Who: Daisy + open to others What: Avoiding emotions, having a Sad Birthday, and training When: Mid-June to mid-July Where: Around Milton (forest, houses, General Store)
[ When things get hard, Daisy Johnson runs. It's what she's always done, and like what she'll always do. Running is her first and strongest instinct when she's scared of being hurt — not physically, she can handle whatever anything throws at her on that front, but emotionally... Well, 25 years of thinking you're unwanted can do a real number on a person.
Trusting people doesn't come easily for her. She has no trouble working with people or making friendly acquaintances, but when it comes to trusting them with her heart, it's a real struggle. There aren't many in this frozen hellscape who have reached that status with her, and now two of them are gone and she feels more alone than she has in a long time.
But since she can't physically run from her troubles, she runs from her emotions, putting her focus and effort into her work. There are no computers to hack here or supervillains to fight, but there's still plenty to be done. She chops wood in the forest until her lungs burn from the cold and she can barely hold the axe, and then she carries the wood into town. She cleans the empty houses that are solid enough for people to live in, scrubbing floors and washing windows, tidying whatever hasn't been picked over and separating anything of good quality to go to the Community Hall. She works until she's ready to fall over in exhaustion, and even then, it doesn't seem enough. ]
[ Daisy wakes up on the morning of July 2nd and wishes she didn't know what day it is. The house she'd once shared is an empty shell now, the silence echoing mockingly. She is alone with no one to help fill the emptiness in her heart.
There is no trip to the forest that day, or visits to one of the houses she's been working on getting in order. Instead, when she finally drags herself out of bed, she and her worn backpack head to the General Store, where she searches the shelves in a daze for... something. Back home, they didn't always have time for birthdays, but not a single one went by without some acknowledgment. A special stack of pancakes for breakfast; a cupcake with a candle; a beer shared with loved ones. There's no one here to mark the occasion with, so she searches for her own celebratory treat despite not feeling like there's anything to celebrate.
Eventually, treat selected, she settles at one of the little tables and arranges her things. The package of likely stale mini cookies goes next to the hula girl she pulls from her bag, followed by three crumpled sugar packets she lines up at the side. She sits there for a while vacantly staring at the items or nothing at all, and then with a sigh she reaches out to tap the figure with a fingertip to set the girl dancing. ]
[ Training is another way Daisy keeps her mind off Things. Their current captive predicament; the strange things that keep happening to them; the monster lurking in the darkness. She escapes it all as best she can by staying busy but also by staying active. When she isn't helping others or tending to her self-assigned tasks, she jogs through town, too worried about slipping to go for her usual full-speed run. It's something she'll put her trainees through, as well, should they last long enough to get to that point.
She's had a few takers for her message board offer of help with powers, which seems to mostly be limited to the firestarters. They're not the first she's met, so Daisy makes sure they meet a fair distance from the flammable houses. The very last thing they need is for half the town to go up in smoke because of a training mishap.
Adjusting her scarf against the frigid air, she checks that the bucket she'd brought with them is full of snow and then gestures toward her trainee. ] Since we've established you've had this power for a while, the best place to start is establishing a baseline, so let's see what you can do.
[For a moment Raju's eyes are wider, startled. It shouldn't surprise him, but the idea of doing any of it on purpose is one his mind shies away from, still. But he isn't going to tell her that he can't do it on purpose. It's shameful to even want to say it, with this deep down knowledge that come with the gloom settled over the sky when the darkwalker had come, the knowledge that something is going to get worse, and there's a man here who counts on him, who's going to need him to use everything he has.
The shame. It's a pressure in his chest, one that's started to become familiar. He piles onto it: shame that he's been so afraid to try this on purpose that he's only done it once, that he has so little control that he certainly can't afford to think of the things that'd started the fire that time, not with the state it left him in afterward, in front of a stranger. That his friend needs him, is going to need him to use everything he has but all he's done is remember the nightmares that make the fire come and shy away from trying it while he's awake, while others here have more control over it than he could dream about.
His gaze is absent, and his breathing is harder now, and rough. The lines of his posture are harder now, held tight. He should be ashamed, and he is. He should be angry, and he is. A flame grows in the palm of his right hand, over the fingerless glove he's wearing there, and he sucks in a sharp reflexive breath, shaking it to try and put the damn thing out.]
help with powers; soon after the town meeting! (cw: burns)
Of course. [ Billy answers, a little but polite dip of his head into a nod. It's yet to be seen how much help Daisy can be with any of this, but-- considering she's offering said help in the first place, he can at least be polite about said offer.
Besides, she's not asking much for him. This used to be a lot more difficult, but nowadays it comes relatively easy to him. It helps when he has so many emotions ready to fuel the fire, especially in wake of the meeting. Billy just has to exhale, the look in his eyes growing a little distant as he recounts the scene of the town meeting in his mind--
--and fire appears over his hand, though it doesn't touch it. Another breath, and Billy closes his hand underneath the flame, snuffing it out. ]
Purposefully making it appear does not feel too difficult anymore, as strange as it sounds. [ He admits, his tone quiet and polite, and the man moves to strip one of his hands of its glove. There are no terrible burns on his hand underneath, but there are definitely some light ones, some areas of the skin red and swollen as a sign of it. It doesn't look incredibly old, but it doesn't look fresh either. ] .. this is the problem. It happened because I got-- [ He pauses, seeming to settle on: ] --nervous. I would like to get some more emotional control over it to prevent this, if at all possible.
[Ever since the sun's return, Chloe has been working on her greenhouse project in the cabins on the outskirts. This means that she's been in and out of the uninhabitable houses in the area looking for materials, and it's hard not to notice the same person moving around in the inhabitable houses around them every day.
Yeah, some people are living in more than one house, but this is getting kind of ridiculous. One day, Chloe approaches the woman as she's bringing some of the supplies she's found out of a house.]
[By this time, the scars on the right side of Randvi’s face have healed enough that she's removed all of her bandages except the strip directly over her eye. Now that she can move around more freely, it's time to try and get a handle on the extremes of her power.
She's taken to using a walking stick to detect obstacles on her right side, but she's put it down for this. No sense in risking burning it.
She holds out her left hand, letting a spark fall from each finger.]
I can control it well in most situations, but when emotions are high or I'm under pressure, things are less stable.
[ There's a brightness to his voice, though it's not as intensely cheerful as he might normally be. Still, as often happens with him, his tone might perhaps be a mismatch for the overall mood. A little too bright, perhaps? He's glad to see her, as he is everyone here. Glad because they can't very well take it for granted, can they, from one day to the next?
Her voice is spoken with a measure of reverence, the unspoken hint that her presence here might be something to appreciate.
He's restless in his skin to reach out and tap that hula figure himself, but instead he wrings his hands together to distract his fidgety fingers. He doesn't sit with her yet — much as he might presume and misread social cues, he at least has the sense that something more is going on here than just a brief respite with a pack of likely-stale cookies. Because of that, he won't just presume and invite himself. For once, he pauses and asks, in his...unique way — ]
Are all three of those sugar packets spoken for, or might I join you?
[Levi chops wood regularly as well, but this time as he goes to gather wood to chop he comes across Daisy carrying hers back into town. Since she looks winded and has a good amount of wood he pauses and raises a hand in greeting.]
[ there's a sad lady sitting alone at a table, a wobbling doll in front of her, and sansa has never related to anyone quite so intensely like she does with the stranger in this very moment.
she's been lingering in the store, quietly staring in marvel at all the strange objects lining the shelves. tin containers with faded paper covers, glass that isn't glass (she's been told it's plastic, whatever that means), objects that served some purpose she couldn't divine from looking at them alone.
sansa knocks on a wood shelf to announce herself, before stepping into the other woman's line of sight. ]
[ It takes a moment for that knock to register, reminding Daisy of just how much she's let herself go in the midst of her depression. Back home, she was always vigilant, a true credit to May and their many hours of training. She should be embarrassed, ashamed of how she's slipped, and yet she can't bring herself to be anything but tired and lonely.
Looking up at the young woman, she thinks she recognizes her as one of the more recently arrived. There's always been something about her that struck Daisy as both out of place and also perfectly at home, though she couldn't begin to explain either impression. ]
No, I'm not waiting for anyone. [ There's no one to wait for anymore. With a nod to the shelves, she poses a question, forever acting on the instinct to help and be useful to others. ] Are you looking for something?
[ the cold isn't kind to her hair, and try as her lady mother might, sansa's hair required so much treatment to meet her satisfaction. sansa misses it, the way her mother smooths out the stray hairs until the strands fell across her shoulders like silk. misses her fingers carding through them as she braids her hair into loose coils, that they might warm her while still looking presentable as the highborn daughter of lord eddard stark.
sansa approaches cautiously, as though she might offer some kindness. the other lady seems lost to her thoughts, and perhaps — well, she could attempt a good turn, if it be welcome. ]
[ If it pleases to know. There it is. Wherever the girl came from is a place different from Daisy's home. Their way of speaking, dressing, and likely their customs. It's not the first time she's met someone from a drastically different world, though, even before she was brought here. ]
As alright as any of us are here. [ She offers the girl a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. None of them are really alright here, after all. ] How are you doing with everything? This place is pretty different from your home, right?
[ Deflection. She's refined it into an art form. ]
[ sansa notices the deflection, having done much of the same both here and back home; in the interest of fairness, she doesn't pursue or point it out. that would make her a hypocrite, and rude besides. she does ask to take a seat, though, pulling up an errant chair and sitting at a polite distance from her. ]
I'm Lyanna. I think we've met in passing? And you're right, I've only recently arrived myself, and — well, it's been a rather eventful few weeks so far. Everything's so strange here, except for the cold.
Is it always like this? So—— fraught with tension, I suppose. The man called Methuselah isn't as forthcoming as he seems.
[ Daisy nods her permission and waits for the girl to take a seat. The items on the table remain where they are, small tokens of her life that no one else here could understand.
Eventful is putting it mildly. There had been some relatively boring weeks when she first arrived in Milton, but the last few months have seemed more horrible than the rest. At times, she almost wonders if it's by design, or if Milton might perhaps be gearing up for something. What that something might be, she doesn't know, but with two Darkwalker appearances under her belt, she's not ruling anything out. ]
No, he isn't. And I can't tell if it's because all of this has become normal for him, or if it's some other reason. [ She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh, folding her arms on the edge of the small tabletop. ] But things weren't quite like this when I arrived. They weren't great, but people weren't fighting each other because of some thing's influence.
[ Fighting each other and worse. A bit of frustration crept into her voice with those last words, but it fades as she smiles again, this one still small but more genuine. ] I'm Daisy, by the way.
Men who keep secrets always mean to for some purpose that serves them best. Forgive my frankness.
[ even her noble father kept secrets, though sansa would be surprised by the depths of the secrets he'd kept up to his death. for better or worse, though, men think themselves masters of fate, and withhold as easily as they give. she trusts and distrusts methuselah in equal measure for it.
still, it's good to hear - however belatedly - that recent events have been outside of what's considered the usual in these parts. ]
Lady Daisy, [ sansa acknowledges. ] As like the flower? You honour me with your acquaintance, my lady.
If you'll permit me to ask, why are you sitting here in the quiet?
[ Lyanna isn't wrong, and it's clear she's been hurt by someone who kept secrets. That's all it takes for Daisy to immediately feel closer to and more protective of the younger girl, those emotions helping to chase away a few cobwebs of melancholy. She doesn't do well without a purpose, and maybe helping this girl can become part of who she is here.
Daisy's smile turns slightly amused at the way she's being addressed, but there's nothing malicious in the expression. She's just never been called lady before. ]
Well, first, I'm definitely not a lady, though I appreciate the vote of confidence. And second... I'm just feeling kind of lonely, I guess. [ Pausing, she reconsiders, given their previous topic of secrets. She isn't looking for sympathy, but that doesn't mean she has to keep it all to herself, right? Her gaze falls to the table and the sad package of cookies. ] It's my birthday, and the people I'm closest to here keep disappearing. If that means they went home, then I'm glad for them, but we don't know for sure, and either way, I'm still here.
[ Now that it's out, she feels exposed, and something in her tenses as if waiting for a blow. All her life, she's kept her vulnerabilities hidden, not wanting to risk being a burden to those around her. The fear of rejection runs deep in Daisy Johnson, and no number of acceptances will ever fix what's been broken. ]
Your name day. That's how we might call it, back home.
[ granted, a proper name day was reserved for those some title; the common folk hardly bothered to celebrate unless they possessed enough coin for it. sansa appreciates that she knows her name day, and that her father allowed her to find some joy in celebrating hers in the company of friends and family. ]
No one should be alone on their name day, my lady. Or—How would you like for me to address you?
[ she decides, then, what she must do. ]
If... If you'll permit me. I can embroider their names. Your friends who have gone. To honour the memories they've left you, something you can carry with you.
( McCoy has his own training to upkeep, a routine he'd stuck to religiously before he arrived here in this perpetual winter hellscape, and has made attempts to resurrect as best he can. Life here has been more demanding than it ever was on a starship, and so some boxes were checked off simply because they were necessary for survival: the constant need for firewood, for foraging at greater distances than the day before, for mending and repairing, and for the constant judgment calls of effort spent vs calories burned vs rate of success.
It's been a while since he's just run, without the feeling of fear raking down the back of his neck, or worrying that he wasn't doing something useful in the process. His Fleet-issue boots manage the terrain better than the clunky snow boots he'd taken from the community center, and he's warm enough now to tug at the zip of his jacket, welcoming the cool air against his bundled up layers.
Someone else ahead looks to have the same idea, her hair like a flag, and he digs in to catch up and overtake her. )
Passing, ( Bones announces briskly, and glances aside at her, offering a nod before intending to leave her be. )
[ Running is one of the only times she manages to feel a bit like her old self. There's still the constant emptiness inside her that she can't shake, the feeling of being hollowed out by both grief and the loss of her powers, but this part of her was there before. Falling back on her SHIELD training brings a level of comfort she never would have expected all those years ago when she first started on her journey to being an agent.
That feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe twelve lifetimes. She's definitely not that girl anymore.
The sound of footsteps alerts her to someone approaching before his voice reaches her, and Daisy looks over to take him. One of the newer arrivals, and a doctor as well. He isn't the only one who's opted for gear from home for this particular activity — she's wearing the black boots from her Quake suit, which are better suited for running and have at least enough traction to keep her from falling on her face every five steps.
He gets maybe two feet ahead of her before a question tumbles out without thought, her voice slightly strained from the physical exertion. ] You up for some company?
[ She won't blame him if he declines, but suddenly the loneliness is so achingly deep that she can't just let the opportunity pass. ]
( At home he'd run with Jim, with his staff, or even other crew, tracing the wide band of Deck Six while the stars whirled beyond the windows. Out there, Bones never truly felt alone– and really how could he? Here though...
He doesn't turn at her question, welcome as it is, but he does slow, shortening his stride for her, and gestures broadly out beside him: C'mon then.)
Daisy, right?
( McCoy waits to ask until they're jogging at a matching pace, side by side on the snowy road. )
[ Here, alone takes on a whole new meaning. There's no one here from home, and she hates how bitter she feels about it at times. Some people here have a handful of friends or acquaintances from home to help them through these awful times, and while she wouldn't wish this place on a single member of her team, she misses them so much it hurts.
But at least for a few minutes she can pretend it doesn't hurt quite so much. It takes a moment for them to adjust to each other, given that he's got a good half foot on her, but she's used to training with others. ]
Right. Daisy Johnson. And you're Doctor... [ She flounders for a second, trying to pull a name from her memory that she might never have actually known, before admitting defeat with a slightly sheepish tone. ] Something. Sorry.
[ The important part. It reminds her of something FitzSimmons might have said once, back before everything started being awful on a regular basis. A very long time ago. ]
Not especially, no. [ There's a grimness to her tone that matches the subject at hand. ] I wasn't affected, but... things were still pretty bad.
[ An understatement, to be sure. This place keeps twisting them about, forcing them into horrible situations and conditions, and she's just so damn tired of it. ]
( An understatement, but he gets it. They both know what happened, and they know what little could be done. )
God damn this bullshit town, ( McCoy grouses, ferociously, ) but we made it to today.
( The snow crunches under their boots, kicked up behind them as they jog. His breath is a hot plume of white in the air, and he tugs his black gaiter up under his chin, keeping his throat warm against the cold. At last, he ventures: )
A friend of mine, he... I think he was sent home during the Aurora. I just wish there's a way I could know if he's all right.
[ It helps, somehow, to hear someone else say things like that. She has no doubt that they all feel the same way, but she never seems to hear people say it, when all she wants to do is scream into the frozen air and rage at the horrors they've been made to endure.
Her throat burns with the cold as she pulls in steady breaths, but her words waver with emotion when she replies, her heart aching with every syllable. ]
I lost two to the fucking Aurora. [ It's the only possibility that makes sense, and god fucking damnit, it hurts. ] Did you know Jim or Logan?
( McCoy slows to look aside at her, the emotion in her voice finding its equal in the pain behind his ribs. It isn't all for himself, but an ache for her too, the losses she's had to face here. )
Jim... you two were stayin' together, that's right. Christ, Daisy, I'm so sorry.
[ So Jim is the friend he mentioned, then. That makes sense. Jim Kirk had a way with people, of course, he would have made connections here. Her steps don't falter but she feels like she should be tumbling to the ground from all the weight pressing in on her. ]
I'm sorry for you, too.
[ Pain is something she knows all too well. She's used to losing people. So many lives lost to one cause or another, and it never gets easier. If anything, it just keeps getting harder, that ache burrowing deeper into her soul until she feels completely hollowed out.
After a quick glance over at him, she continues, needing to fill the emptiness with the only thing she has left: memories. ] He was the first person I met here, not long after I woke up. The first person I trusted. We talked about life in space, compared stories about our crews and ships. I tried to help him adjust to things here.
( That sounds just like Jim– the man he befriended here, and the Jim he's known at home for nearly a decade. Easy to know, to trust, close confidant and rock solid support. )
He spent his life out there in the stars. Never really knew Earth. I'm sure it meant the world to him, havin' you for a friend, showing him the ropes.
( He means it too, not as an empty platitude. There are kind folks in Milton, sure, but who's to say if anyone else would have seen he needed the kind of help she gave him.
Bones takes a slow breath, and releases it just as slowly, hesitant before he admits: )
Jim Kirk is my Captain back home. Not the same– a different Kirk, and a whole different universe, if you can believe it.
[ They'd helped each other, each of them out of their element and just struggling to survive. And she likes to think he'd appreciated her lack of judgment as much as she had his — their friendship had been a safe space to voice questions and confusion whenever needed.
She wishes they'd had more time together, that she'd checked in with him in those last weeks. She'd wanted to give him space to be with the woman he'd lost and had come back into his life, but...
Daisy's quiet for a moment, just a moment, and then she nods, though the motion is mostly lost in the movement of her body as they run. ]
I believe it. I didn't have much experience with the multiverse before this place, but my team did help make a branch timeline, so not too far off.
[ Name day. It sounds like such an antiquated title for the celebration, and she wonders at the sort of worlds the people around her came from. How different are they from herown? How lost are these people in such a foreign place? There's nothing she can do about any of it, yet she feels like she should be doing so much more.
The girl's offer catches her off guard, blindsiding her with the care behind it. She doesn't have anything of the two men she'd lost, the same way she doesn't have momentos of the friends she'd left behind at home, so the idea of having something... ]
Thank you. [ Her voice cracks a bit with a sudden swell of emotion that she swallows down. ] I would really appreciate that. Their names were Jim and Logan.
[ Such simple names for such complex people. She forces a grateful smile and addresses a previous question. ]
And just call me Daisy. Or if you feel like you need to be more formal or proper or whatever, you can call me Agent Johnson. That's my title: Agent.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chuju) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-07-01 11:52 pm
post-solstice to early july.
july 2nd.
mid-june to mid july.
help with powers, June
The shame. It's a pressure in his chest, one that's started to become familiar. He piles onto it: shame that he's been so afraid to try this on purpose that he's only done it once, that he has so little control that he certainly can't afford to think of the things that'd started the fire that time, not with the state it left him in afterward, in front of a stranger. That his friend needs him, is going to need him to use everything he has but all he's done is remember the nightmares that make the fire come and shy away from trying it while he's awake, while others here have more control over it than he could dream about.
His gaze is absent, and his breathing is harder now, and rough. The lines of his posture are harder now, held tight. He should be ashamed, and he is. He should be angry, and he is. A flame grows in the palm of his right hand, over the fingerless glove he's wearing there, and he sucks in a sharp reflexive breath, shaking it to try and put the damn thing out.]
help with powers; soon after the town meeting! (cw: burns)
Besides, she's not asking much for him. This used to be a lot more difficult, but nowadays it comes relatively easy to him. It helps when he has so many emotions ready to fuel the fire, especially in wake of the meeting. Billy just has to exhale, the look in his eyes growing a little distant as he recounts the scene of the town meeting in his mind--
--and fire appears over his hand, though it doesn't touch it. Another breath, and Billy closes his hand underneath the flame, snuffing it out. ]
Purposefully making it appear does not feel too difficult anymore, as strange as it sounds. [ He admits, his tone quiet and polite, and the man moves to strip one of his hands of its glove. There are no terrible burns on his hand underneath, but there are definitely some light ones, some areas of the skin red and swollen as a sign of it. It doesn't look incredibly old, but it doesn't look fresh either. ] .. this is the problem. It happened because I got-- [ He pauses, seeming to settle on: ] --nervous. I would like to get some more emotional control over it to prevent this, if at all possible.
no subject
Yeah, some people are living in more than one house, but this is getting kind of ridiculous. One day, Chloe approaches the woman as she's bringing some of the supplies she's found out of a house.]
Find anything good?
help with powers, July
She's taken to using a walking stick to detect obstacles on her right side, but she's put it down for this. No sense in risking burning it.
She holds out her left hand, letting a spark fall from each finger.]
I can control it well in most situations, but when emotions are high or I'm under pressure, things are less stable.
no subject
[ There's a brightness to his voice, though it's not as intensely cheerful as he might normally be. Still, as often happens with him, his tone might perhaps be a mismatch for the overall mood. A little too bright, perhaps? He's glad to see her, as he is everyone here. Glad because they can't very well take it for granted, can they, from one day to the next?
Her voice is spoken with a measure of reverence, the unspoken hint that her presence here might be something to appreciate.
He's restless in his skin to reach out and tap that hula figure himself, but instead he wrings his hands together to distract his fidgety fingers. He doesn't sit with her yet — much as he might presume and misread social cues, he at least has the sense that something more is going on here than just a brief respite with a pack of likely-stale cookies. Because of that, he won't just presume and invite himself. For once, he pauses and asks, in his...unique way — ]
Are all three of those sugar packets spoken for, or might I join you?
no subject
Do you want help?
no subject
she's been lingering in the store, quietly staring in marvel at all the strange objects lining the shelves. tin containers with faded paper covers, glass that isn't glass (she's been told it's plastic, whatever that means), objects that served some purpose she couldn't divine from looking at them alone.
sansa knocks on a wood shelf to announce herself, before stepping into the other woman's line of sight. ]
Are you waiting for someone?
no subject
Looking up at the young woman, she thinks she recognizes her as one of the more recently arrived. There's always been something about her that struck Daisy as both out of place and also perfectly at home, though she couldn't begin to explain either impression. ]
No, I'm not waiting for anyone. [ There's no one to wait for anymore. With a nod to the shelves, she poses a question, forever acting on the instinct to help and be useful to others. ] Are you looking for something?
no subject
[ the cold isn't kind to her hair, and try as her lady mother might, sansa's hair required so much treatment to meet her satisfaction. sansa misses it, the way her mother smooths out the stray hairs until the strands fell across her shoulders like silk. misses her fingers carding through them as she braids her hair into loose coils, that they might warm her while still looking presentable as the highborn daughter of lord eddard stark.
sansa approaches cautiously, as though she might offer some kindness. the other lady seems lost to her thoughts, and perhaps — well, she could attempt a good turn, if it be welcome. ]
It can wait, though. Are you all right?
no subject
As alright as any of us are here. [ She offers the girl a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. None of them are really alright here, after all. ] How are you doing with everything? This place is pretty different from your home, right?
[ Deflection. She's refined it into an art form. ]
no subject
[ sansa notices the deflection, having done much of the same both here and back home; in the interest of fairness, she doesn't pursue or point it out. that would make her a hypocrite, and rude besides. she does ask to take a seat, though, pulling up an errant chair and sitting at a polite distance from her. ]
I'm Lyanna. I think we've met in passing? And you're right, I've only recently arrived myself, and — well, it's been a rather eventful few weeks so far. Everything's so strange here, except for the cold.
Is it always like this? So—— fraught with tension, I suppose. The man called Methuselah isn't as forthcoming as he seems.
no subject
Eventful is putting it mildly. There had been some relatively boring weeks when she first arrived in Milton, but the last few months have seemed more horrible than the rest. At times, she almost wonders if it's by design, or if Milton might perhaps be gearing up for something. What that something might be, she doesn't know, but with two Darkwalker appearances under her belt, she's not ruling anything out. ]
No, he isn't. And I can't tell if it's because all of this has become normal for him, or if it's some other reason. [ She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh, folding her arms on the edge of the small tabletop. ] But things weren't quite like this when I arrived. They weren't great, but people weren't fighting each other because of some thing's influence.
[ Fighting each other and worse. A bit of frustration crept into her voice with those last words, but it fades as she smiles again, this one still small but more genuine. ] I'm Daisy, by the way.
no subject
[ even her noble father kept secrets, though sansa would be surprised by the depths of the secrets he'd kept up to his death. for better or worse, though, men think themselves masters of fate, and withhold as easily as they give. she trusts and distrusts methuselah in equal measure for it.
still, it's good to hear - however belatedly - that recent events have been outside of what's considered the usual in these parts. ]
Lady Daisy, [ sansa acknowledges. ] As like the flower? You honour me with your acquaintance, my lady.
If you'll permit me to ask, why are you sitting here in the quiet?
no subject
Daisy's smile turns slightly amused at the way she's being addressed, but there's nothing malicious in the expression. She's just never been called lady before. ]
Well, first, I'm definitely not a lady, though I appreciate the vote of confidence. And second... I'm just feeling kind of lonely, I guess. [ Pausing, she reconsiders, given their previous topic of secrets. She isn't looking for sympathy, but that doesn't mean she has to keep it all to herself, right? Her gaze falls to the table and the sad package of cookies. ] It's my birthday, and the people I'm closest to here keep disappearing. If that means they went home, then I'm glad for them, but we don't know for sure, and either way, I'm still here.
[ Now that it's out, she feels exposed, and something in her tenses as if waiting for a blow. All her life, she's kept her vulnerabilities hidden, not wanting to risk being a burden to those around her. The fear of rejection runs deep in Daisy Johnson, and no number of acceptances will ever fix what's been broken. ]
no subject
Your name day. That's how we might call it, back home.
[ granted, a proper name day was reserved for those some title; the common folk hardly bothered to celebrate unless they possessed enough coin for it. sansa appreciates that she knows her name day, and that her father allowed her to find some joy in celebrating hers in the company of friends and family. ]
No one should be alone on their name day, my lady. Or—How would you like for me to address you?
[ she decides, then, what she must do. ]
If... If you'll permit me. I can embroider their names. Your friends who have gone. To honour the memories they've left you, something you can carry with you.
That way, you're never alone.
jogging; july
It's been a while since he's just run, without the feeling of fear raking down the back of his neck, or worrying that he wasn't doing something useful in the process. His Fleet-issue boots manage the terrain better than the clunky snow boots he'd taken from the community center, and he's warm enough now to tug at the zip of his jacket, welcoming the cool air against his bundled up layers.
Someone else ahead looks to have the same idea, her hair like a flag, and he digs in to catch up and overtake her. )
Passing, ( Bones announces briskly, and glances aside at her, offering a nod before intending to leave her be. )
no subject
That feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe twelve lifetimes. She's definitely not that girl anymore.
The sound of footsteps alerts her to someone approaching before his voice reaches her, and Daisy looks over to take him. One of the newer arrivals, and a doctor as well. He isn't the only one who's opted for gear from home for this particular activity — she's wearing the black boots from her Quake suit, which are better suited for running and have at least enough traction to keep her from falling on her face every five steps.
He gets maybe two feet ahead of her before a question tumbles out without thought, her voice slightly strained from the physical exertion. ] You up for some company?
[ She won't blame him if he declines, but suddenly the loneliness is so achingly deep that she can't just let the opportunity pass. ]
no subject
He doesn't turn at her question, welcome as it is, but he does slow, shortening his stride for her, and gestures broadly out beside him: C'mon then. )
Daisy, right?
( McCoy waits to ask until they're jogging at a matching pace, side by side on the snowy road. )
no subject
But at least for a few minutes she can pretend it doesn't hurt quite so much. It takes a moment for them to adjust to each other, given that he's got a good half foot on her, but she's used to training with others. ]
Right. Daisy Johnson. And you're Doctor... [ She flounders for a second, trying to pull a name from her memory that she might never have actually known, before admitting defeat with a slightly sheepish tone. ] Something. Sorry.
no subject
( He ducks under the low branch of an evergreen that's grown out over the path, and brushes a bit of snow off his shoulder. )
Can't say I was feelin' all that sociable last month. How about you?
no subject
Not especially, no. [ There's a grimness to her tone that matches the subject at hand. ] I wasn't affected, but... things were still pretty bad.
[ An understatement, to be sure. This place keeps twisting them about, forcing them into horrible situations and conditions, and she's just so damn tired of it. ]
no subject
God damn this bullshit town, ( McCoy grouses, ferociously, ) but we made it to today.
( The snow crunches under their boots, kicked up behind them as they jog. His breath is a hot plume of white in the air, and he tugs his black gaiter up under his chin, keeping his throat warm against the cold. At last, he ventures: )
A friend of mine, he... I think he was sent home during the Aurora. I just wish there's a way I could know if he's all right.
no subject
Her throat burns with the cold as she pulls in steady breaths, but her words waver with emotion when she replies, her heart aching with every syllable. ]
I lost two to the fucking Aurora. [ It's the only possibility that makes sense, and god fucking damnit, it hurts. ] Did you know Jim or Logan?
no subject
Jim... you two were stayin' together, that's right. Christ, Daisy, I'm so sorry.
no subject
I'm sorry for you, too.
[ Pain is something she knows all too well. She's used to losing people. So many lives lost to one cause or another, and it never gets easier. If anything, it just keeps getting harder, that ache burrowing deeper into her soul until she feels completely hollowed out.
After a quick glance over at him, she continues, needing to fill the emptiness with the only thing she has left: memories. ] He was the first person I met here, not long after I woke up. The first person I trusted. We talked about life in space, compared stories about our crews and ships. I tried to help him adjust to things here.
no subject
He spent his life out there in the stars. Never really knew Earth. I'm sure it meant the world to him, havin' you for a friend, showing him the ropes.
( He means it too, not as an empty platitude. There are kind folks in Milton, sure, but who's to say if anyone else would have seen he needed the kind of help she gave him.
Bones takes a slow breath, and releases it just as slowly, hesitant before he admits: )
Jim Kirk is my Captain back home. Not the same– a different Kirk, and a whole different universe, if you can believe it.
no subject
She wishes they'd had more time together, that she'd checked in with him in those last weeks. She'd wanted to give him space to be with the woman he'd lost and had come back into his life, but...
Daisy's quiet for a moment, just a moment, and then she nods, though the motion is mostly lost in the movement of her body as they run. ]
I believe it. I didn't have much experience with the multiverse before this place, but my team did help make a branch timeline, so not too far off.
no subject
The girl's offer catches her off guard, blindsiding her with the care behind it. She doesn't have anything of the two men she'd lost, the same way she doesn't have momentos of the friends she'd left behind at home, so the idea of having something... ]
Thank you. [ Her voice cracks a bit with a sudden swell of emotion that she swallows down. ] I would really appreciate that. Their names were Jim and Logan.
[ Such simple names for such complex people. She forces a grateful smile and addresses a previous question. ]
And just call me Daisy. Or if you feel like you need to be more formal or proper or whatever, you can call me Agent Johnson. That's my title: Agent.