joke. Perhaps an inadvisable joke, but a joke nonetheless.
4. I'm not afraid of death [Pool Deck]
Daisy is floating in the pool in a tankini. She's staring up at the sky, or, occasionally, lying on her front staring at the bottom of the pool in a way that might look just a little bit concerning to a passer-by. It's fine, she technically doesn't need to breathe, it's just more comfortable to.
Still means she's sometimes lying face down in the pool though.
5. I'm just afraid of feeling numb [wildcard]
Find me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
bluecitrine or at artisticblueteam#5757/in the discord, or just throw something at her.
What: Daisy's... dealing?
When: May???
Where: Various places around the ship
Warnings: Mild passive suicidal thoughts, possible references to police brutality, possible poor attitude towards other non-humans/left-of-human types, others added in subject lines
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'm coming down with something [Laundry Room]
Daisy is sat on top of one of the machines. It's running. Sometimes, so is the tape recorder that sits next to her. She doesn't turn off the tape if people come in. No one will be able to understand it well enough for it to matter. The audio that floats out of the speaker is, frankly, nearly unintelligible; it's distorted horribly, and even what little sense you can make of the contents doesn't actually make sense out of context. The sound of growling and gore and Daisy laughing manically. Questions like 'do you even know what a hand is?'. Strange, unnatural voices. An explosion.
The Unknowing made no more sense from the inside than it does out of it, but Daisy keeps playing it over and over anyway. Sometimes, she rewinds and replays one part a few times in a row: Her own growling and laughter, the sound of a creaking hinge, and an exaggerated cockney accent saying: "Almost a shame you don’t know your own coffin. But you will. You will."
If the trend continues, she knows which tape will come next. After that... after that she's not sure.
Should you walk in at the end of a wash cycle, you might find her pulling out sopping wet and yet still inexplicably filthy clothes. A practical t-shirt and jeans, a jacket, even some old trainers. Caked in dirt. With a frustrated growl, Daisy throws them back into the machine and starts another wash cycle.
2. I lost my own respect [Stan the Man]
The bars are back the way they used to be.
Stan the Man, Rainbow Renly, Bobby B's. It's not like she'd ever really got used to calling them by the bastardisations of Jenny's brothers names—old habits die hard, and all that—but it's still weird to see the change. Feels like being back on her first cruise again, but she isn't.
She's the only one left who ever was, now. The only one who remembers what it was like. Even Jenny's off, reunited with her brothers (and oh doesn't that sting, when Daisy still remembers watching Basira die before Jenny got her too?). She doubts there will ever be anyone else, not after all the hourglasses got smashed. How many souls from her voyage are still down there? How many of them were finally set free?
Why is she the only one left when she wanted nothing more than to be done with it all?
For the first time since she reappeared on the boat, when Daisy takes a seat in
3. My hands, they wander off [Calgona Spa]
Daisy is painting her claws.
They can look like a particularly sharp manicure at a glance already, and painting them in pastels, brights, iridescents, even adding patterns (especially, predictably, daisies) is a habit she developed after they became prominent. Part of that front of hers, the soft, pretty things layered over strength and violence. A way to draw attention away from the little inhuman things that piled up over time, make her look and feel more human.
So maybe it says something about how she's feeling that she's in and out of the spa changing the varnish every few days, this month.
Anyone who comes in at the same time will get a passing look and maybe a wave of wiggling fingers, flashing the claws. "Don't worry. Won't be any slashing from me until they're done drying."
It's a very dry joke. Perhaps an inadvisable joke, but a joke nonetheless.
4. I'm not afraid of death [Pool Deck]
Daisy is floating in the pool in a tankini. She's staring up at the sky, or, occasionally, lying on her front staring at the bottom of the pool in a way that might look just a little bit concerning to a passer-by. It's fine, she technically doesn't need to breathe, it's just more comfortable to.
Still means she's sometimes lying face down in the pool though.
5. I'm just afraid of feeling numb [wildcard]
Find me at
no subject
no subject
Daisy nods a tight little nod. "We burned them, last time. When washing didn't work. Should've this time."
The drum of the washing machine keeps spinning. The trainers keep banging against the sides.
"Way things are going, next tape'll be when Jon found me. And the thing— the thing is, if I'd never been trapped?" She laughs, humourless and grim. "I'd never have given up the Hunt. Never would've thought to. I've been thinking about that. A lot, lately."
no subject
"Penny for those thoughts?" she murmurs.
no subject
Daisy drags her tongue over her teeth and there's blood on her breath when she sighs and nudges Erin, encouraging her to let go so Daisy can climb back on top of the machines and beckon Erin up with her. She doesn't want to keep watching the wash cycle.
She holds the tape recorder in her lap, running her claws through nooks in the plastic.
"...no one makes it out of the Buried. The second I stepped into that coffin I should've been done for. We— Jon was insane. Doing what he did. Let alone for someone who tried to kill him. He sure didn't know I'd be any less— awful, after. But I shouldn't have even had chance to be."
no subject
no subject
Daisy snorts. "He nearly got himself trapped forever in a Fear domain because he thought a piddly little rib would be enough to follow out from," she gestures with mock dramatics, without letting go of Erin's hand, "Forever Deep Below Creation. He went in thinking," now she puts on a terrible RP accent, "'well, if this fails, all that's lost is me!'. Self-loathing little twat. When I say its insane, it's— fond exasperation. Neither of us were, are, exactly what you can call sane anyway. You saw us. All of us."
That fond exasperation seeps into every word she says. She owes Jonathan Sims her life, most of what remains of her sanity, and she misses him in a way she'll never say aloud, but he was a stubborn, self-flagellating little twerp with an eldritch being feeding him Knowledge all the same.
"He just... wanted to save someone. Do something good. Think everyone expected getting me out would... help. Not—" She sighs. "Point is. I should have stayed there. Like I should have stayed in the Nothing. Or got lost in the Hunt at home. Or died. I keep— getting chances I shouldn't've. It's—"
Disorienting? Terrifying? Infuriating? She doesn't know. She wishes she knew.
"...feels like I came out of the coffin into an— upside down world. And it never turned right ways up again."
no subject
Erin does exactly that, cuffing Daisy lightly upside the back of the head. "You shoulda stayed in the Nothing? Shoulda just been a good Hunter? Fuck that, my sovereign. Everyone's gotta die eventually, sure, but y'know what happens then? You stop. Forever. Every person you coulda helped, every life you coulda touched, every act of love and bravery put on hold until kingdom fucking come. You gonna sit here and tell me that since getting back you've done nothing genuine with or for others?"
no subject
Daisy digs her elbow a bit into Erin's ribs in instinctive retaliation. "That's not— the only possible 'good' I did at home was drag Jon out of his own head sometimes. And hopefully give him and Basira a chance when I gave myself up. Here— there's you. Maybe Max. But that's not— my point is, it should've been. Impossible. Escaping all of those things..."
She shakes her head. Time and time again she defeats the odds and it makes no sense, it makes no sense at all.
"And now, it seems like—" Her voice actually cracks a little, bordering on a near hysterical laugh, "—it seems like this stupid therapy stuff has been working? At least a little? Between you and— I spent nearly a year in Max's memory with Erik helping me and I didn't starve nearly as much as I did in the same time before all of this crap."
And that terrifies her, because things getting better mean they can get worse.
no subject
Please tell Erin she misheard and Daisy actually said 'Papa Smurf'.
no subject
Daisy's jaw rolls as she drags her tongue over her teeth and she sighs. "Erik. Yes, Lord 'I have a human pet' Oz... whatever it was. I know. I turned up in his fucking dungeon and— shit happened and I guess he turned helping me get under control into a little project."
no subject
Listen, Daisy, my girl, Erin's not shitposting here, she's genuinely concerned, horrified, and angry at Erik, in order of importance.
no subject
Daisy blinks at her, as it takes her a full second to process what Erin's thinking. "Jesus, no, just— a dungeon. A normal dungeon. He was killing a guy it was all very normal vampire dungeon stuff."
no subject
no subject
"Stumbled through the crack. Watched Erik kill a feral vampire guy. Got noticed and chained up whilst he tried to figure me out. Agreed to become his— mentee of sorts, I guess, about controlling the bestial stuff. Said I reminded him of his younger self. It was agree, stay in the dungeon, or die, so..."
Daisy shrugs, re-settling with her head on Erin's shoulder. Neither of those were options. Taking the offer was the best call, even before she knew it would actually help.
"Started living in the mansion. Having talks, lessons, whatever. Spending time with Max."
no subject
But she loves Daisy. And she worries. And she's here, to listen.
no subject
"That's the thing, it was... fine? Lived in a mansion for almost a year. Ate lots of Max's cooking. Introduced him to the Archers. Heard way too much guy sex. Had to talk about myself way more than I like, but— it wasn't that bad. Max said Erik probably saw me like another vampire, so he treated me just fine. Even told me stuff he hasn't told Max in our 'lessons'."
Which she has actually kept to herself rather than telling Max, out of some amount of respect for Erik's help.
"Never liked his vibes, reminded me a bit of Elias. Plus the Max stuff. But it— helped, I think."
no subject
Well, Erik is the limit of Erin's ability to tolerate her fellow monster.
no subject
"He's a piece of shit," Daisy says simply, because it's true. "Just happened to be a piece of shit I had stuff in common with. The relationship between those vampires and the beast isn't the same as the Hunt, but it's close enough. Controlling it didn't stop him being a real wanker, though."
In some ways, it's also a lesson that just controlling your bestial urges doesn't make you a better person in itself. Erik has self-control and Erik was still an evil bastard. Daisy reaching for self-control comes on the back of the progress she's made as a person, but she's still not all the way there on either front.
"Might've gone different if dying wouldn't throw me back to the wolves. Or if I wasn't on murder break."
no subject
Erin knows why Daisy has been going cold turkey, but she never had any expectation that Daisy would stop killing people forever. A better relationship to monstrosity isn't the same as becoming a werewolf Care Bear.
no subject
Daisy shrugs. "Dunno. Things feel better than they were, sure. And the urges are there. But it's not like I think I could hold back if I got violent, yet. Not like killing people isn't still kind of frowned upon. Not like I want to enjoy it the way I used to."
It's... complicated, to say the least. She still craves the violence, the chase, but even now Erin and Erik have helped her that's a delicate edge to be balanced upon. And craving it and wanting it are not the same thing, exactly.