backwaterbelle | eudio

Don't need a damn break. [ His tone is bitter at that, and it's clear he believes it - he's got some real guilt about being here when more deserving people are stuck at home. Or .. frozen in time? Christ, he doesn't know how the fuck it works. But he's the one who understands survival. He's the one who got them through winter after winter, who can wander off and be fine.

Daryl's a better person in the apocalypse. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to go back. ]

Makes me feel sick.

[ There. He thunks his empty beer can down on the counter and pushes the aluminum tab into the can itself, a dull rattling noise following. ]

S'why I might be moving in with somebody. Gotta get something done 'til I can get these fuckers to bring in someone else from where I'm from.

[Rogue remains quiet at the backlash her response causes, watching him with more understanding than he probably expected. Her world's on the brink of being destroyed (again), not to mention her probable death. Logan's healing factor could only do so much if he drags the blade up through her torso. She doesn't have an apocalypse of zombies waiting for her, but she does have friends depending on her, even if they don't know it.]

Don't force it then. Start slow.

[Her eyebrows lift together at the mention of him moving in with someone else and that worries her further, not because she's jealous (okay maybe a little), but because he's just started to kind of return to society and moving in with anyone is a big decision. Then again, she's not his keeper and maybe he's been spending healthier amounts of time with other individuals. Rogue only knows what he tells her and she witnesses.

Slowly, she sets her beer can down on the counter and pushes away from it, towards where he leaned, moving like one would approach a wild animal, a deer perhaps, without spooking it. With her eyes on his she reaches up to gently push his bangs off of his forehead, her fingers then trailing softly down along his jaw. He's free to move away from her touch if he wants, she's left enough room for escape.]

Buryin' it deeper, whatever it is, ain't gonna help sweetheart. Just gonna make it feel wrong, mess further with your head. Trust me, ah know.

[ Just because he's moving in with someone doesn't mean he's doing anything with that someone - in this case it's because Alice's world is like his. Alice isn't like him, she seems more sad and tired than skittish and traumatized like he is (about the touching thing, the apocalypse thing is another issue entirely), but they can hold hands and watch movies and it never has to be anything else. Not exactly wild sex parties.

He doesn't pull away from Rogue, but he thinks about it. Daryl watches her, his pale blue eyes surprisingly clear and sharp; a man who looks dead asleep and drunk most of the time but doesn't ever miss a damn thing. ]

My dad beat the shit out of me, [ he says dispassionately. ] Lots of kids get beaten though, I just. Never did nothing with nobody else, always looked bad. That's all. Ain't never wanted to.

[ And now he's 40 years old - probably older, it's not like he kept track later in life and sure as hell wasn't keeping up after the turn - and hasn't ever so much as kissed anyone. Fucking great for cuddletown. ]

[Rogue doesn't know any of that, and it's not her place to ask regardless of her curiosity on the matter. She'll just keep an eye on his mental health from her vantage point as a friend.

Her eyes don't shy away from his because she knows how sharp he is and how much he sees in the world, in the people he meets. He'll see no pity in her gaze at his point blank admission, her fingertips shifting so it's her hand cupping his jaw tenderly, her own tightening as a mix of anger and sadness roll through her at the thought of his father shit kicking him enough to leave scars.]

An' you ain't gotta do it here if you still feel that way, but ah'm here if you ever want to pursue that path. Not 'cause ah think you're a charity case or nothin', it ain't ever gonna be like that. Ah like spending time with you an' know what it's like to be starved of touchin' others, an' at the risk of scarin' you away ah think you're attractive.

[ The real disturbing thing about Daryl's scars is any halfway decent look at the ones on his back reveal themselves to be left by a knife carving lines out of him, or a whip. Will Dixon was a hell of a guy. Abuse so lifelong and ingrained that even when his father was bitten, Daryl couldn't bring himself to harm the man.

He hates people knowing. He hates mentioning it. What a pathetic complaint. Boo hoo, someone was mean to me and it gave me a lifetime of issues. Countless people suffer what he did and worse and they turn out fine. There are days when Daryl's self loathing rests quietly on an even keel, and then there are days when it's a black hole, crushing all light. Guess what kind of day this. ]

Ain't starved for nothing. Don't think so, anyway.

[Seeing those would break her heart and spark fruitless anger because there's nothing that Rogue can do now to take away that experience, but she could understand the complicated matter of crazy parents. See: Mystique.

He may see it as pathetic, but so much more clicks into place about him, confirming suspicions she had simply from observing. It doesn't change her opinion of her friend, and it sure as hell doesn't make her think any less than him. Quite the opposite actually. He's a survivor in more ways than physically still being alive after years in an apocalyptic world. Rogue stays there with him, hand still cupping his jaw as her thumb moved through the scruff on his chin with a slight smile.]

Sometimes somethin' ain't there for so long it's better to forget about it as a possibility. Least that's how it was with me. Hard to miss somethin' you ain't never had properly before y'know?

Ain't something I think about. It don't mean anything to me. [ Who cares? He's a survivor, yeah, and he's survived just fine without sex or dating. Sometimes he thinks about concepts like 'asexual', but all that shit's beyond him, and it's not entirely accurate. Not innately, anyway. Just how it's turned out. Daryl's not crying himself to sleep over being lonely and he's not jacking off non-stop, he's ... he's just himself. It bugs him when he's pressed but he moves away or says no and that's that. He doesn't want to change it. The defense mechanism of apathy has been built up over so many years as to be effective, and the thought of tearing down that protection is terrifying.

(But he has to change it.) ]

I want 'em to be okay though, [ he says quietly, almost a harsh whisper. ] I can't.. I can't leave knowing I could have stopped it and didn't.

[Rogue slowly pulls her hand back while still standing close, putting the ball entirely back in his quart. Her head shakes at his second statement, knowing that to be incorrect on at least some levels.] Remember when ah told you ‘bout my power? [She pauses so she can search his eyes with hers.] That meant somethin’ sugah, least to me.

[When he speaks again, her heart twists for him. He’s here for his people, just like her, and her empathy in that moment ran deep, nearly taking her breath away. She wants to pull him into a tight embrace, but is uncertain as to how he’ll react in that moment.]

You’re a good man, a strong man Daryl. You can do this. But, if you want some help, ah’ve got your back.

You didn't have a choice. Neither did I. 'Til I did.

[ And his choice was: Fuck no. A choice both unhealthy and self-protective. Daryl understands Rogue, he really does. He's just not there yet.

After a moment he reaches out and takes her hands in his, just holding them lightly between them, staring down at them. Hers are ... pretty, almost delicate-looking, against his scarred and weathered skin. ]

Ain't none of those things. This is ... okay. Though.

Feels weird havin' that choice after so long without it. [It's part question and part statement about herself, one that she expected held overlap with his experience.

She honestly didn't expect him to initiate anymore touching, but she smiles gently at the feel of his calloused hands around her own, fingertips nudging his in a little gesture of quiet affection.]

Ah think you are all of those things. [His hands receive a little squeeze.] Ah'm glad sugah.

[ Daryl doesn't hate it - hugging her, holding her hand. He doesn't hate holding Alice's hand either, or sitting with their shoulders pressed up against each other. He thinks-- he thinks maybe if it were Carol, it'd be easier. But she's not here. There is some ease, at least, in simply thinking of her.

He's quiet for a long moment, not looking up from their joined hands.

Eventually, ]

You wanna order take out?

[It's always easier with someone from home, or at least someone who can relate directly to one's experiences. She's run into it here, with Erik, and it's both emotionally dangerous and beautifully comfortable. In other words, right in Rogue's wheelhouse. See: older men with issues.

She remains quiet, dropping her gaze to a midpoint between their hands and his face so she can watch both. At his question, her stomach makes a noise and she can't help but chuckle.]

Ah think that was a 'yes'.

[ Alright then, food. Daryl goes about figuring out where to order from (pan-Asian of some kind; he doesn't actually really know the difference) and what to get, efficient and obviously thankful for the break from the subject at hand. This is his doing - he brought it up. But his on-board batteries for powering emotionally significant conversation are very small.

He ends up on the sofa, staring at the giant pink narwhal, not sure what he's doing. ]

[Rogue generally stays out of his way, but she does request something in particular for dinner rather than him ordering blindly for her. There's understanding on her end that he needs to gather himself a bit, recharge his batteries emotionally, but there's also not much else to do in his apartment that wouldn't be considered snooping. Her solution is to give him a bit of time, and then bring her nearly full beer over with a second, fresh one for Daryl.

Once she offers it to him, Rogue takes a seat across from him on the coffee table.]

If you want me to leave, ah can head out after dinner, but ah like spendin' time with you.

[ There's not even anything interesting to be snooped; the apartment is pretty empty besides the mentioned points of (dis)interest. Though Daryl has been spending some time here, it's obviously still not very much time.

He looks over at Rogue, expression unreadable. After a moment he takes the offered beer and holds it lightly, not opening it just yet. ]

Stay.

[She's quiet for as long as Daryl needs relative silence, waiting patiently for his word or body language on the matter, her face gently concerned. At his word, he receives a warm smile because it's a step and she's proud.

In an effort to lighten the mood, she smirked while taking a sip of her beer, eyebrows waggling.] One step closer to braidin' your hair. Aw, yiss.

[ They were having such a nice moment. Daryl leans back, eyes narrowed. Suspicious. ]

Well now you gotta leave.

[ --He's not serious, but still. Leave his hair alone. It's probably too greasy for you to tolerate anyway, Rogue, at least most of the time. He showered last night so he's okay for now. Decontaminated, if you will. ]

[They were, but she didn't want him to get lost in his thoughts too deep. She knows how that road can twist far away. Rogue merely smirks at his comment, taking another sip of her beer while her eyes playfully challenged his suspicious peer.

She'll tell him how happy she is that he's asked her to stay later.]

But the food ain't even here. That'd be mighty rude of you sugah.

Who's lying to you telling tales about me being polite? [ He says in a scoffing tone, but it's clear (hopefully) that he doesn't actually expect Rogue to leave. Daryl doesn't have too many tells, 'acting' folding into his standard behavior almost seamlessly. ] My hair looks fine.

Ah got a real good source.

[She throws him a wink even under the terrible weight of his scolding, even daring to reach out (slowly as to not startle him) and attempt to ruffle his hair and mess all his styling efforts up. Ha. Styling efforts.]

You always wear it long?

eudio | ic inbox

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i thought i replied to this wtf @me

hdu