He fucking hates Haddonfield, so coming here when there ain't even a trial on feels like shooting yourself in the foot. But Zarina says she can teach him some shit worth learning, and Daryl-- despite appearances-- is always eager to learn practical knowledge. He's not much of a reader, can't sing, can't remake the world into a better place full of hope and promise, but he can sustain it. Anything that keeps life trudging forward a little longer is good. Lock-picking, sure. He'd love to learn about lock picking.
So he finds a locked door in this suburban mist, this place that reminds him painfully of Alexandria, and he waits. In the sitting, he nearly falls asleep, eyes half-closed. If a trial starts, he thinks, it'll be over quick. That masked bastard can get him right between the eyes. Take him down like a walker; it's how he'd like to go.
But that doesn't happen. He wakes up on the porch to the sound of padded footsteps; Zarina, usually so sharply dressed, is in some kind of costume. It looks like a penguin.
"You look ridiculous." But the corner of his mouth twitches up, not quite a smile.
When Daryl calls her ridiculous, all Zarina does is raise her brows and reveal an amused smile.
"What, has the Entity never made you wear something silly for a trial? Can’t resist these adorable slippers to wear for running."
There’s a shrug of her shoulders as she continues smiling, walking over towards the hunter with her usual satchel tagging along. To wear a cute penguin onesie in a world full of bloodshed and unapologetic sadism is strange, but as much as she obtains clothes from back home and some that aren’t even hers — something Greek and gold, something that tears her eye out — the entity decides in the end. Some can be changed, but others stay for long periods of time, whether she likes them or not.
Like "Karina’s" soft, bright blonde mane — a contrast to her usual brown waves — which is revealed as she pushes the hood of her onesie off. At least it keeps her warm with the cold weather of Illinois and the fog, like it does back home.
"Maybe one day you’ll wake up in one too. Elodie did." teeth show as she lets out a chuckle, and her hands raise up into her hair and easily pulls out two black bobby pins. "How did you guys break into places quietly back home?"
With that said, she also opens up one of the smaller, outer portions of her satchel and pulls out a small black case.
"Don't mean I'd wear it," Daryl says, and if that sounds like dodging the question, it is.
He gets up, sticks his hands in his pockets, and stands just out of the way enough to let her work and watch it too. When she asks, his head turns almost birdlike; he never expects people to ask him about his life, like anything interesting or meaningful happened in it.
"Before," he says with a shrug, "before, I didn't get into B&E's. That was my brother's gig." And it was always smash and grabs; finesse was for pussies and democrats (as he'd say). "After, I'd just hit a window. Make enough noise to get the walkers comin'."
It occurs to him belatedly-- has he ever told her about the place he comes from? Well, if not, she's about to learn; he's said too much weird shit to just keep flying under the radar.
A hum leaves her throat as she thinks about Daryl in a onesie — a picture perfect moment by the bonfire — and if he would one day end up wearing one in a trial because of the entity’s twists and turns behind the curtains. There's no way to predict their eldritch captor’s desires beyond what she learns through whispers of information she trades for or quietly listens to conversations that she shouldn’t be picking up. Not even intellectual guesses can be relied upon when it comes to it… only everyone else in the fog.
Doesn’t stop her from trying to figure out the world they currently live in and will eventually escape. There’s still hope in her heart that she’ll see her mother again.
"Walkers? Ah, wait —" Zarina asks as she turns to look towards him, showing the way she bends the bobby pins enough to create handles and hinges. "You bend it like this so you can insert it into the keyhole when you don’t have the tools. It might take longer than other ways, like breaking the door knob, but it’s quieter. No one will know unless they have a set alarm system inside."
Not everything she does is perfect without experience and preparation, and she’s always learned to be prepared to not get caught like before. She can’t afford to get caught, lest she lose everything she's gathered for her work.
"When we’re done here, can you tell me more about them?"
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no subject
So he finds a locked door in this suburban mist, this place that reminds him painfully of Alexandria, and he waits. In the sitting, he nearly falls asleep, eyes half-closed. If a trial starts, he thinks, it'll be over quick. That masked bastard can get him right between the eyes. Take him down like a walker; it's how he'd like to go.
But that doesn't happen. He wakes up on the porch to the sound of padded footsteps; Zarina, usually so sharply dressed, is in some kind of costume. It looks like a penguin.
"You look ridiculous." But the corner of his mouth twitches up, not quite a smile.
no subject
"What, has the Entity never made you wear something silly for a trial? Can’t resist these adorable slippers to wear for running."
There’s a shrug of her shoulders as she continues smiling, walking over towards the hunter with her usual satchel tagging along. To wear a cute penguin onesie in a world full of bloodshed and unapologetic sadism is strange, but as much as she obtains clothes from back home and some that aren’t even hers — something Greek and gold, something that tears her eye out — the entity decides in the end. Some can be changed, but others stay for long periods of time, whether she likes them or not.
Like "Karina’s" soft, bright blonde mane — a contrast to her usual brown waves — which is revealed as she pushes the hood of her onesie off. At least it keeps her warm with the cold weather of Illinois and the fog, like it does back home.
"Maybe one day you’ll wake up in one too. Elodie did." teeth show as she lets out a chuckle, and her hands raise up into her hair and easily pulls out two black bobby pins. "How did you guys break into places quietly back home?"
With that said, she also opens up one of the smaller, outer portions of her satchel and pulls out a small black case.
no subject
He gets up, sticks his hands in his pockets, and stands just out of the way enough to let her work and watch it too. When she asks, his head turns almost birdlike; he never expects people to ask him about his life, like anything interesting or meaningful happened in it.
"Before," he says with a shrug, "before, I didn't get into B&E's. That was my brother's gig." And it was always smash and grabs; finesse was for pussies and democrats (as he'd say). "After, I'd just hit a window. Make enough noise to get the walkers comin'."
It occurs to him belatedly-- has he ever told her about the place he comes from? Well, if not, she's about to learn; he's said too much weird shit to just keep flying under the radar.
no subject
Doesn’t stop her from trying to figure out the world they currently live in and will eventually escape. There’s still hope in her heart that she’ll see her mother again.
"Walkers? Ah, wait —" Zarina asks as she turns to look towards him, showing the way she bends the bobby pins enough to create handles and hinges. "You bend it like this so you can insert it into the keyhole when you don’t have the tools. It might take longer than other ways, like breaking the door knob, but it’s quieter. No one will know unless they have a set alarm system inside."
Not everything she does is perfect without experience and preparation, and she’s always learned to be prepared to not get caught like before. She can’t afford to get caught, lest she lose everything she's gathered for her work.
"When we’re done here, can you tell me more about them?"