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'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)
- Oh. Erin's teeth are kinda sharp, aren't they?
That small voice stops protesting eventually.
-------------
A little stopwatch, pillaged from Sundries ages ago to serve as an alarm clock, goes off in the pouches of Erin's belt in the corner. The woman herself sits slumped up against the wall, breathing hard, feeling both run ragged and completely renewed. Long scratches down her arms, sharp but blessedly shallow, have forced her tattoos to move away; the blood running across them has long since been sucked into the notes, giving Erin's music a scarlet hue.
Somehow, by unspoken agreement, they'd managed to avoid damaging each other's clothes overmuch. Which is to say that Erin's shirt is a total loss but at least she won't have to walk with her bits out all the way back to her appointment with SecUnit here in a scarce twenty goddamn minutes. She runs her hands through her hair, thoughtlessly staining it with her own blood.
Restrains the urge to reach out and touch Daisy. There's already been so much touching, and yet...
"I'll get in touch with you again later," Erin promises softly. It's not the world's greatest pillow talk but from as far away as the elevator and the muster compulsion will allow, well, quality isn't something to expect. "...After Johnny's had his chance to run me through the wringer for uh, you know. My actions. Do yourself and Honoria Crabb a favor and just...don't open that wound. I'll tell her the same thing. It's not much of a peace but, it doesn't need to be one."
Erin looks at a thin rivulet of blood running down her fingertip and offers her hand out. "One last taste before I have to patch up in record time?"
CW blood stuff man idek
"Yeah, yeah, I won't bother your little crush." Breathless, raw, gravelly like a growl is trying to thread its way through the fabric of her voice. "Unless she bothers me. "
She can still feel the tug of the muster drill calling her even as she sits there across from Erin, tank under her sweater a lost cause but everything else intact enough to pass for decent in public. Well. Clothing wise, that is. She's not sure the marks, the blood, left by Erin in turn count as decent but that's just the cost of admission, isn't it? A cost she's oh so gladly paid.
They'll heal up fast. Little things always do. By tomorrow, maybe.
It's not like she hasn't given into the call of the blood, if in a less... conventional, way. Something in her feels sated, in a way it hasn't in... in... however many years she was Nothing. But she won't starve like this. Not that it's ever been easy to starve, here. The Captain's whims made feeding the bloodlust so very simple, didn't they?
She adjusts her sweater. She draws up to her knees. She licks Erin's finger clean without a single damn word and forces herself to her feet before the taste of iron is even off her tongue.
Then, and only then, she snorts a faint laugh. "Good luck with that."
Re: CW blood stuff man idek
The last word goes unchallenged. Maybe this voyage can be different for Daisy.
This can be her garden too.
Erin bandages up in anticipation of a fast run to her standing appointment. Can't die before Johnny gets the chance to kill her.
That might be rude.