Not to chastise, not to try and convince her that somehow this self-hatred is irrational, but to say the words that have been in the bedrock of their friendship from the start. I know. I know, because I would do the same. Did do the same. Still do the same.
Daisy presses her face deeper into Fever's shoulder and stands upon the bedrock, finds reassurance in its existence. They both know. They both know all too well.
"Made it. So long. Not hurting people. And now—" Inhale, exhale. "Don't feel safe. Going into town."
Not a fear of her own safety, no. A fear of others safety.
The nod is more felt than seen, a soft movement on her side.
"...Then get it out of your system. Hurt me until you don't feel like you'll be a threat to others anymore."
To Daisy, it might seem like it's a bizarre sacrifice coming out of nowhere. But Fever's going somewhere with this - a place a different friend took her before, when she was uncertain and fearful and hurting badly.
She pulls back enough to look her in the face, red eyes fixed and steady.
"You're in control, Daisy. Maybe you weren't then, maybe there will be times you aren't. But right now, no one can make you do anything you don't want to. I'm here, close enough that if you were a danger, if you were that much of a risk of hurting others, I'd already be dead. This is a choice you're making."
To prove her point, she reaches out, wiping away the remaining tear tracks with a gloved hand.
"Not saying you have to force yourself to act like nothing happened. Just that you're not as close to the edge as you feel like you are."
Choice, again. It always circles back to that: the power of choices, those you know you're making and those you don't.
"I—" she starts, then clamps her mouth shut, whatever she was going to say dying on her tongue. She's not even sure what it was. "...you're not scared of me."
Hard to say if that's meant to be a point of argument or a point of recognition.
Daisy snorts weakly. "...you stink worse now. Just so you know."
Everyone does. Every mark that reflected the Fears without ever having truly touched them is now ignited and alive the way the marks on those from her own world were and are. Like the plastic wrap's been taken off.
She chuckles at the idea of stinking worse - thinks of a clever joke about perfume, and shelves it. Instead, she nods at what else is said, and Daisy can see it this time.
"You've got a pretty fair team to help your fight. Doesn't matter how long it takes."
"Mm." Her head sags against the mattress, hair a chaotic and incongruous halo. "Hate— hate how it feels like. Being back at step one. Even if I'm— not."
She doesn't sound entirely convinced by the idea she isn't, but she's trying to take Fever's words to heart properly. Turning them over in her head.
"It doesn't help that you could hear it loud as anything in there." Beat. "I passed through it. Not for too long, but I heard it. Felt it. Those who kill, and those who are killed."
It's not the same as living within it, but it had shown her the shadow of the concept. At the time, she had been so consumed with the push to live that she hadn't thought to say anything, but now...
"My own— my own blood. And the blood. And— every heartbeat in the building. And outside."
The line between the rush of her own blood in her skull and the rush of the strange, nebulous Blood is hard to define, but they are separate, one feeding into the other. The connection was stronger, there, with the Hunt so close, could feel every individual that bled into the collective in a way she can't, now (thank god), but it's still there.
She snorts softly at the Phil comment, before her brow furrows and her eyes close as she tries to focus. Tries to listen past the rushing blood, the pounding rhythm of every heartbeat. It really is harder than usual to hear through the noise, but...
"...well, birds. Obviously. Forest— forest noises. Generally." Go beyond that. Further out from the estate and the surrounding forest. "Some— some kid laughing. Lots of chatter. People never shut up. Uh."
Daisy breathes in, and exhales. Tries to keep her attention on the voices. Tries to remember what it means for the world to be alive, not just a Hunting ground.
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hadnoright) wrote2022-11-01 01:56 am
no subject
All she says, the rough edge of distress on every syllable: "Completely."
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Not to chastise, not to try and convince her that somehow this self-hatred is irrational, but to say the words that have been in the bedrock of their friendship from the start. I know. I know, because I would do the same. Did do the same. Still do the same.
no subject
Daisy presses her face deeper into Fever's shoulder and stands upon the bedrock, finds reassurance in its existence. They both know. They both know all too well.
"Made it. So long. Not hurting people. And now—" Inhale, exhale. "Don't feel safe. Going into town."
Not a fear of her own safety, no. A fear of others safety.
no subject
"...Then get it out of your system. Hurt me until you don't feel like you'll be a threat to others anymore."
To Daisy, it might seem like it's a bizarre sacrifice coming out of nowhere. But Fever's going somewhere with this - a place a different friend took her before, when she was uncertain and fearful and hurting badly.
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"What?" There's an immediate shift in her voice, firmer where the shock impacts. "No! I'm not going to— no."
Even as the blood still pounds, so goddamn loud it hurts.
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She pulls back enough to look her in the face, red eyes fixed and steady.
"You're in control, Daisy. Maybe you weren't then, maybe there will be times you aren't. But right now, no one can make you do anything you don't want to. I'm here, close enough that if you were a danger, if you were that much of a risk of hurting others, I'd already be dead. This is a choice you're making."
To prove her point, she reaches out, wiping away the remaining tear tracks with a gloved hand.
"Not saying you have to force yourself to act like nothing happened. Just that you're not as close to the edge as you feel like you are."
no subject
Choice, again. It always circles back to that: the power of choices, those you know you're making and those you don't.
"I—" she starts, then clamps her mouth shut, whatever she was going to say dying on her tongue. She's not even sure what it was. "...you're not scared of me."
Hard to say if that's meant to be a point of argument or a point of recognition.
no subject
Not even if she'd seen her in the heart of the Hunt, contorted into its beast with a beating heart.
"You only scared me a little when I couldn't figure out why you had that look on your face when you saw me."
And then she had learned it was the scent, and nothing to do with herself.
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Daisy snorts weakly. "...you stink worse now. Just so you know."
Everyone does. Every mark that reflected the Fears without ever having truly touched them is now ignited and alive the way the marks on those from her own world were and are. Like the plastic wrap's been taken off.
"It's— it's hard." Not an argument. Just truth.
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"You've got a pretty fair team to help your fight. Doesn't matter how long it takes."
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"Mm." Her head sags against the mattress, hair a chaotic and incongruous halo. "Hate— hate how it feels like. Being back at step one. Even if I'm— not."
She doesn't sound entirely convinced by the idea she isn't, but she's trying to take Fever's words to heart properly. Turning them over in her head.
no subject
It's not the same as living within it, but it had shown her the shadow of the concept. At the time, she had been so consumed with the push to live that she hadn't thought to say anything, but now...
"What do you hear right now?"
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"My own— my own blood. And the blood. And— every heartbeat in the building. And outside."
The line between the rush of her own blood in her skull and the rush of the strange, nebulous Blood is hard to define, but they are separate, one feeding into the other. The connection was stronger, there, with the Hunt so close, could feel every individual that bled into the collective in a way she can't, now (thank god), but it's still there.
no subject
It's loud, so very, very loud - but is there more? Is there more she can find in the mess? Like sifting through the battlefield for a friend.
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She snorts softly at the Phil comment, before her brow furrows and her eyes close as she tries to focus. Tries to listen past the rushing blood, the pounding rhythm of every heartbeat. It really is harder than usual to hear through the noise, but...
"...well, birds. Obviously. Forest— forest noises. Generally." Go beyond that. Further out from the estate and the surrounding forest. "Some— some kid laughing. Lots of chatter. People never shut up. Uh."
no subject
If there is no quiet to listen to and the blood is loud, listen to something else. Distract the process.
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"N— Normal, mostly? Normal stuff. I think someone just told a bad joke."
Didn't catch the joke, but there's someone laughing and groaning, out there, somewhere.
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No one said it'd be easy, of course, but it might help, just a tiny bit. One handhold against the howling.
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Daisy breathes in, and exhales. Tries to keep her attention on the voices. Tries to remember what it means for the world to be alive, not just a Hunting ground.
"...okay. Yeah. Okay."