Maryanne Elizabeth Walker (![]() ![]() @ 2012-05-18 00:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !plot, {daryl dixon, {maryanne walker |
Characters: Maryanne and Daryl
When: Day three of dinoland/no powers. Late afternoon early evening.
Location: 101-A
Warnings/Rating: Daryl has a mouth, Maryanne isn't a saint.
Summary: A little girl can bring on strong emotions. So can being without.
Status: Closed, Plot!, Ongoing
Stripped down, that was the best way to put it, Maryanne felt stripped to the core. Bare, and left raw. It wasn't like being without her mutation hurt, it didn't, besides the lack of grace and managing to bump and run into nearly everything she came across. That part hurt. It was like taking away her senses had removed her sense of balance. Or maybe it was the 'kitty' that made her feel more graceful. More in tune with her surroundings. She'd forgot what it was like to be so... Normal. The sense of being vulnerable that came with such loss was something she hated. That part was the part she could deal without. It was almost as if she had no way to defend herself. While she knew Cato, and Daryl, and a few others would probably come to the rescue. The people that didn't lose their sense of self. She wasn't lying when she told Lucifer that she didn't like playing the victim card. She didn't like playing the damsel in need of rescue. But Maryanne had always been a smart girl. She had always had a strong sense of self preservation. And when she couldn't defend herself properly, she wasn't about to take needless risks. When she couldn't sense the danger that was lurking in the train, if it snuck up on her, she'd be damned if she was going to leave the safety of her own room without backup. Not that she had the idea of throwing Cato under the bus when he offered to help her out. No she would have done what she could to get his back, if it came to that. Just because she couldn't sense the beast that plagued her, didn't mean she didn't have the fight of a hell cat. Thankfully she'd accomplished what she'd sought out to do. Figured out her new liquor tolerance sucked. She could handle three beers before she got buzzed. Four and she entered the land of silly. Unless she milked it. Like she was doing. Sitting up on top of the dresser, the window open, letting the swampy, slightly muggy, fresh air in. Two more longnecks sat in an open drawer at her hip. The creepy music from the Jurassic Park movies didn't help, normally she would have blocked it out with some of her own tunes. But she was paranoid. And didn't feel the risk was worth it, especially if one of the big lizards outside could take a little more interest in the train than was healthy. Maybe it was the music that made her feel that way. That knowledge didn't keep her from snagging one of Daryl's more recently worn button down shirts and tucking inside. He made her feel safe. And while she couldn't smell him, so much, in the room. She could on the shirt. And Maryanne found a good deal of comfort in that. It helped her appreciate the beauty of the land outside the window a little more. Sherlock was right, the Hulk was right. And she knew she was a goner. She had it bad. It was time to own up to it. Maybe. The mood had to be right, after all. |