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
"...Jon would have a field day talking to you." She can already imagine him taking notes and asking far more questions than Daisy herself is. Nerd. "What is it with clowns and their creepy calliope music? The Stranger loved that shit... eugh. I had to live with one of its creepy circus mannequins for years on this damn boat."
A little shudder. "Sure am glad there's no other monsters or whatever from home around this time..."
She says as if she doesn't have 'monsters or whatever' that she misses.
no subject
“I’M ASSUMING THIS JON IS SOME SORT OF SEER TYPE? I AM ALSO ASSUMING THAT ‘JOHN’ IS A COMMON HUMAN EARTH NAME AND NOT JUST THAT I PERSONALLY KEEP RUSHING HORNFIRST INTO JOHNS SOMEHOW.”
no subject
"Nikola was very much alive. Somehow. Fears stuff. Last I saw her was on my old cruise." Beat. "...mm, sure hope sundries doesn't take this as a challenge."
It'd be just her luck to get an actual mannequin in the mail. It really would.
"Anyway. Yeah, John's a common name. My Jon's... a nerd. S'pose 'seer' isn't wrong, he's Eye. Has to know everything. Know-it-all prick."
Somehow that doesn't sound like an actual insult.
no subject
He nods at the description of Jon. “YEAH, I KNOW THE TYPE. I’M GUESSING HE WAS A GOOD FRIEND OF YOURS THEN. OR A CONTENTIOUS FRIEND AT LEAST. JUST BASED ON HOW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT HIM.”
no subject
"With fear gods, everything's worse than you could ever imagine."
Said with the same casual tone you might declare that it's raining out.
"He—" Daisy sighs, sitting back and looking at her hands, examining her claws. Baby blue. "Jon saved my life. More than my life, really, it's— complicated. Fear stuff. But I tried to kill him once, long before that. When I was still... Hunty. Wouldn't ever now, and he knew that. We were pretty close by the end. But things were complicated, no way around it."
no subject
Karkat has basically no reaction to the revelation that Daisy had tried to kill a man that she now considers a friend, aside from sympathetic nodding. On Alternia, that’s just Tuesday. “SOUNDS LIKE YOU MISS THE GUY.”
no subject
She snorts. "Not a lot you could say that's less offensive. No one wants to live on my Earth. Not even me. I ever step back and the Hunt gets me. Makes me wonder, sometimes. About Jon away from the Eye, and..."
Trailing off, Daisy shakes her head. "...guess you could say I miss him. Think we were the only thing keeping each other sane sometimes."
Jon understood the bone-deep Hunger caused by not properly feeding your god in a way no one else did. Not Melanie, certainly not Basira. He spent three days in the Buried with her. There are things you go through with a person that change everything.
no subject
“YEAH I THINK THERE’S ALWAYS SOMETHING ABOUT LIVING THROUGH HELL WITH SOMEONE THAT MAKES YOU APPRECIATE THEM A BIT MORE, NO MATTER HOW INSUFFERABLE THEY SEEMED BEFOREHAND,” he muses.
no subject
"Yeah," Daisy says in a breath. "Some things you can't go through together without... everything changing. Still use the mantra we came up with, to ignore the Hunt."
She groans a bit, dropping her head back against her chair. "No use getting mopey though."
no subject
“ALSO, I PERSONALLY BELIEVE YOU ARE ENTITLED TO BE JUST A LITTLE BIT FUCKING MOPEY CONSIDERING ALL THE SHIT THAT’S GONE DOWN. TAKING SOME TIME FOR SELF-INDULGENT MOPING AFTER A STRESSFUL SITUATION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL, AND EVERYONE ELSE CAN GET OVER THEMSELVES FOR BEING ANNOYED BY IT.”
no subject
Daisy snorts a little. "I'm usually the one annoyed by moping. Never liked how wallowing feels."
And sometimes you have a chronic moper like Jon who someone has to get out of his head for a bit. She didn't foresee ending up almost as bad.
"...don't listen to the blood, listen to the quiet. That's the mantra."
no subject
no subject
"Uh. Yeah. The Hunt... one of the ways it calls to you is the sound of. Pounding blood. Your own or others." Makes you want to spill it, too, but she doesn't add that, instead she's cocking her head at him. "You good, kid?"
no subject
“YEAH, I’M FINE,” Karkat winces. “JUST UM, BLOOD IS A WHOLE THING FOR ME. IT’S NOT YOU, JUST SO WE’RE CLEAR.”
He can still hear it sometimes - the insistent drumming of Land of Pulse and Haze. Knowing that it was his blood that was beating through the rivers and tributaries that formed a network throughout the planet. And sometimes, when he was there long enough, he could hear that steady rhythm echoed inside his own body, inside the bodies of his friends.
no subject
"Guess it sort've is for both of us, then. Just different reasons." It seems like a fair assumption that his Whole Thing about blood isn't desiring it, like it is for her.
no subject
“MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST AGREE TO NOT BRING IT UP AROUND EACH OTHER? IF IT’S GONNA BE A TRIGGER FOR BOTH OF US? OR LIKE, CHECK IN BEFORE BRINGING UP THE SUBJECT, I GUESS.”
no subject
"Yeah, sure. I'd say it shouldn't come up that much but," she snorts, "that's tempting fate around here."
no subject
no subject
"...blood based caste system. Wish that surprised me more, actually."