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_sailaway2022-11-07 04:01 am
hadnoright) wrote in come_sailaway2022-11-07 04:01 am
When you cage an animal [OPEN]
Who: Daisy Tonner & you!
What: Daisy's back and she is not particularly happy about it
When: Second weekish of November onwards
Where: Many places on the ship
Warnings: Discussions of possession, death, possible references to police brutality, possible violence, some passive suicidal ideation, less than stellar attitude towards other non-humans/left-of-human types.
Notes: Daisy's back, with all of her boat memories but also a canon update to roughly the end of TMA s4. HUNT SENSE PERMISSIONS, tell me what your character smells like to the resident Hunt Avatar. Feel free to flip me to brackets I am comfortable with either style.
1. Their claws will start to show [cabin hallways]
The second she snaps to consciousness, she knows exactly where she is.
She's done this a thousand times, after all. Died and woke up tucked into bed by that faceless creep that reminds her of some— some— thing the Stranger would spit out. Every excursion and plenty in-between them. The process of dying and coming back to life may as well be like breathing to her, by now.
There's just one problem: she wasn't supposed to wake up, this time.
Daisy rips the covers off with a frustrated shout and topples clumsily off the bed, backing herself up until she hits the wall by the door, staring at her own hands—her own hands, not that Crabb woman's, her own hands with her own scars and nails sharp enough to be claws. She paws at her body, claws catching in the material of a familiar sweater covered in daisies as she pulls it up, then pulls it down at the back as she twists to look for the familiar scar on her back.
The blood is pumping in her ears. The Hunt is coursing through her veins. The last thing she remembers is somehow both telling the others to run and lying on the pool deck floor, wishing just to die. A year's worth of new memories in her skull and a burning, futile fury that she's stuck here again, all of it amounting to wishing she could just die and be done with all of this, and—
Daisy slams a fist against the wall next to the cabin door so hard that it dents it. "Screw this, I'll kill everyone on this boat and then myself before I live with these— these— freaks!"
...the damage is probably visible outside and she's not being half as quiet as she should be. It might not even be the last time she breaks something around the cabins today.
2. They're aimin' at your throat [public areas]
There's nowhere to hide, on this ship. Not really. Everyone's too crammed together for anywhere but your cabin to be totally safe from prying eyes and Daisy's not exactly eager to lock herself away for the foreseeable future. Of course, being stuck with these bozos isn't ideal, especially after the stunt she and her fellow ghosts pulled, but she has one thing in her favour: no one knows what she actually looks like. Only two people even know her name.
This means that, in theory, she can take advantage of their ignorance for as long as possible and just play at being new. Whether her patience will hold up to that long term is another matter entirely, but it should buy her some time to figure out what the hell she's doing.
In practice, this means Daisy spends a while stalking the halls of the ship, getting the lay of the land again now that she's herself and the ship isn't in crazy disrepair. The way she moves is best described as predatorial, a dangerous grace that both perfectly fits her small stature and gives her an energy that outgrows it. Her head snaps around at every little noise. If she catches the scent of something not exactly (normal) human, she might even throw you a glare that's somewhere between wary and a threat.
If someone looks at her a little too long or, god forbid, actually confronts her about the shifty looking... everything, her only excuse is, "I'm... new. Figuring this creepy cruise business out."
3. It's time to let them go [windjammer]
An unforeseen but not entirely unwelcome side effect of giving into the Hunt again is that, suddenly, Daisy actually feels like eating again. It's been weeks since food looked, let alone smelled, any amount of appetising and yet upon walking into the buffet she's hit with a ravenous hunger that simply won't be denied. So she piles plates full of meats and— well, it's mostly meats, but some veg and sits down to tear through it.
(There are no crab legs in her selection. Screw the damn infinite crab legs.)
Which is how you end up with this sight to walk in on: a woman no bigger than 5'2", her daisy-patterned sweater hanging off her like it's too big for her somewhat malnourished frame, teeth too sharp to be entirely human, and looking in some ways like a wild animal protecting their food as she eats far more than it looks like she should be able to, let alone so fast.
4. When you cage an animal [calgona spa & gym]
Come into the gym at the wrong moment, and what you're going to hear is short, sharp, inhuman snarls and... tearing? Rather than punch the punching bags available, Daisy's making use of those claw-like and yet easily disguised nails that are perfectly suited to tear through much tougher things than the skin of a punching bag. They'll get repaired anyway, what does she care?
But like in the halls, if someone comes around, her head will snap up at the slightest sound. In this moment, with the way her lip curls and her eyes flash with something... not quite right, she looks even more like a startled animal than usual and might bark out a, "No one ever taught you not to creep up on someone?"
Alternatively, you might find her in the spa area, around where the hair dye products and such are sat. Not that she's touching any of those, not right now. Instead, she's got a pair of scissors in hand and is running her fingers through the scruffy, too-long hair that's been growing out ever since she started spending more time in the Archives than out of it. She doesn't really know what she's doing, that much is obvious by the hesitation and the way she keeps tilting her head as if she can figure out a better angle.
"Maybe I should just put it in a low pony and chop it like that..."
5. Your animal [wildcard]
Find me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
bluecitrine or at artisticblueteam#5757/in the discord.
What: Daisy's back and she is not particularly happy about it
When: Second weekish of November onwards
Where: Many places on the ship
Warnings: Discussions of possession, death, possible references to police brutality, possible violence, some passive suicidal ideation, less than stellar attitude towards other non-humans/left-of-human types.
Notes: Daisy's back, with all of her boat memories but also a canon update to roughly the end of TMA s4. HUNT SENSE PERMISSIONS, tell me what your character smells like to the resident Hunt Avatar. Feel free to flip me to brackets I am comfortable with either style.
1. Their claws will start to show [cabin hallways]
The second she snaps to consciousness, she knows exactly where she is.
She's done this a thousand times, after all. Died and woke up tucked into bed by that faceless creep that reminds her of some— some— thing the Stranger would spit out. Every excursion and plenty in-between them. The process of dying and coming back to life may as well be like breathing to her, by now.
There's just one problem: she wasn't supposed to wake up, this time.
Daisy rips the covers off with a frustrated shout and topples clumsily off the bed, backing herself up until she hits the wall by the door, staring at her own hands—her own hands, not that Crabb woman's, her own hands with her own scars and nails sharp enough to be claws. She paws at her body, claws catching in the material of a familiar sweater covered in daisies as she pulls it up, then pulls it down at the back as she twists to look for the familiar scar on her back.
The blood is pumping in her ears. The Hunt is coursing through her veins. The last thing she remembers is somehow both telling the others to run and lying on the pool deck floor, wishing just to die. A year's worth of new memories in her skull and a burning, futile fury that she's stuck here again, all of it amounting to wishing she could just die and be done with all of this, and—
Daisy slams a fist against the wall next to the cabin door so hard that it dents it. "Screw this, I'll kill everyone on this boat and then myself before I live with these— these— freaks!"
...the damage is probably visible outside and she's not being half as quiet as she should be. It might not even be the last time she breaks something around the cabins today.
2. They're aimin' at your throat [public areas]
There's nowhere to hide, on this ship. Not really. Everyone's too crammed together for anywhere but your cabin to be totally safe from prying eyes and Daisy's not exactly eager to lock herself away for the foreseeable future. Of course, being stuck with these bozos isn't ideal, especially after the stunt she and her fellow ghosts pulled, but she has one thing in her favour: no one knows what she actually looks like. Only two people even know her name.
This means that, in theory, she can take advantage of their ignorance for as long as possible and just play at being new. Whether her patience will hold up to that long term is another matter entirely, but it should buy her some time to figure out what the hell she's doing.
In practice, this means Daisy spends a while stalking the halls of the ship, getting the lay of the land again now that she's herself and the ship isn't in crazy disrepair. The way she moves is best described as predatorial, a dangerous grace that both perfectly fits her small stature and gives her an energy that outgrows it. Her head snaps around at every little noise. If she catches the scent of something not exactly (normal) human, she might even throw you a glare that's somewhere between wary and a threat.
If someone looks at her a little too long or, god forbid, actually confronts her about the shifty looking... everything, her only excuse is, "I'm... new. Figuring this creepy cruise business out."
3. It's time to let them go [windjammer]
An unforeseen but not entirely unwelcome side effect of giving into the Hunt again is that, suddenly, Daisy actually feels like eating again. It's been weeks since food looked, let alone smelled, any amount of appetising and yet upon walking into the buffet she's hit with a ravenous hunger that simply won't be denied. So she piles plates full of meats and— well, it's mostly meats, but some veg and sits down to tear through it.
(There are no crab legs in her selection. Screw the damn infinite crab legs.)
Which is how you end up with this sight to walk in on: a woman no bigger than 5'2", her daisy-patterned sweater hanging off her like it's too big for her somewhat malnourished frame, teeth too sharp to be entirely human, and looking in some ways like a wild animal protecting their food as she eats far more than it looks like she should be able to, let alone so fast.
4. When you cage an animal [calgona spa & gym]
Come into the gym at the wrong moment, and what you're going to hear is short, sharp, inhuman snarls and... tearing? Rather than punch the punching bags available, Daisy's making use of those claw-like and yet easily disguised nails that are perfectly suited to tear through much tougher things than the skin of a punching bag. They'll get repaired anyway, what does she care?
But like in the halls, if someone comes around, her head will snap up at the slightest sound. In this moment, with the way her lip curls and her eyes flash with something... not quite right, she looks even more like a startled animal than usual and might bark out a, "No one ever taught you not to creep up on someone?"
Alternatively, you might find her in the spa area, around where the hair dye products and such are sat. Not that she's touching any of those, not right now. Instead, she's got a pair of scissors in hand and is running her fingers through the scruffy, too-long hair that's been growing out ever since she started spending more time in the Archives than out of it. She doesn't really know what she's doing, that much is obvious by the hesitation and the way she keeps tilting her head as if she can figure out a better angle.
"Maybe I should just put it in a low pony and chop it like that..."
5. Your animal [wildcard]
Find me at
no subject
Daisy stares back at her looking, for all intents and purposes, like she just took a slap to the face. Seriously, is this some sick joke? She's back all of twenty minutes and this— this— preachy, weird woman has already figured out it's her. Based on— what? Vibes? Something to do with her brand of Changeling bullshit she can now actually smell on her instead of relying on Crabb's dull senses?
She stares, opens her mouth, and just—
"—of all the things I'm not doing today? This is top of the list."
Before trying to walk away. She picks the wrong way. She does not move.
no subject
She sounds offended. Erin really does. She can't believe that shit either.
no subject
"Apparently!"
It's ridiculous! Sure, people come and go (hello, five different Dean Winchesters who never seemed to keep their memories) but she has her memories. Even if those from the early days of her first voyage are blurrier than the later ones.
She rolls her eyes, and in lieu of being able to storm the way she'd lile, she begrudgingly moves the way of the muster. Hating every second that Erin can easily follow. "Ugh, what a joke—"
no subject
The rest is a tangle of...every emotion, really.
"You really gonna fuck off like there's nothing to settle between us, sovereign?"
Like I didn't say what I said?
...Like I didn't mean every word, no matter how complicated that's about to make things?
no subject
"I sure am. I don't owe you a thing. You got your piece when you jammed a knife in my back and ripped off my arm."
She turns to walk backwards for a few steps, entirely to flash her teeth with a sneer. She tried that more than once with Crabb's body and it looked wrong. On this face, though? It's right at home.
"Unless you're looking for a rematch, that is."
no subject
The tangle of feelings come back soon enough, though: "...But that's not how I'd like it to go down. Why'd you reach out to me, when I'd already promised to leave you alone?"
no subject
"Give me a break. I'm not in your weak little crush anymore. I'm me. I've torn monsters apart with my bare hands. You don't scare me."
It's blatant posturing. Daisy may have her teeth and her strength and her claws, but she also looks like she hasn't eaten well in months. More than that, she can smell it on Erin, how outmatched they are, but if she shows fear, then she's prey. And she still refuses to be that.
"You're so hung up on that. Even after we attacked. Ever thought that maybe I was just probing for weak spots?"
no subject
Hands in her pockets. Body posture relaxed. Boots clomp-clomping against the deck.
"...However quick I tried to make it, I still killed you. I owe you, for that. Good reason, bad reason, I hurt you."
I bared my tangled heart to you.
"That's what I'm talking about when I say we've got business to settle. Payment due for the wrong I did you."
no subject
"You lot really are weird. If I owed every person I killed on my voyage I'd be making up for it 'til the cows came home. You killed me. So what! You weren't the first. You might not even be the last." Beat. Her head tilts. "Not that I'm worried about the toff or crustacean."
She may not stand a chance against Erin, but she fancies her odds against them. Johnny was tougher than he looked and those scissors were nasty things that she'd bet reek of at least the Slaughter, but she's stronger than Crabb and won't come unarmed again. Crabb may be a brawler, stronger than people may give her credit for, but she's still no threat.
"Anyway. I don't think it's the violence that's even bothering you."
no subject
A challenge, if not to a fight.
What is it you think you see?
no subject
"You're hung up on what you said. Waiting for me to acknowledge it. To be a good little dog and come running for some kind of validation you think I want." She rolls her eyes. Her pace hasn't slowed a bit since she started walking. "You don't even know me. Until now you didn't even know what I look like."
no subject
"That, too, was something violent I did to you. And with no right."
no subject
"You've got a funny idea of violence."
And here comes the elevator to take them to deck one. Daisy considers the stairs for a solid few seconds as she comes upon the doors before deciding the elevator's at least quicker than the extra walking plus the descent.
Sighing, she hits the stupid button.
no subject
And stays right in front of the doors, even as they shut. Between the sovereign and the muster drill. She unbuckles her belt and tosses it as far from her as the elevator will allow, knives and all, and then her sword goes right into the pile with it.
No word of explanation.
Her phone comes out of her pocket so that she can dictate a text, and then it, too, goes onto the pile.
"Alright, sovereign. You heard all that." Erin's hands go into the pockets of her skirt, and she stands, looking -
- and feeling? -
- oddly at peace.
(Peters. Peters. Peters what are we doing -)
"Here I am. Unarmed. Do what you like. No reprisals, no revenge, no hard feelings. I won't hurt you even if you hurt me. Come and get me if I'm so fucking delusional. Prove you're above it all and I'll never. Bother you. Again."
no subject
What. The. Fuck.
Yeah, she heard all of that, alright. She watches Erin shed the weapons, the phone. Watches her stand there unprotected (that armour of hers she kept offering, gone too) and challenge her. Invite her to attack. Encourage her to do her worst.
The blood pumps in her ears, fresh and needy and eager for a fight she didn't get to leap into before she woke up back here. Two Hunters and that Stranger monstrosity just waiting for her to sink her teeth into. A part of her hungers for this, for a chance to take that out on Erin.
Another part of her is dissatisfied by the lack of Hunt in it. Too easy. No chase.
Another yet doesn't want to act at all. She denied the Hunt for months, gave in only for the sake of Jon and Basira (fuck, Basira, how can she long for two versions of the same person—) and maybe the world at large. (Maybe. Truth be told that didn't matter so much as they did.) She fought it for so long, why give in for anything less than that?
But she's not just that Daisy. Is she? Years on the boat. Years of a different life, a different suffering. How can she be both? Are those memories even really her, when that Daisy remembered none of what they went through here? They needed the Hunt, they always needed it, can she really keep denying that—
The noise that erupts from her is that of a distressed animal, somewhere between a snarl and a whine. Her nails dig into her scalp as she clutches her head as if it hurts, having all of this conflicting information tangling around itself up there.
What eventually comes of this moment of messy, ugly distress is a burst of motion and something almost as in-between as the woman beneath it all. No claws. No teeth. Just brute force strength shoving Erin back against the doors hard enough to dent and hoping the effect of the impact gives her the few inches she needs to get her forearm across at least Erin's collarbone if not her throat.
no subject
"The Aura can be cut down," Erin murmurs. Her cheeks are reddening, and that gunpowder...
A little crown bursts in it, smoky and pointed.
"Your throne is right here, Daisy. One loveless kingdom at sea, needing no one."
no subject
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—
Claws spike at the edges of the aura around her throat, a part of her still wanting so badly to rip through it to the soft flesh beneath that will bleed and tear and come away, another part of her still screaming to back off and let this go entirely, don't give in don't give up—
(The Hunt isn't even here, not anywhere but within her, yet it's no different than before, she will never truly be free of its touch.)
She wants blood. She wants death. She wants Basira. She wants home. She wants the fucked up little corner of the messed up world that she'd started to guard like it was her own. She wants so many things she cannot have so why shouldn't she have this?
"Sh-Shut up. Don't— don't."
Is she blushing, or—? And what's with the smokeshow?
no subject
"Go on. Take me. My body is yours and when you step over it you can beat down the bridge door and finish what you think I'm too weak to even start."
(PETERS. SHE'S GOING TO KILL US.)
Then that's what we get for assuming.
(PETERS -)
No. Not this time. Someone believed in us, remember? The people here believed in us too.
We can believe in Daisy. Or we can die trying.
no subject
"You don't know me. You don't know who I am or what I want. You don't know what I've done."
How weird it is to feel her nails dig into something she can barely see. To see them not find the flesh that should be right there. What does she want? This stupid magic crap out of her way, maybe then she'll know what else she wants, if the taste of blood will make her hate herself or want more or both.
no subject
Was Erin going to say something else? Egg Daisy on, beg her to stop, throw her worldview back in her face again? It doesn't matter; the Aura shatters under a final strike, and the leftover force of the blow drives Erin into the elevator door, body pressed hard against it, Daisy's arm tight against her throat.
Erin's cheeks redden further. She's breathing hard. Faintly, she becomes aware that the final deflection wasn't quite enough; a long line of blood runs from the underside of her jaw, a shallow cut that gushes as all head wounds gush.
no subject
Daisy's breathing is ragged, tight. Adrenaline and bloodlust and maybe something that skips the blood part entirely and fear and anger and pain, all of it surging through her, loud and violent and making her head spin.
It would be so easy. Rip her throat out, claws or teeth would do it. She won't fight back. (Why? Why is she doing this? Why—) She can prove what she is, show Erin the huntress, the predator, the monster, the things she knows she is and for so many years was utterly unashamed of.
What words come, come through gritted teeth and shaking breaths. "You made. That promise. To a woman you don't. Even. Know."
The scent of blood. Fresh and right there and so easy to make more of—
Daisy lets out a frustrated, guttural noise and jerks away so hard she might leave more damage in her wake anyway.
no subject
There are. Only more crowns.
"I know," Erin manages, through ragged breaths. "In a lot of ways I've just met you for the first time. But you say the lies I told myself until someone decided even I wasn't wretched enough to be beneath love."
In. Out. Erin manages to strangle the mad urge to try and kiss Daisy. She feels more alive than she had when Colors showed up at the door to her apartment, shedding cherry blossoms and Spring rain.
"...No one becomes a monster without burying people. How do you think I got like this? But it can be different. If you let it. You don't owe me anything but if you let me I'll defend you. Help you. I mean that too. I won't hurt you. Not even when you hurt me."
no subject
"You think I care if you hurt me?" There's a grim sort of laughter to it. There's barely a way Erin could hurt her that she hasn't had before. She heals fast. The Hunt needs its hunters to survive, so long as they do what it wants. She doesn't remember the last time she made a new scar.
How long since someone was on the ground below her. How long since she stood above someone who isn't running away. How long since it was this kind of chase she felt pumping through her veins.
Shit.
Shitshitshit.
Daisy steps back up to Erin. Casts her in her shadow. Dashes her tongue across her own teeth. Tastes iron.
Curls her fingers under Erin's jaw and bends down close enough that she can all but taste the blood on her cheek. Close enough that she can taste it, if her tongue darts out.
"You really have just met me."
no subject
But the part of Erin controlling her mouth says:
"I already told you: my body is yours."
no subject
"At your own risk."
Fuck it. If three weeks in the Nothing did what they did to dear old Crabb, can you even begin to imagine what lurks under Daisy's skin? The need, the want, the desire— all of it to just let fucking go. To lean into something, into someone, and if that someone is someone who could destroy her in one strike, who just let her draw blood, then so what?
It's not like it'd be the first time.
(...the elevator's new, though.)
Daisy tilts Erin's head just a little bit higher and then there's teeth tugging her lower lip, and then there's lips against hers, and then there's a hunger that takes over all sense and reason and leaves only the need to pursue, hunt, chase—
Shit. This is a bad idea.
Shit. That isn't going to stop her.
CW Fadeout of sex (good thing the ghosts are cleaning again eh)
CW blood stuff man idek
Re: CW blood stuff man idek