#deathliness

[boltly]

@deathliness is in it for the long haul.

          He’d been wandering all day, and well into the night. Daryl had no plans to sleep, not when he was so sure something would jump out at him sooner or later. Something always did. Thieves like that Jesus guy, walkers, even the bad memories had been nipping at his heels. You made it out, little brother. You’re safe now, but I sure ain’t. How many times did ya stab me, again? Merle’s voice never left in moments of silence. He’d wanted his brother back, but now he’d thank whatever God there might be for his brother to give him a moment of peace. You better watch out, baby bro. Watch your back. Those wings sure ain’t gonna take you anywhere your own two feet can’t. I wouldn’t close my eyes if I were you, neither. Daryl raised an arm, rubbing violently at his face, his eyes, trying to erase the images burned into his brain. How long had it been? What day was it? What was the date..? How could he make a proper grave? I guess you didn’t really love yer big bro after all, huh? That hurts. Stop. Stop it. 

          He willed away the sight of his brother from the darkness of the city, refusing to see him. Not now, not here. And as he turned his gaze, he smelled it. A walker. There was no mistaking that kind of rot, and off in the unfamiliar lighting of the city at night, Daryl saw a shuffling figure. Fists clenched as feet picked up their pace, slamming into the concrete like hammering nails into a coffin. He knew it. He knew it was too good to be true. That there would be walkers here. They were everywhere, of course they’d be here. 

          And when he was nearly on the walker, Daryl let out a shout, a cry full of every emotion he’d repressed that day. If it turned or not, he’d make it turn. He’d look it in the eye as he tackled it to the ground. It wasn’t an adult before it died, but he didn’t care. It was dead, and it shouldn’t have gotten back up. Merle shouldn’t have gotten back up. It didn’t snarl at him, but Daryl didn’t care. One arm pressed against its throat, eyes full of both fiery rage and watery tears, while the other raised, rock in hand. “You should’a just stayed dead, asshole !” He’d do it like he did then. “You should’a stayed dead !” He wouldn’t stop until it didn’t have a face anymore. “You should’a stayed !” Until it wasn’t real anymore.

[fcxrcin]

@deathliness

Sundays were pretty slow. It was usually quiet, unless you went into the other room to purchase some items, but if you were where the books were, it was rather quiet. Like a library, and on sundays, it was even more quiet if that was possible. Currently, that’s where Hansol is. She’s tidying up the books that are either forgotten to be put back or books that are in disorganized order. It doesn’t bother her any. Some people are just in rush. The smell of books are always welcoming to her. That and the mixture of fresh pastries and coffee. You can never go wrong with a book, a good food and some good drinks. 

Once the books are put back, she turns, only to notice a face she’s never seen before. It doesn’t seem he has anything on his table and so, Hansol is approaching him. Once close enough, her tails perk up happily, she greets with a friendly smile, “Good evening, and take you for stopping by NokNok Cafe. Is there anything I can get for you today?”

[boltly]

Bringing them food (probably from a food truck; 'cause it reminded him of his dad).

MEME .   |   ACCEPTING .

          Daryl’s gaze shifted from the food James had brought over up to the young man’s eyes. He wore that mask so often, yet it still sent the occasional chill down the archer’s spine. Reminded him of his brother - only James still had humanity in his eyes, where Merle had only had… emptiness. He took the extended hot dog with a short sigh, then managed a faint smile. Their meeting had been anything but pleasant, and there were still times that Daryl regretted it. He should’ve been more careful, and far less vitriolic. Senseless anger and violence against a kid who was just… coping in his own way. James returned to sitting on the bench opposite Daryl where he’d been before he got up, and the pair settled into relative silence. The sounds of the city gave Daryl plenty to focus on - distant conversations, shuffling of lively footsteps, honking cars, even the chirping of a few birds who’d gathered around the food truck’s modest seating area. Daryl ripped off a piece of the bun and tossed it to them, watching as they cautiously stepped closer before finally digging in. 

          He’d been in this city, on this strange island, for nearly 3 weeks now, yet he still hadn’t adjusted to the peace. It felt like a dream. The calm before the storm. He was just waiting for the clouds, always waiting. He set down his food and licked his fingers of ketchup and mustard before rubbing off the excess on his jeans. “…Thanks.” Came a muttered knife, slicing the silence the pair often found themselves in when together. “Y’ didn’t hafta get me anythin, though.” In truth, Daryl wasn’t used to people doing him favors. He already felt something akin to shame around James, particularly since their first meeting had been the archer in such a vulnerable state. He hoped James didn’t feel pity, though Daryl would never wound his pride by asking. “Next one’s on me, kid.”

[boltly]

💡 What inspires you to write the muse?

MEME .   |   ACCEPTING .

          I suppose the most obvious answer would be something along the lines of ‘his playlist’ or re-watching some of my favorite scenes, but really, I’m inspired to write Daryl because I’ve always felt the writing of TWD is very hit and miss. There are some scenes like those linked above that I absolutely adore, and others that just make me think “why was that even included? why did they say that?”. The show could be so much more, and while I am still actively watching with 7-9 still to see, I just want Daryl to have a real chance. I hope that by interacting with some people here, they can see TWD in a different light, as portrayed by someone who isn’t a raving fan of the show. Maybe introduce some people to an incredibly real and raw character who’s relatable to so many, despite his age. That’s not to say I’m overestimating my ability as a writer! I know I still have a lot to learn both about literature and my muse, but there’s so much potential here whether you’re a fan of zombies and/or horror or not.

[boltly]

⌨ What’s a situation you’ve always wanted to RP with the muse?

MEME .   |   ACCEPTING .

          A fun, specific scenario would be someone accidentally calling him “dad” instead of Daryl. He would be thrown off at first - “I ain’t your dad” would certainly be his initial reaction, but it would nag at him. After Judith, and seeing Beth and Noah and Carl grow, it’s something he’s considered. He’s not exactly young anymore, but Daryl believes you’re never too old to have a kid, so long as you can raise it properly. He’s never considered romance or even settling down, since he’s been moving around for most of his life, but parenthood is something some part of him has always wondered if he wouldn’t be good at. Or at least better at than his parents.

[boltly]

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

MEME .   |   ACCEPTING .

          “We doin’ this again?” Daryl could only sigh and roll his eyes. “I’m not sayin’ you gotta kill to get shit done. I’m just sayin’ that when it hits the fan, y’ gotta be ready. If it’s you or them, you gotta make sure it’s you.” 

          “If a raider’s got a gun to your head? If a walker catches you by surprise?” He did his best not to raise his voice, but Daryl refused to see another kid die because they were too nice for the world. “You do what you gotta do, an’ you don’t have any regrets.” He crossed his arms over his chest, holding eye contact for a brief yet intense moment before looking away. “There ain’t always gonna be ways out. You can’t always run an’ hide. I ain’t sayin’ you gotta go lookin’ for trouble, an’ I ain’t sayin’ leave people behind. I’m sayin’ you take care of yourself an’ the people you care about first. You can feel bad after if you want, but ya can’t feel shit if yer dead, kid.”

[isolaradiale]

Applying as James from The Walking Dead (game). His application can be found at "/whisperer," following his URL; or at "one" where his links are.

Welcome to scenic Isola Radale, James!

You’ll be housed in Apartment 358!

You can keep your mask.

-- mod spica