collectors don't ride much. so they got too many. simple.
[He pauses at the last text and has to control the hurt that wells up. He knew she joked around but it was hard to tell if it was joking in text and harder lately to make himself stop feeling shit that shouldn't matter. He has to take a deep breath and remind himself Rosa is an asshole. A nice asshole.
Fucking hell, why was it so hard to feel fucking normal anymore? Even if it wasn't a joke, it was still stupid and not worth taking personal.
[When Daryl shows up, he's visibly agitated. Having trouble keeping himself still: Biting at his thumb and pacing back and forth. He's there, though, and clearly in need of that drink.]
[Rosa lets him into the space without uttering a single word; instead, she kinda just grunts at him in greeting. The kind of grunt that is as unobtrusive as possible, knowing that she doesn't want to add onto whatever he's going through, even if that means minimal verbal communication for now.
.. Actually, that isn't so bad. Rosa isn't one for talking, anyway.
It doesn't take long for her round up a bottle of whiskey 3/4 full and two glasses. The thing he might notice, if he's able to come out of himself enough to do so, is how tastefully decorated the place is. Almost like it's been done by a professional from Better Homes and Gardens. Things are coordinated, there are beautiful splashes of color throughout the room, and everything looks immaculate, yet lived-in. It's one of her hidden talents that she's only revealed to Ruby. Once.
She sits down on the couch, placing the glasses and bottle down on the table. She fills both glasses up almost to the brim and hands him one, nursing the other herself. She doesn't initiate conversation, instead letting the silence fill the space aroud and between them. She figures he'll talk when he's ready.]
[Her place is the complete opposite of his. Well coordinated, looking like it comes from some magazine model home. His was... well, his was country living with a whole lot of backwoods mixed in.
He immediately feels self-concious about his appearance, but it's honestly not that bad. He's showered and his clothes - while the shirt is missing pocket - are clean. No holes otherwise. No real mud or dirt on the shoes. And no vest.
But he wasn't dirtying anything up. So that was a plus.
He sat down at the table, on the floor, thankful for the silence. It helped calm his nerves a lot more than he wanted to let on. More so than the whiskey he knocked back, eyes shutting tight at the initial burn.
[Whereas in her last life, she would've already found another place to live now that she's had visitors over, she finds that urge a tad less intense. It probably helps that she's already seen Daryl's home, been scared shitless by the endless taxidermy and all, and still enjoys his company (though she'd never admit it outright). She doesn't give a shit about dirtying up the space or whatever, and hasn't noticed a thing about what he's wearing. She just likes having a nice home, only for herself.
It's also worth noting that she has some seriously large ass swords on one wall, in size order from smallest to largest. The largest is fucking huge.
She sips at her whiskey and, once he's downed his, slides the bottle over towards him. Open invitation to drink whatever he wants, no reservations.]
[He looked at the bottle for a long moment before pushing it back. He'd nurse what he had for a while. Was already messed up enough as it was.
His fingers tapped at the side of the glass, the nervous fidgeting returning as he got ready to talk. She hadn't asked, but it was just...]
Carl left 'fore I did. Not long before, but he was the last of 'em. Rick and him and Enid and Andrea. They was the ones here.
[And Negan. Fucking Negan.]
Rick left first. Then Andrea. Then Enid. Then Carl.
[He paused to take a drink instead of letting Negan's name escape his lips. The agitation building to the point he tried to drown it in whiskey rather than let it out.]
[Before she knows it, she's downed half her glass and decides to refill. She does so wordlessly, as before, and sets the bottle back down on the table - in between them. He doesn't have to take her up on the offer of more now, but it's an outstanding invitation. She's expecting to finish the bottle between the two of them.
Once he does start speaking, Rosa's gaze lands somewhere in the liquid in her glass, though it's obvious that she's listening. Even if .. she doesn't totally get what he's talking about.]
Here as in .. here? In this place? These people you knew from before?
[He nodded slowly, swallowing the last of his first glass before he finally took the bottle and refilled it. Swallowed on a dry throat to clear the lump that was forming before he took another drink.
His head dropped and nodded again.]
Were... were family. Weren't blood, but... they're family.
[There was a pause before he gave a bitter snort, half in amusement and half in pain.]
Andrea shot me in the head once. Was a bad shot, cause I survived.
That's what the 99 is for me. Family. I don't give a shit about my actual family and not seeing them again because I'm here's one of the few good things going for me. But .. not having the 99 .. that's .. [She stops, realizing she's teetering on showing too much emotion, as far as Rosa standards go. So, she stops.] I get it, is what I'm saying.
What happened when you went back? Do you remember?
[Daryl's hand tightened on his glass and his whole body went stiff. There was just a slight shake to his jaw as he breathed in. He looked away and took another drink as he nodded.]
Yeah.
[He finished the rest of that glass a lot faster than the first and poured a third.]
A lot of shit. That's what happened.
[A short beat before he went on:]
We're... we're under attack by... by this fucker who showed up here a few months ago. He ain't here no more, but I didn't know him then. Now I do. He shows up again, I'm gonna kill him.
[Rosa finishes off her first, allowing him to replenish his glass before doing the same with hers. She sets the bottle down and tosses half the glass back as he talks. Again, not staring at him, not being a creep about it, but obviously attention.
And obviously upset on his behalf.]
Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, man. I'll help you kill the fucker. I've got an endless supply of fucking blades, man. Anything you want. We'll take the fucker down.
[If he wasn't feeling so dour and full of anger and fear he was barely keeping in check, he would have smiled at her enthusiasm. Instead he just kept his eyes on the drink and spoke with a terseness that belied his emotions.]
Tall. Leather jacket. Red scarf. Carries a bat covered in barbed wire. Calls it Lucille.
[The last word, the name, was snarled. It came out like a big cat growling, complete with his mouth changing shape briefly to accommodate before it reverted back to human. But now that he'd gotten a little anger out, more of it started boiling under the surface, looking for release. His fingers tapped out on this glass, nails lengthening and curling into something between human and claws. There was a twitchyness to his nose, the ghostly outline of a muzzle flickering in and out every few seconds while he growled low in his throat to himself.]
[She downs the rest of her whiskey before placing the empty glass on the table. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.]
Wanna go shoot some shit? Or destroy something? [Her tone switches half-way through asking, finally taking notice of the ... changes that Daryl seems to be going through. What. The. Fuck? She shouldn't be surprised, given everything else that happens here, but .. uh. This wasn't what she was expecting.] Or, uh. Do I need to cage you up or something so you don't claw my fucking face off?
[Daryl was completely unaware of the changes going on with him. He hadn't had much of a chance to look at the damn folder they'd presented him with before he blacked out and woke up at Kaneki's cafe. And at that point he hadn't really cared to go back and ask. Things hadn't been good for him so...
His head snapped up and another snarl escaped him followed by a low growl.]
That ain't funny.
[How the fuck could she joke about putting him in a cage? That was such bullshit. That was...
Another snarl and Daryl was up and pacing, claws forming and disappearing in blinks as the shadow of tail swung behind him while his anger rose. He internally berated himself over the 'joke' because she didn't know what he'd been through. She didn't know he'd been put in a tiny fucking closet and kept like an animal for at least a week if not more. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been in that damn room with that damn song and Negan feeding him dog food like he was some sort of animal to be broken and tamed.
Daryl didn't mutter to himself, but it was clear he was getting more and more worked up until it hit a point where he ceased to be human and in his place was a highly agitated ghostly-looking-tiger. The tiger continued to pace in front of the coffee table, tail whipping about as it remained alter for any danger.]
Uh, it wasn't .. supposed .. to be .. It was a real question about my safety, man.
[Rosa's up off of the couch, whiskey glass still in-hand, slowly backing away from where Daryl's .. uh, seething and growling. She'd forgotten about the whole "powers" thing outside of her own knife-wielding ability, but she's starting to remember, seeing him transform like fucking Michael Jackson in Thriller. Only .. for real.
She vaguely wonders whether she'll have to dance herself out of danger as the zombies crawl up from the sewers.] Dude, what the fuck? [She mutters as his transformation finishes, and she's got her back pinned up against the wall.
Serial killers? No problem. Criminals with weapons? No big deal. See-through tiger things that were once humans? Not so much. She reaches into her jacket to grab a large saber, as well as a smaller hunting knife, wielding one in each hand. She has no intention of using them, but .. she also isn't sure how much of the thing prowling her living room is still her friend and how much has been taken over by .. whatever it was.]
Dude, what the fuck? I was kidding about the cage thing. We can still go fuck some shit up if you want, though.
[Daryl doesn't understand her like this. Not really. What he understands is that he's near someone he trusts and they seem to be just as agitated as he is, which means there must be danger near by. And since he can't see it immediately, or smell it, he needs to go investigating.
So the tiger starts moving around, sniffing at everything and exploring the house. Tail still twitching, but careful not to knock anything over.
Unless it's suspicious.
Like that strangely shaped rock with the flowers coming out of it.]
Yeah, just uh - explore, if you want. Do you want some ... I don't fucking know, something to eat? Meat? What do fucking ghost tigers eat, for fuck's sake?
[Rosa's keeping a respectable distance from the thing, though slightly following it - mostly out of curiosity.]
[The cat explored quite a bit, not at all phased by Rosa following it. That was sensible. She should stay where he could protect her from whatever the threat was. Though after some time, he had to come to the conclusion that the threat was gone. Probably ran away. They seemed safe enough. Nothing smelled weird and she was less agitated, though still wary.
Since he couldn't find anything wrong, he decided to attempt to soothe her and reassure her that everything was okay now. He padded around for a bit before walking right up to her and rubbing against her side, chuffing a bit with friendly, happy snorts.]
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pop_of_color) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2017-10-10 03:56 pm
no subject
[He pauses at the last text and has to control the hurt that wells up. He knew she joked around but it was hard to tell if it was joking in text and harder lately to make himself stop feeling shit that shouldn't matter. He has to take a deep breath and remind himself Rosa is an asshole. A nice asshole.
Fucking hell, why was it so hard to feel fucking normal anymore? Even if it wasn't a joke, it was still stupid and not worth taking personal.
Fuck.]
didn't mean it like that.
no subject
you're not gonna win
[The length of time that passes after she's jokingly retracted her statement makes her realize ... fuck. He might've taken it seriously.
Only because she actually does like him does he eventually get a text that says:]
kidding about taking it back.
even if you're not too happy to be here.
no subject
[it's another long while before he manages to text again. takes too long to get control of himself enough to do it. To get calm. relatively calm.]
lotta shit went down back there. in my world. ain't really want to be there, neither. but i should be. know it don't matter.
none of them are here no more. it's just me.
no subject
grab a drink?
[She isn't ignoring or dismissing the magnitude of what he's revealed; she's opting to talk about it in person instead.]
no subject
or just a place that ain't where no one else is
no subject
here when you feel like it.
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no subject
ACTION
no subject
.. Actually, that isn't so bad. Rosa isn't one for talking, anyway.
It doesn't take long for her round up a bottle of whiskey 3/4 full and two glasses. The thing he might notice, if he's able to come out of himself enough to do so, is how tastefully decorated the place is. Almost like it's been done by a professional from Better Homes and Gardens. Things are coordinated, there are beautiful splashes of color throughout the room, and everything looks immaculate, yet lived-in. It's one of her hidden talents that she's only revealed to Ruby. Once.
She sits down on the couch, placing the glasses and bottle down on the table. She fills both glasses up almost to the brim and hands him one, nursing the other herself. She doesn't initiate conversation, instead letting the silence fill the space aroud and between them. She figures he'll talk when he's ready.]
no subject
He immediately feels self-concious about his appearance, but it's honestly not that bad. He's showered and his clothes - while the shirt is missing pocket - are clean. No holes otherwise. No real mud or dirt on the shoes. And no vest.
But he wasn't dirtying anything up. So that was a plus.
He sat down at the table, on the floor, thankful for the silence. It helped calm his nerves a lot more than he wanted to let on. More so than the whiskey he knocked back, eyes shutting tight at the initial burn.
Eventually he grunted out:]
Thanks.
no subject
It's also worth noting that she has some seriously large ass swords on one wall, in size order from smallest to largest. The largest is fucking huge.
She sips at her whiskey and, once he's downed his, slides the bottle over towards him. Open invitation to drink whatever he wants, no reservations.]
Yeah, man. Don't worry about it.
no subject
His fingers tapped at the side of the glass, the nervous fidgeting returning as he got ready to talk. She hadn't asked, but it was just...]
Carl left 'fore I did. Not long before, but he was the last of 'em. Rick and him and Enid and Andrea. They was the ones here.
[And Negan. Fucking Negan.]
Rick left first. Then Andrea. Then Enid. Then Carl.
[He paused to take a drink instead of letting Negan's name escape his lips. The agitation building to the point he tried to drown it in whiskey rather than let it out.]
no subject
Once he does start speaking, Rosa's gaze lands somewhere in the liquid in her glass, though it's obvious that she's listening. Even if .. she doesn't totally get what he's talking about.]
Here as in .. here? In this place? These people you knew from before?
no subject
His head dropped and nodded again.]
Were... were family. Weren't blood, but... they're family.
[There was a pause before he gave a bitter snort, half in amusement and half in pain.]
Andrea shot me in the head once. Was a bad shot, cause I survived.
no subject
That's what the 99 is for me. Family. I don't give a shit about my actual family and not seeing them again because I'm here's one of the few good things going for me. But .. not having the 99 .. that's .. [She stops, realizing she's teetering on showing too much emotion, as far as Rosa standards go. So, she stops.] I get it, is what I'm saying.
What happened when you went back? Do you remember?
no subject
Yeah.
[He finished the rest of that glass a lot faster than the first and poured a third.]
A lot of shit. That's what happened.
[A short beat before he went on:]
We're... we're under attack by... by this fucker who showed up here a few months ago. He ain't here no more, but I didn't know him then. Now I do. He shows up again, I'm gonna kill him.
no subject
And obviously upset on his behalf.]
Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, man. I'll help you kill the fucker. I've got an endless supply of fucking blades, man. Anything you want. We'll take the fucker down.
I mean, if you want help.
Or whatever else you need, man.
What'd this fucker look like?
no subject
Tall. Leather jacket. Red scarf. Carries a bat covered in barbed wire. Calls it Lucille.
[The last word, the name, was snarled. It came out like a big cat growling, complete with his mouth changing shape briefly to accommodate before it reverted back to human. But now that he'd gotten a little anger out, more of it started boiling under the surface, looking for release. His fingers tapped out on this glass, nails lengthening and curling into something between human and claws. There was a twitchyness to his nose, the ghostly outline of a muzzle flickering in and out every few seconds while he growled low in his throat to himself.]
no subject
Wanna go shoot some shit? Or destroy something? [Her tone switches half-way through asking, finally taking notice of the ... changes that Daryl seems to be going through. What. The. Fuck? She shouldn't be surprised, given everything else that happens here, but .. uh. This wasn't what she was expecting.] Or, uh. Do I need to cage you up or something so you don't claw my fucking face off?
no subject
His head snapped up and another snarl escaped him followed by a low growl.]
That ain't funny.
[How the fuck could she joke about putting him in a cage? That was such bullshit. That was...
Another snarl and Daryl was up and pacing, claws forming and disappearing in blinks as the shadow of tail swung behind him while his anger rose. He internally berated himself over the 'joke' because she didn't know what he'd been through. She didn't know he'd been put in a tiny fucking closet and kept like an animal for at least a week if not more. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been in that damn room with that damn song and Negan feeding him dog food like he was some sort of animal to be broken and tamed.
Daryl didn't mutter to himself, but it was clear he was getting more and more worked up until it hit a point where he ceased to be human and in his place was a highly agitated ghostly-looking-tiger. The tiger continued to pace in front of the coffee table, tail whipping about as it remained alter for any danger.]
no subject
[Rosa's up off of the couch, whiskey glass still in-hand, slowly backing away from where Daryl's .. uh, seething and growling. She'd forgotten about the whole "powers" thing outside of her own knife-wielding ability, but she's starting to remember, seeing him transform like fucking Michael Jackson in Thriller. Only .. for real.
She vaguely wonders whether she'll have to dance herself out of danger as the zombies crawl up from the sewers.] Dude, what the fuck? [She mutters as his transformation finishes, and she's got her back pinned up against the wall.
Serial killers? No problem. Criminals with weapons? No big deal. See-through tiger things that were once humans? Not so much. She reaches into her jacket to grab a large saber, as well as a smaller hunting knife, wielding one in each hand. She has no intention of using them, but .. she also isn't sure how much of the thing prowling her living room is still her friend and how much has been taken over by .. whatever it was.]
Dude, what the fuck? I was kidding about the cage thing. We can still go fuck some shit up if you want, though.
no subject
So the tiger starts moving around, sniffing at everything and exploring the house. Tail still twitching, but careful not to knock anything over.
Unless it's suspicious.
Like that strangely shaped rock with the flowers coming out of it.]
no subject
[Rosa's keeping a respectable distance from the thing, though slightly following it - mostly out of curiosity.]
no subject
Since he couldn't find anything wrong, he decided to attempt to soothe her and reassure her that everything was okay now. He padded around for a bit before walking right up to her and rubbing against her side, chuffing a bit with friendly, happy snorts.]
this was ADORABLE