There's a noise, low in Daisy's throat. She remembers the names of almost every victim she's ever hurt, physically or otherwise; she remembers the locations of every body she's ever buried out in Epping Forest; she remembers the smell of Jon's blood in the air and how even with Basira stood right there talking her down, she almost slit his throat anyway.
For all the control she may have developed, over the years, no one is ever truly safe. She has a list in her head, ranked from easiest prey to the most satisfying of challenges. She knows the best ways to kill each and every one of her loved ones. She knows they trust her so much they'd never see it coming.
"It never goes away."
The shape of her life is that of a blood stain on the fabric of the universe. There's no scrubbing it clean, when her hands are drenched in red just as thick.
She scrubs at her face with a hand and sighs. "Yeah. At least, that's what a lot of people call 'em. Can't say it's wrong. They're... gods of Fear. Eldritch beings that sit somewhere outside our universe and feed on it. People like me... we're connected to them. The real dedicated types come up with these— rituals. To bring their god down to change the world. Most just... feed it. Stop feeding it, it'll feed on you."
no subject
There's a noise, low in Daisy's throat. She remembers the names of almost every victim she's ever hurt, physically or otherwise; she remembers the locations of every body she's ever buried out in Epping Forest; she remembers the smell of Jon's blood in the air and how even with Basira stood right there talking her down, she almost slit his throat anyway.
For all the control she may have developed, over the years, no one is ever truly safe. She has a list in her head, ranked from easiest prey to the most satisfying of challenges. She knows the best ways to kill each and every one of her loved ones. She knows they trust her so much they'd never see it coming.
"It never goes away."
The shape of her life is that of a blood stain on the fabric of the universe. There's no scrubbing it clean, when her hands are drenched in red just as thick.
She scrubs at her face with a hand and sighs. "Yeah. At least, that's what a lot of people call 'em. Can't say it's wrong. They're... gods of Fear. Eldritch beings that sit somewhere outside our universe and feed on it. People like me... we're connected to them. The real dedicated types come up with these— rituals. To bring their god down to change the world. Most just... feed it. Stop feeding it, it'll feed on you."