[OPEN] Who put me in your way to find?

[hadnoright]

Who: Daisy Tonner (hadnoright) & you!
What: Catch-All for Daisy
When: August
Where: The forest, the hot springs, downtown, etc.
Warnings: Violence, animal death/hunting, intrusive thoughts, nudity, others added as needed



1. What right had you not to let me die? [the forest]

Those who travel out into the forest during the day may find themselves running into a short, relatively petite human-looking woman bodily slamming into a deer or boar that's almost as big as she is. The creature hits the ground with surprising force and when the woman rises, it's whilst wiping the blood from her mouth and rolling her shoulders.

Most of the time, she already knows someone's there before they say a word. So, the animal-like energy to her posture melts away like it was never there at all and she turns toward her audience and says something like, "Don't mind me. Working."

Unless, that is, you've managed to actually sneak up on her. It's not an easy thing to do, but when she's in the heat of a Hunt tunnel vision can take its hold and it's in those moments where a sudden noise might make the Hunter's gaze snap towards it like a beast startled. And it's in those moments where Daisy is most distinctly inhuman, the odd yellow eyes and the teeth and the animal way she holds herself.

And it's in those moments that it takes all of Daisy's restraint not to give into the sound of blood pounding in her ears, telling her to attack. With a growl, she shakes her head and takes a step back. "Jesus fucking christ. Don't sneak around!"

2. Ooh but did I even know what I was asking for? [hot springs]

She doesn't get aches and pains like most people in her profession would after a while, but that doesn't mean the hot springs aren't relaxing in their own right. So, occasionally Daisy makes the trip up to the springs, strips down and slips into the water with zero modesty nor shame about the nudity.

There are scars all over her body, many in places that should've killed her if she hadn't already been long on the way to inhumanity by the time she took the damage that caused them. The biggest, a starburst-like scar marring the back of her shoulder, is only visible if you're looking when she sits up.

3. If I had my way, I'd have missed you more [downtown]

There is a large blonde wolf lying in the yard of Daisy and Erin's house. The wolf may appear at first glance to be asleep, but in reality if you look closer she's a little too visibly tuned into her surroundings for that. Still, she is relaxing. Sunbathing, even.

Occasionally, a Mawhile appears from another part of the garden to try and bite her tail. She seems completely unfazed by this.

Wildcard

Hit me up to plot something or just throw something at me.

Comments

[hadnoright]

"Sure. That. And caring. Being cared about."

This is the thing, about Daisy. For all her avoidance and discomfort with talking about tricky, personal things, she's surprisingly self-aware at times and very good at being blunt.

[abhorrently]

"You're somewhat stuck with it, Daisy. You tangled yourself up too closely with me and other people, and now suffer the consequences. It's part of being someone with connections, or so I've gathered."

There's a question in her mind, but she buries it. Fortunately, Daisy isn't another psychic, can't drag it from her by force. It gets to hide under earth, shrouded, until maybe it feels like the right day to dig it back up.

[hadnoright]

Dryly as anything, like it's really just that simple, "People stopped letting themselves get pushed away. Wasn't for lack of trying."

[abhorrently]

"Trying, but their hands were already holding yours, so to speak."

If she smoked, this would be the time for a cigarette. As it is, she makes herself chuckle, short and humorless.

"If I make a joke about being domesticated, how quickly would you try to kick my ass?"

[hadnoright]

Daisy flashes a sharp smile that only plays at being truly dangerous. "Depends how fast you could run."

[abhorrently]

"If you give me a head start, you'd enjoy the pursuit more before making me take all my words back."

She's fast, but not as fast as a Hunt avatar - this she knows and accepts.

(Is this the time? Probably not. Does she care? Also not.)

[hadnoright]

Daisy makes a low 'mmm' sound. "Tempting. Hunts really have been. Lacking."

And then she doesn't have to think about the complicated emotional stuff for a bit longer. Bonus.

[abhorrently]

"I might not be able to give you the fear, fair warning, but it still could be fun."

Because she knows and trusts Daisy, that if her teeth are in Fever's neck with killing intent, it's for a damn good reason. A distraction, that's all this would be, in the end.

[hadnoright]

Daisy idly shrugs a shoulder. "Sometimes the Hunt's good on its own. Used to get a surprisingly strong kick just going for girls in bars."

Not a meal, but... something a little more fun, a little more satisfying. And definitely distracting.

[abhorrently]

"Used to?"

The look on Fever's face says enough, as if she isn't thinking about how vivid the image still is of the day they actually decided to start talking.

"I've never gotten to pretend a friend's a true stranger before. Here I thought I'd just start running and see where we ended up."

[hadnoright]

There's a brow quirk before Fever goes on, and a bark of a laugh when she does. "I mean. Keeps things fresh."

[abhorrently]

"I can work with that."

She mulls the idea over in her head and comes to some conclusion.

"Okay. Give me a few minutes. And when you find me, we don't know each other."

That's all the warning Daisy gets before Fever turns on her heel and darts away into the woods. She's swift, and it feels freeing to just go, knowing that her priority is to simply evade Daisy for as long as she can manage. Pretend she's someone else, someone being truly hunted down.

[hadnoright]

Daisy plays fair. A few minutes go by before she actively seeks out Fever's scent on the air, even if she never quite stopped being aware of it. Then she cracks her neck, takes a breath, and runs after Fever's trail.

[abhorrently]

She knows Daisy's tracking her, which is why she doesn't let up. Zigzags, doubles back on her own trail, takes a quick diversion on trees with low enough branches. Pretend. Let your mind slip back into something like being pursued, the agitation of it, giving yourself over to the experience. Something that plays with the edges, like a knife pressing just enough into her skin.

She could cast a haste spell, she knows, but it would leave traces. The light in her eyes, the scent of her magic being utilized, and it's all for nothing if she loses concentration. To not use it requires more focus than to use it at all.

When she pauses to take a breath, she's still on the edge, listening for sounds that could be Daisy.

[hadnoright]

Intelligent prey is so much more satisfying than the relative simplicity of the same animal instincts time and again. Daisy never truly loses her trail, but she has to think, she has to stay quick, and it's already a better Hunt than she's had in weeks.

She's quiet, as she chases. Unnaturally so. It's that odd dream logic of the Fears that plays around the edges of even their most physical extensions of will. The Hunter is nigh upon silent, until it's most threatening for her not to be silent, then there are little things—footsteps and breathing where there wasn't before, hints of movement in the near distance.

[abhorrently]

The little things that are enough to send Fever darting off again, resolved to keep it confusing, to vary her speed, to decide where she's going at the last moment. She's almost felled by a stray tree root, but catches herself, nothing worse than a hesitation. She's aware of how loud she is, in the relative stillness - so loud. Every motion feels like it's calling attention to itself.

Her back feels exposed. But it's her throat she worries about more, some muted recollection of having claws tear through it. She touches it, reassures herself that she's intact, eyes darting around for any sign. Oh, but she knows Daisy isn't that sloppy. Anything there, that's intentional.

What if she was a stranger? Made to bleed fear into the air, Fever trying to dig into her own head to let it out enough to be satisfying. And then she hits it, an idea that makes her squirm a little in discomfort but a strange unsettled delight. It's not her that says when this ends, right? It's over only when it's over. Imaginary as it is, it works - just enough, and she wonders if the hunter can taste it.

[hadnoright]

Daisy could drag this out for as long as she pleases. It's a game she's played many times, letting the prey keep thinking they've got a chance—it didn't always pay off, not when she was less experienced, but these days?

If she wanted to, she could've cut this short three twists and turns through the trees ago. Instead, she gives Fever enough rope to tie herself in knots with and draws it out a little longer, really takes the time to indulge in the feeling, in what fear does touch the air.

But, eventually, something shifts. And Daisy lunges.

[abhorrently]

She lunges, and Fever tries to move out of the way of what she anticipates, but it doesn't quite work. She's unbalanced by what of Daisy does hit her, and down she goes, the ground the only place to end up. Her mind screams so as to not lash out with instinctual magic, and she grips onto the little fantasy in her mind, trying to scramble back with the eyes and the look of someone seeing a stranger, an unknown, just like she promised.

(And in a different part of her head, she sighs, burning the sight into her memory. Gods, but Daisy looks beautiful like this.)

[hadnoright]

Daisy catches herself in a low, animalistic crouch. There is a wildness to her, now—in her posture, in her eyes—and yet she clings to control of herself with a vice grip. There is a balance, here. Letting enough of the beast leak through, listening just enough to the blood, to be what she needs to be and yet to not snap. To look at Fever like a stranger, like an attractive bit of prey, and not the dangerous woman and friend she is.

The advance is slower, now. She draws up to her feet to follow Fever's scrambling with a confident ease, to loom over her as if twice the meagre height she really is.

[abhorrently]

It's her presence that does it, the confidence and ease that makes Daisy seem like she encompasses all the space around. She's a stranger, she's not her friend - Fever keeps telling herself that. Holding back, because being in this position usually would not mean she was even close to defenseless. But right now, what Daisy needs is someone in that space. Vulnerable, even though it runs counter to every one of Fever's instincts. The sort who might beg prettily for her life.

She could ask what she wants. Could skip to asking please, don't hurt me, but rejects it as ultimately too pathetic to be believed. Instead, she slows down with moving back, still trying to catch her breath from her flight, and looks at her. Limbs in the metaphorical trap. Like she's trying to find an opening to get up and start running again, to escape, and seeing nothing yet.

(She won't escape. That's not how this game needs to go.)

[hadnoright]

"Nice try."

She advances even as Fever slows, stepping into the space between Fever's lower legs with one foot, the other planted firmly on the outside. Quite literally stepping up into her space, gaze never straying.

[abhorrently]

"What do you want from me?"

Big eyes, uncertain tone. She doesn't know why she was pursued so. Facing down the predator on the losing side, aware of her lacking strength.

[hadnoright]

"Still deciding."

She crouches down, looking Fever in the face with a near unblinking scrutiny, like she's looking for something below the surface. A finger comes up under Fever's chin.

[abhorrently]

"Don't kill me. Please."

Aware of her heartbeat. Of the blood pumping in her veins, under the skin. How fragile it is, easily split under the hunter's claws, and how all prey wants so desperately to live, even when caught.

[hadnoright]

"Mm. Think that'd be a waste."

The tip of the claw on her thumb brushes against Fever's lower lip. Her eyes are darker, now, where her pupils have blown wide with interest where they were once dagger-sharp slivers.