I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

[dirtyredneck]

WHO: Daryl Dixon, Mako Mori + Open
WHERE: Porter Cities & The House
WHEN: All November
WHAT: Catch-All!
WARNINGS: References Zombies Walkers, Kaiju, Abuse, General Violence and Gore are likely in a few threads.


Convention Circuit - A porter city near you
Having finally said goodbye to his Government assigned job, Daryl now had the free time to pursue projects he wanted to. For the most part. He was, however, still a contracted spokesman for Bow-Man Hunting and Hunting Season was well underway. With it came a convention circuit.

Daryl hadn't given much thought to the clause in his contract that had to do with personal appearances. He figured that he might have to make two, maybe three in a year because how many conventions could there be? 70. There were 70 conventions that Bow-Man Hunting had booths at. Every. Year. 26 for just the hunting and fishing industry. Not the general populace and 'enthusiasts', just the industry. The other 44 were the 'fan' conventions for the rest. The people that liked to go out like Daryl used to, for a weekend or a week in the woods. Or who wanted to prepare for a disaster, called themselves 'preppers'. Or for the rich asshole 'survival enthusiasts' who treated it all like a game. Gun shows, even, since families were often dragged along and left to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at whatever was in the dealer's hall and they could make a quick buck selling older models there along with their knife lines.

The only good part about the personal appearance clause was that he wasn't required to be at any shows (barring health or other negotiated absences) that weren't at the Porter Cities. The bad part was that he was required to be there for conventions in the Porter Cities. Which was why he could easily be found (looking very uncomfortable and grumpy, with shoulders hunched and arms crossed) by his adoring fans (Dear Lord how the hell did shooting one guy in the ass and posing for a couple pictures get him this much attention?) as well as people who actually wanted to talk shop.

Please, please, please, for the love of whatever you find holy or sacred or just downright okay, give him a 'business' reason to walk away from those fans crowding the side of the booth, taking pictures, and generally harassing him with a barrage of half-shouted questions and attempts to get his attention.


Enchilada Night - The House - November 3rd (open party for The Group, tag around/threadjack as you like)
Official purchase date had been October 23rd. Keys were handed out starting on the 25th. Official move-in date hadn't really been decided, as Daryl was still figuring out if he wanted to live on the property 'full time' or stick to the De Chima place. Mako's increased presence in day to day activity was pulling him closer and closer to Nonah as they'd have an easier time working their own personal touches into a new place than one of them taking up space somewhere the other had already established. Plus the De Chima house didn't really have space for the ravens Daryl was only a week or so away from formally adopting. The House did. And more they could add on to, as well.

Hell, he had already decided to move and just hadn't emotionally accepted it yet. He liked his housemates. Clark was quiet, but friendly enough. Betty always showed an interest in him and he was going to worry about her like crazy with Bruce still gone and her not knowing what to do with herself. And Catherine? He'd made her one of his almost as soon as he'd met her. They were kindred spirits from worlds where life as it was known in this one had ended.

Daryl wasn't really able to do a 'clean cut', but he could try to make the move-in more concrete. No better way to do that than with food. And free food, to boot. His last day on the job at the Cantina he'd been assigned to became something of a welcome-home move-in party. The restaurant was sad to see him go, but the employees had liked him well enough to fudge a few numbers on the books with 'remakes' and 'expired product' to send him packing with a good two dozen fresh enchiladas, a pile of tamales, and a few elotes.

Made for a great mini-feast with the family that none of them had to do the work for.


Wildcard/OOC
Daryl will largely be around Nonah and De Chima during November. Heropa will become less of a haunt the further into the month we get. If you've got an idea for a thread, you can post it or PM me to work it out beforehand so we're on the same page. And if you'd like a specific prompt, PM me and I'll set it up in the comments.

Also, feel free to tag in whatever style is most comfortable for you, I have no problem matching!

Comments

[driftsintobuffetline]

"Has she ever told you about the Kwoon? They used to use a dojo-like setting to coordinate Drift Partners. People would combat each other and in doing so, would see who they were compatible with. It wasn't about winning. It was really kind of about being evenly matched, both in skill and temperament. Why don't you try...doing stuff together? Something you can both do, equally well."

He didn't know Daryl at all, and aside from that crossbow, he had very little to go off of. They couldn't very well shoot arrows at each other, that wouldn't end well even if Daryl were the best shot in the world. They needed something they had in common... But ...no, ok. Newt DID know one other thing about him.

"I've got an idea," he pushed up from the chair and moved to the adjoining kitchen, his voice increasing in volume as he went, just in case Daryl didn't follow. "But bear with this example first. Most Drift partners compete in the kwoon." A few clinks of glass and a cabinet closing again. The sink turned on and Newt filled a glass with water. "Fight, fight, dance metaphor, I'm sure you get it. But it doesn't have to be that. Hermann and I are kind of--well, we're not THAT."

He turned the sink off and made his way back to Daryl to give him the water. "Take it, you sound like you need it. Uh. Anyway! Our thing was fighting in the lab we worked in. Competing ideas, reexamining theories and finding errors in each other's work. I threw Kaiju guts at him. When he gets mad, he--ok...off topic. We were rivals and by being rivals we were evenly matched and we forced each other to get better. So. So my idea is this: Why not go FLYING together? Compare techniques, continue practicing. You said you two met that way. Don't even try to Drift. Just do the flying thing and find your groove. Find the speed that works for you and then whenever you go to Drift, think about flying."

[dirtyredneck]

He took the water offered. Held it for a bit before taking slow, controlled sips. He knew not to down it fast when stressed. Would only make his stomach churn worse.

He'd done some kata practice with Mako. She'd tried to introduce him to her way of fighting and he'd largely resisted any part of it that would mean he was throwing any kind of blow her way. Since drifting the practice had gone smoother because he knew the positions he needed to be in. But he still rejected the idea of sparring with her the way she and Raleigh had. And she hadn't pushed him to because there was no need. They'd been in the Drift. It was active, strong. There was nothing to work towards once they were in it.

Newt's suggestion had him looking at the man straight out. The first time since walking in the door he'd been able to hold his gaze. Daryl breathed in deeply and gave a single, firm nod, "I can do that."

[driftsintobuffetline]

Newt grinned back at him, mentally patting himself on the back for problem-solved. "Awesome."

He bounced on his feet, restless and suddenly without anything to do or any problems to solve.

"Sooo, uh, anything else? I've gotta be honest here with you, man. I really don't know what to make of you."

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's brows creased slightly with the topic change, but he maintained the gaze he'd finally be able to hold. Took another few sips while he tried to work out what the question could mean. Then he shrugged and shook his head. Turned away to set the cup of water down somewhere it wouldn't easily spill or ruin anything if it did.

"Nothin' to make," he said, dismissing himself as a topic of prolonged interest. "From Georgia if that's what you mean."

[driftsintobuffetline]

"Georgia, huh? Peachy..."

Subtlety was never Newt's strong-suit and he was fishing for information. As far as he had determined, EVERYONE here came from somewhere less-than-normal and he was particularly interested in their worlds and current powers. So, he never fully understood what Jo was up against, only that her crowd tended towards the supernatural and something-something-possession and don't go messing with Lucifer or Dean or whatever. But if Daryl was part of that, worth looking into, especially if he was sharing a brain with Mako part-time.

"What'd you do down there in Georgia? I mean, before coming here. Obviously SOMETHING to warrant carrying your crossbow everywhere you go, because De Chima's not exactly hunting territory unless you like rats and pigeons, so you could have left that baby at home, saved yourself the trouble. What're you expecting to run into?"

[dirtyredneck]

"I hunted."

There was stuff that had happened that made him more prone to carry it, but really, in this world, it was just that he didn't have a place he trusted to leave it. Not in general. The House would probably be safe enough once he was fully moved in. And he carried a knife and gun on him at all times anyway.

He straightened up, adjusting the strap. Tilted his head curiously. "You don't got nothin' you don't like leaving layin' around?"

[driftsintobuffetline]

A man of few words. Right. He kind of made Newt think of Herc Hansen, on one of Herc's less sociable days.

"My phone? My glasses? Nah, dude. I came here with nothing and so there's really nothing I have that I need to hold onto." His ring, now, but that wasn't coming off him again for anything, not since he nearly lost it when he had disappeared in July. "My brain is the most useful tool in my arsenal."

[dirtyredneck]

He nodded slowly, blinking at the same pace before he dropped his eyes and shrugged, "Came here with it. Ain't easy to replace. Rest of the stuff I came here with is."

Daryl's arms moved to cross over his chest and he toed at the floor with one boot, chewing at his lip before he offered up quietly, "World I'm from... It was a lot like this one 'til about two years ago. The World That Was. Back Before. Most of the population's dead now and what's not is left to deal with 'em as best they can."

[driftsintobuffetline]

Newt took a deep breath, held back a slew of unending questions and requests for details, and instead offered, "Sounds like ours. Sort of. Kind of. Mako's young enough that she probably doesn't remember a lot of life Before, beyond her family life, but you've probably heard her talk about the Kaiju. Or seen them in the Drift. It's weird, really, to think one day a Kaiju hit San Fran and everything, our perception just...changed."

And now came the questions.

"What is this 'them' that your world was left to deal with? Monsters? Aliens? The Judgement? Is that why you carry the bow?"

[dirtyredneck]

He'd seen them in the Drift. Seen them over and over as Mako's thoughts often fell back to them. To what had happened with her parents and with her second father. And everyone and everything in between. Her need to destroy them, to end the threat, to get revenge, had driven her for so long. He'd seen it. He'd understood it.

"Nah, nothin' like that. Like the Kaiju," he shook his head, realizing his words hadn't come out quite as clear as he'd thought. "It's what I said. Those of us that's left, we gotta deal with 'em. The dead."

[driftsintobuffetline]

"Like...walking corpses? Night of the Living Dead kind of shit or like, ghosts?" Manolo turned into a skeleton, but he was more of a benign undead being, like something kind of Tim Burton but cuter. Newt was pretty sure that wasn't what Daryl meant at all, because you didn't fear--well, you didn't REALLY fear--the denizens of Halloweentown.

He eyed the crossbow again and then Daryl, and a connection snapped into place. Half the world's people were dead, and the Dead were now the enemy. (It didn't occur to Newt yet that the Dead were the Recently Deceased and not some anonymous horde of long-since rotting corpses like arisen mummies. And that the recently deceased were family and friends.)

"You mean zombies, right?" He opened his mouth to get excited, eyes bright, interested in what kind of science might justify their existence, if any of the ridiculous psuedo-science and whatnot had been correct and what about the bite caused the condition to spread. Was it a virus? Bacteria? What were the symptoms of having contracted the pathogen...before you ended up a walking, rotting corpse? Did they eat brains or the whole person? What was done to eradicate them?

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Powers were funny things. They liked to be ironic, largely based on personality, interests, and the world you came from. "You don't turn into one, do you?"

[dirtyredneck]

"Walkers." The correction was immediate and harsh. Came out as soon as Newt said that stupid word everyone kept using. The one they used for movies that made light of the kind of lives he and his lived. And he would have gone into a short tirade about it had the other man not gone and asked that.

Daryl hadn't expected the question. No one else had asked it. And it wasn't asked like he meant 'if you die, do you turn into one', either. It was asked like he thought Daryl could turn into one at any second. Maybe at will.

He froze like a deer in headlights, staring at Newt. Both panic and horror written into his face before he could pull on a mask of anger. But when it came, he snarled and snapped out his refute, "I ain't dead! I ain't them!"

[driftsintobuffetline]

Walkers. It was both comical and ominous in name. Momentarily, he pictured the walkers old people used, before the reality of the idea set in. The undead were mobile, obviously, but it implied some kind of ambulatory motion that was more than just dragging a rotting corpse around and moaning at locked doors. It implied action, active movement, which was perhaps the next scariest thing after thought.

God, they better not think, too.

"Look," Newt jabbed a finger at him, unable to avoid rising to anger in response, foolhardy as it probably was. "I ain't--" the word wasn't meant to mock Daryl's accent at all, but slipped in paralleling his argument before he corrected himself with, "I'm NOT a Kaiju, either--but I sure as hell turn into one, because this place has a SICK sense of humor, so DON'T DON'T treat it like it's an impossibility just because you're not ACTUALLY dead! It was a VALID question!"

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's eyes darted down to that pointed finger and he looked, for a moment, like he wanted to reach out and grab it. Bend it backwards and break it. But he set to his pacing again and used the motion to back away like he wasn't actually backing off. The stare he leveled at Newt remained angry, agitated.

"Ain't dead," he repeated in a low growl. "You only... it only makes you one of 'em if you die and no one takes out the brain. That's how it works."

Even here. Even if the fucking porter did make him crave flesh the way a walker did, made it so everything else was less appealing to eat, and freshly spilled blood was like having the dinner bell rung, he wasn't one of them. And he wasn't going to be one unless he died.