"Even-ish. Like one turn of a gross display of overt aggression and murder didn't deserve another."
He moves closer, leaning on the table a little out of Daisy's arms reach. "Look. I'm not mad. I get why you flipped the fuck out. But I can't say I wouldn't do it again, if I saw the same thing happen again, so. I'm not really apologising?"
"And I can't promise not to flip out again. Or— ugh." She drags her tongue across her teeth and huffs air out of her nose. "I don't like. My head being messed with. And Basira— the last time she died, I couldn't stop it. And now she's gone. I don't— care if you step into fights here and now. Not even if it's me involved. But that was a done thing."
"No one likes their head being messed with. I get that." Since this is apparently going well, he takes a seat properly, sitting backwards with his legs around the back of it. With the way the digitigrade limbs tuck in, his hooves barely scrape the ground. "Like, way better than you think. Or maybe not, I dunno how much Erin's told you about our jam."
He shrugs one shoulder. "But yeah, like. I didn't know I was walking into a memory. Far as I was aware it was a live scene."
"She's said enough." Not necessarily to Daisy, but it's easier to act as if it was instead of explaining anything about how she was possessing Crabb for almost an entire month and knows the entire Lost 101 from Crabb's memories. Erin's explained some since, anyway. The parallels still make her squirm, a little. "So, yeah. Sure. You— you'd know."
She folds her arms a little tighter around herself, dragging her tongue over her teeth again. She could keep picking at her food, but she doesn't really feel like it right now.
"...I didn't think there'd be memories from— here. From then. That wasn't this cruise, you know. This isn't my first time on the shittiest holiday ever. Guess it would be confusing. Still being on the boat."
She still sounds... disgruntled, uncomfortable, but she'll admit that. Fine. He couldn't have known. It still sucks, though.
"I didn't know there was one," he says plainly. "I've only heard about all the shit happening on this current Willy Wonka ride."
He can feel her discomfort, nothing to feed off but distinct enough.
"But- I dunno, I've done this too. Not the boat specifically, but the, like. General vibes. Pointless torture with no end in sight and no break except the inevitable mental one."
"Well, now you do. The Captain's been doing this for centuries. My first go around? Was just the last one before this one. What you saw was an everyday thing. Anyone who started off decent? They weren't, by the end. Captain's games got them all."
Not 'us' all, because Daisy was never decent. Daisy certainly got far worse during her time on the first cruise, but she was always like that. Only the coffin did anything to blunt her edges.
"It is... quieter, this time. This group's not the same. The Captain's not the same. But." It doesn't make her hackles smooth. It doesn't mean she can relax. "Yeah. I dunno. Doesn't make it better, does it?"
Gil snorts briefly. "Ave! Duci novi, similis duci seneci."
Here's to the new boss, same as the old boss.
"Apparently he's been improving, but that's not something I've exactly got a good bead on, so." Hey, if Daisy isn't, Gil will - he'll reach other and take a piece of her lunch. "We'll see."
Daisy eyes his hand, but doesn't stop him. Luckily actual food isn't something she's territorial about. She just huffs a grim laugh. "He does play less death games. But I don't trust it."
She'll never trust it. She can't afford to trust it. She has to be prepared for things to go south because they always do.
"Yeah, well. I think the most anyone's willing to offer him except Skul is the benefit of the doubt." Which, granted, he supposes he can let them, but he's a bit more doubtful than that. "So, y'know. Give anyone who's friendlier than that a wide berth, I guess? But you should learn to pick a few people you do trust or you'll lose your goddamn mind."
It's the Archives she finds herself thinking of, though calling what they had back there 'trust' is probably too generous. But without them she'd have lost it a long time ago. Here, though...
"There's Erin." And that's... it, really. There are other people who've offered to help where they can with the 'kicking the Hunt habit' thing, but she doesn't trust any of them as far as she can throw them. "Hard to trust anyone when no one can trust you. Anyone told you how I snapped last month, yet?"
"Yeah, don't use a single Changeling for a mental barometer. You'll both just spiral." It feels warranted enough to comment. "Do you know how many of us it takes to average out to a sane community?"
Daisy huffs, shrugging loosely. "Probably about the same as it'd take for people like me. But sure. Point given. But my point stands too. I killed people. Injured others. And that doesn't fly. So people don't trust me. Not much I can do about that but try to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"Okay, so based on literally all the memories I've been tripping into? You're not the only one, so." He just takes her whole plate at this point. "Have you considered get off your high murder horse about it and stop making it weird?"
"Do you always decide you know how everything works right after you arrive somewhere?" It's oh so very dry and she gives him a look. "Sure. Bet everyone's memories are full of murder and monstrosity. But I killed three people and hurt another three last month and some kid who's all pally with the skeleton that killed fifteen in December came and got on my arse about it. And she wasn't the only one. I'm not the one making it weird."
At least, not the only one. And yet after a moment her brow even furrows like she's thinking, and then she groans and grumbles to herself: "...ugh, how did I end up on this side of this shit..."
'Get over yourself', she told Jon. 'Stop moping', she told Jon. And now here she is with a weird furry changeling guy basically telling her to stop being a drama queen.
"Are you--" He actually presses forward and jams an elbow on the table to lean towards Daisy, and the husk in his voice thickens as he tries not to growl.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You don't get to compare yourself to a teenage girl--" with a sharp, broad gesture "--an emo, teenage girl - for losing her shit. You know better. And what you fucking do is pick yourself up and keep fucking going, 'cos like hell is anyone else gonna put in the effort unless you do it fucking first."
He leans back, his ears pressing back at a pointedly annoyed angle. "If you're weird about killing people? Everyone else is gonna be weird about you. You fucked up. So own it and fucking move on."
"I am fucking trying, alright?!" It's the first time the edge of a bark leaks into her voice this conversation, and she grits her teeth against it, letting her teeth catch her own tongue and letting the taste of iron knock her back to her senses.
She's half a mind to argue that wasn't even her point about Darcy, but she decides better of it and just takes a moment to breathe, to try and focus on the quiet before she says anything else.
"...I went cold-turkey and starved myself to skin and bones for a year. Would've been dead, if I'd got to stay at home." Should've been dead, she thinks but doesn't say. "But here? I was always gonna snap eventually. And I really didn't know if I'd come back from it when I did. And we're trying new things. To fix this. But if they don't work—"
Then she's back to being a lost cause, who'll snap so far one day she doesn't come back down.
He doesn't flinch when she barks, but his muzzle wrinkles automatically at the rise in aggression. But he does listen to her with thin, unimpressed patience.
He puts a piece of food in his mouth.
"Two years." He points a thumb at himself. "Cold turkey. Obligate. Cannibal. I get how hard it is to starve yourself off of the one thing that's actually gonna satisfy you. How it's gonna fucking kill you." He lets his hand drop back on the table. "All you can do is fill the gaps with shit to prop up the pieces left of you around it."
Even Daisy winces and hisses sympathetically at that; she's friendly with Siffleur, she's well over any inherent squirming at the idea of cannibalism in itself but obligate cannibal—that's different.
"Haven't had any luck finding that shit yet. Normal food—it doesn't even take the edge off. Glamour passed over by Erin was— too much. She's." A deep sigh. "She's poking around my dreams, right now. Trying to see if she can find— something. I dunno if she will."
Even if she does, Daisy doesn't know if even Erin can win against what could well be the equivalent of a piece of a fucking Fear God.
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hadnoright) wrote2022-11-01 01:56 am
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He moves closer, leaning on the table a little out of Daisy's arms reach. "Look. I'm not mad. I get why you flipped the fuck out. But I can't say I wouldn't do it again, if I saw the same thing happen again, so. I'm not really apologising?"
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"And I can't promise not to flip out again. Or— ugh." She drags her tongue across her teeth and huffs air out of her nose. "I don't like. My head being messed with. And Basira— the last time she died, I couldn't stop it. And now she's gone. I don't— care if you step into fights here and now. Not even if it's me involved. But that was a done thing."
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He shrugs one shoulder. "But yeah, like. I didn't know I was walking into a memory. Far as I was aware it was a live scene."
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"She's said enough." Not necessarily to Daisy, but it's easier to act as if it was instead of explaining anything about how she was possessing Crabb for almost an entire month and knows the entire Lost 101 from Crabb's memories. Erin's explained some since, anyway. The parallels still make her squirm, a little. "So, yeah. Sure. You— you'd know."
She folds her arms a little tighter around herself, dragging her tongue over her teeth again. She could keep picking at her food, but she doesn't really feel like it right now.
"...I didn't think there'd be memories from— here. From then. That wasn't this cruise, you know. This isn't my first time on the shittiest holiday ever. Guess it would be confusing. Still being on the boat."
She still sounds... disgruntled, uncomfortable, but she'll admit that. Fine. He couldn't have known. It still sucks, though.
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He can feel her discomfort, nothing to feed off but distinct enough.
"But- I dunno, I've done this too. Not the boat specifically, but the, like. General vibes. Pointless torture with no end in sight and no break except the inevitable mental one."
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"Well, now you do. The Captain's been doing this for centuries. My first go around? Was just the last one before this one. What you saw was an everyday thing. Anyone who started off decent? They weren't, by the end. Captain's games got them all."
Not 'us' all, because Daisy was never decent. Daisy certainly got far worse during her time on the first cruise, but she was always like that. Only the coffin did anything to blunt her edges.
"It is... quieter, this time. This group's not the same. The Captain's not the same. But." It doesn't make her hackles smooth. It doesn't mean she can relax. "Yeah. I dunno. Doesn't make it better, does it?"
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Here's to the new boss, same as the old boss.
"Apparently he's been improving, but that's not something I've exactly got a good bead on, so." Hey, if Daisy isn't, Gil will - he'll reach other and take a piece of her lunch. "We'll see."
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Daisy eyes his hand, but doesn't stop him. Luckily actual food isn't something she's territorial about. She just huffs a grim laugh. "He does play less death games. But I don't trust it."
She'll never trust it. She can't afford to trust it. She has to be prepared for things to go south because they always do.
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"I know. Believe me. I know."
It's the Archives she finds herself thinking of, though calling what they had back there 'trust' is probably too generous. But without them she'd have lost it a long time ago. Here, though...
"There's Erin." And that's... it, really. There are other people who've offered to help where they can with the 'kicking the Hunt habit' thing, but she doesn't trust any of them as far as she can throw them. "Hard to trust anyone when no one can trust you. Anyone told you how I snapped last month, yet?"
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Daisy huffs, shrugging loosely. "Probably about the same as it'd take for people like me. But sure. Point given. But my point stands too. I killed people. Injured others. And that doesn't fly. So people don't trust me. Not much I can do about that but try to make sure it doesn't happen again."
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"Do you always decide you know how everything works right after you arrive somewhere?" It's oh so very dry and she gives him a look. "Sure. Bet everyone's memories are full of murder and monstrosity. But I killed three people and hurt another three last month and some kid who's all pally with the skeleton that killed fifteen in December came and got on my arse about it. And she wasn't the only one. I'm not the one making it weird."
At least, not the only one. And yet after a moment her brow even furrows like she's thinking, and then she groans and grumbles to herself: "...ugh, how did I end up on this side of this shit..."
'Get over yourself', she told Jon. 'Stop moping', she told Jon. And now here she is with a weird furry changeling guy basically telling her to stop being a drama queen.
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"Are you fucking kidding me? You don't get to compare yourself to a teenage girl--" with a sharp, broad gesture "--an emo, teenage girl - for losing her shit. You know better. And what you fucking do is pick yourself up and keep fucking going, 'cos like hell is anyone else gonna put in the effort unless you do it fucking first."
He leans back, his ears pressing back at a pointedly annoyed angle. "If you're weird about killing people? Everyone else is gonna be weird about you. You fucked up. So own it and fucking move on."
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"I am fucking trying, alright?!" It's the first time the edge of a bark leaks into her voice this conversation, and she grits her teeth against it, letting her teeth catch her own tongue and letting the taste of iron knock her back to her senses.
She's half a mind to argue that wasn't even her point about Darcy, but she decides better of it and just takes a moment to breathe, to try and focus on the quiet before she says anything else.
"...I went cold-turkey and starved myself to skin and bones for a year. Would've been dead, if I'd got to stay at home." Should've been dead, she thinks but doesn't say. "But here? I was always gonna snap eventually. And I really didn't know if I'd come back from it when I did. And we're trying new things. To fix this. But if they don't work—"
Then she's back to being a lost cause, who'll snap so far one day she doesn't come back down.
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He puts a piece of food in his mouth.
"Two years." He points a thumb at himself. "Cold turkey. Obligate. Cannibal. I get how hard it is to starve yourself off of the one thing that's actually gonna satisfy you. How it's gonna fucking kill you." He lets his hand drop back on the table. "All you can do is fill the gaps with shit to prop up the pieces left of you around it."
no subject
Even Daisy winces and hisses sympathetically at that; she's friendly with Siffleur, she's well over any inherent squirming at the idea of cannibalism in itself but obligate cannibal—that's different.
"Haven't had any luck finding that shit yet. Normal food—it doesn't even take the edge off. Glamour passed over by Erin was— too much. She's." A deep sigh. "She's poking around my dreams, right now. Trying to see if she can find— something. I dunno if she will."
Even if she does, Daisy doesn't know if even Erin can win against what could well be the equivalent of a piece of a fucking Fear God.