thisavrou | ➶ ][ voice

Whether related or not, it's certainly not great news. Carol goes still for a moment, just a beat, before calmly moving her ladle to a funneled jar. No good comes of panicking -- or of getting angry, which she's trying not to do.

"Just normal dead, at least." Because no way he'd have said it like that if it weren't the case. "People from the ship, or...?"

That's the standard they've got: corpses that stay dead, they're barely worth worrying about.

"Don't think so." If they had been, he thinks, they'd have heard sooner-- heard more detail, probably. Names. There's enough of a sense of community for that, right?

"Just heard it was a couple, pinned together."

Community... sure. She's not quite as bitter as that sounds, she's honestly glad people can manage that sort of thing. She just wants to be left out of it. And, in fairness, she is relieved it's not someone from the Moira.

That description, though... Carol turns toward him with a look of shocked disgust, before sighing. "But the heart wasn't human, right?" Not to say the couple was either, necessarily, but still worth noting the distinction.

"On the step? Nah."

That much he's sure of; what it was is another question, and it's definitely, unpleasantly possible that it was something more sentient than he wants to consider, though his gut instinct is still that it was some kind of common offal. Space cows, or whatever.

"Mostly people thought it's some kinda gift."

She huffs a disillusioned half-laugh, half-scoff. Gift, huh? She's heard weirder things, but this doesn't sit right. She's mostly wondering what sort of people think a disembodied heart randomly sitting in a pool of blood on the doorstep is gift-like.

"I guess a bunch of people that have been to planets that turn people into other things as some sort of holiday tradition are going to be a little jaded about what constitutes a gift." She's referring, of course, to Daryl's thankfully reversed change into a werewolf of some sort. Where's the gift in that? Suddenly, she's feeling quite at home with her decision not to interact with these people more than necessary.

From everything he's heard, the mess with that transformative blessing really wasn't so terrible. Maybe it's easier (if weirder) having been the one to have been changed; aside from getting lost in the maze-like streets of the colony, it hadn't been such a bad experience. Not one he wants to repeat, mind, but he'd found it less jarring than half of what had happened in Teleios.

Considering it, he shifts in place, glances out the window.

"I mean, it could've been."

It did have a friendly (if barely-intelligible) note, after all. It's just that if there's any doubt at all, it's an unacceptable risk to assume the best.

"Got told off for not hangin' onto it."

Maybe if she'd been through it, it wouldn't have been so hard to understand why it wasn't the worst thing to ever happen. Or, maybe if she hadn't seen what Peter did to that cell under the Teleios Temple all those years ago, heard him describe what it's like to lose himself... the great irony is that she was far less bothered when he got turned into a women for that week or so than she was with the wolf, and he's the opposite. It's not something they discussed enough for her to know what he got out of the experience -- how would one have that conversation, anyway?

At that comment, she lifts an eyebrow. "Someone thought you were a jerk for not feeling comfortable with a heart from God-knows-what being left on the porch? What's a full corpse to them, the best Christmas ever?" Yeah, not much chance she'll come around to that viewpoint.

Even easy conversations don't come all that easily to them; chatting about the lingering aftereffects of irrational magic transformations, hell, that's just not in the cards. They get along fine without talking about most things.

They get along fine, mostly, not talking about the important things, too, but it means now and then they're a little out of sync.

The question gets a snort of laughter.

"Just some asshole." Trying to be funny, maybe, or-- more likely-- just trying to be an asshole, and succeeding. "Said someone'd wanna eat it."

"Keep him away from the horses," she says, her tone arch, finding that seeing him laugh a bit does wonders for her mood, even if they are discussing something vile. Honestly, they've been desperate enough to consider eating random organ meat, but that had been pretty damn desperate. Anyone who wants to do it voluntarily isn't someone they should get to know very well, probably.

In either case, that's enough of that topic, thank you.

"I can't believe I'm saying this after that, but if you want something normal to eat I finally got enough fruit to make a cobbler." She nods over to the counter, where it's still cooling. "I can whip some cream if you want, only takes a second."

So, it's a weird segue, so what? He deserves something nice after dealing with sickos.

Hey, hearts are a delicacy, some places. Probably. The weird chocolate-covered lizard ones weren't bad, not that he really wants to call attention to that. They've eaten weirder and worse, and honestly he wouldn't have been the least bit fazed except the damn thing was sitting out in the heat and the dirt.

They're doing well, here. They don't need to live off that. If it makes them spoiled to think way, he can live with that.

He huffs, soft, still an edge of a laugh. Weird segue or not...

"If you wanna." It takes more than gruesome door prizes to ruin his appetite.

Of course she wants to; taking care of him is a joy she still finds surprising, in that they're able to live like this at all. Besides, if he needed a mood lift her food oughta do it -- not that he seems to, and not that she put anything special into the cobbler. Mostly the preserved foods get the most magic touch.

She grabs a bowl from the freezer (because yeah, she was hoping he'd say yes) and grabs some milk that's still fresh enough to separate. "Regular mojo, or are you planning to need a lot of energy later on?" she asks with a distinctly playful glance his way. Of course she's neither entirely serious nor entirely joking.

It doesn't surprise him that she barely breaks stride, that she was ready to go on that. Letting her do this kind of thing feels extravagant; he'd protest on those grounds except she so clearly enjoys it.

"Stop," he mutters, though his tone days anything but that. Still. He edges a little nearer to look at her spread of preserves.

"How long you been at this?"

It wears her out, he knows.

Their familiar little exchanges are a great joy, truly. She gives him a playful elbow nudge as she moves around, gathering a few other things to toss in the bowl. This only feels extravagant because they lived like animals for so long -- to Carol, anyway. Daryl maybe never had someone take care of him like this, but in her mind that's all the more incentive.

"A few hours," she says, shrugging. "I'm more used to it now." Which is to say, she's in the habit of munching on whatever she's making as she goes so the fallout isn't so bad. She's self-sacrificing and all but not dumb enough to incapacitate herself when there's no reason. And that's what's partially behind her stocking up as well, so that they can have the benefit of her power without needing to waste any energy in an emergency.

(She will, of course, be tired when she's done anyway. No dramatic passing out, just a few moments of vertigo, she estimates. Like hell she'll admit it, though, and he probably knows it anyway.)

After everything, his sense of normality is pretty well shot. He can't imagine this ever not seeming extravagant, even here. At home it'd be pure fantasy-- even Alexandria, the closest thing to civilization they've found, it's not like this.

He hums, managing not to sound disapproving. Not that it's any secret he worries-- he'd feel a hell of a lot better if she seemed more at ease here, if she didn't spend so much of her energy using that peculiar ability-- but she knows what she's doing. They're doing all right. It's not gonna keep him from worrying, though.

"Don't wear yourself out," he says mildly, with an amused glance that hopefully says more than the words do, teasing her right back.

"You think I'm making this just for cobbler?" she shoots back, not about to let him get the last tease in, then grabbing a whisk and setting to work. She really should invest in a mixer, but it seems like such a waste of money that could be spent on things like bullets. "Make yourself useful and grab some plates."

If a little more than a standard mood lift results from this whipped cream, he'll have no one to blame but himself. Between this and the cobbler and his good-natured teasing, it's more than enough to counteract any momentary exhaustion she may suffer.

One of these days she'll succeed in making him blush. That one comes pretty near, certainly enough that he hasn't got an answer for it, so he takes the suggestion to go find plates, silverware. Like civilized people. Sometimes it feels like playing pretend; right now it's... nice. Homey,except in an abstract way rather than a familiar one.

Never in his life, before or after the world fell apart, could he hsve imagined living like this.

Setting it all on the counter he pauses again to watch her.

"Guy down the road said he'd trade us for apples, if we got anything good."

It's too early to have a bumper crop of anything. Thinking ahead doesn't come naturally but he's making the effort.

Getting Daryl to blush just might be a goal of hers, in fact. It's not something she decided on, exactly, but when he started teasing in kind instead of begging off, of course she has to test the boundaries a little. Not enough to push it when Daryl moves off to gather things.

She's just finishing up when she hears that offer, and glances over, interested. Apples are great for canning, and she wants to have a stock of applesauce around in case Judith ever gets here. "Yeah? What's he after? The green beans and squash should have a new harvest ready in a few days, or there's cucumbers left over."

Carol puts down the bowl of whipped cream right in front of Daryl -- not so much teasing anymore as offering it, she's no longer the type that swats at people who taste from the bowl -- and starts serving out cobbler.

She's offering, he's biding his time. It's more fun when you steal it, after all. And yeah, he knows he's not actually out of sight when she turns a bit to the side and he reaches to swipe some, but it's the principle of the thing.

"Just somethin' different, I think. He's got an orchard, don't know much about farming."

Good deal all around.

"Sounds good. Think he'll do an even exchange, pound for pound?" Seems like the easiest way to go about it. "He can have any of those, or a combination." Normally she'd offer to precook and preserve certain things to sweeten the deal, but she's not wasting her energy on some stranger, and not interested in spreading that detail around. "If he wants eggplant or melons I think it's going to be a while."

She glances at Daryl, he might know better whether she's right, but she's pretty sure the bigger fruits take a bit to get that big, and they've only got flowers still.

Shrugging a bit, he nods. "I'll ask."

To his mind it's more than some stranger-- a neighbor, tentatively a friend-- but he's not gonna argue that point. Maybe she can recommend some recipes. He's not too worried, really.

"Not sharin' this, though," he adds, amused, nodding at the plates.

Best that he not argue, there's no way that would go well. He tried to get her out of her isolation once, gently, in Teleios, and probably they're both far from eager to repeat that experience. Possibly she takes loss even harder than Daryl does, which is saying a lot, it just doesn't seem like it because she keeps everything in while he does the opposite. His way is probably healthier.

"No? That's a shame," she says, reaching in to gather a glob of whipped cream on her finger and then plopping it on his nose, with a winning smile. Your move, sir.

(Well, you know you're in trouble when Daryl Dixon's got a healthier grasp on his emotions.)

With a low, totally affected grumble he just scrunches his face a bit to lick it off his nose as best he can. It's an utterly stupid-looking gesture and he's not the least bit self-conscious about it.

(In trouble is relative. She thinks she's quite happy as she is, thanks, and with no pressing need to think otherwise, it'll work for now. Question is how long she can keep it up.)

Laughing triumphantly, she picks up a clean rag and takes pity by planting it, gently, dead center of his face. "You want coffee with it? It's hot enough." She was just drinking some not long ago, still not over the idea of being able to get hooked on caffeine if she wants. So unless he wants to start a food fight -- or continue one, in this case -- she'll agree to behave for now. Long enough to eat, at least. She has an unhealthy love of cobbler.

As much fun as it might be to keep mock-squabbling, he's not going to waste the pleasure of fresh whipped cream and hot cobbler. Daryl's disinclined to turn down food, well-- ever, basically. And this is the particularly nice sort.

"'Course."

(Well, he never turns down coffee, either.)

Telling her not to fuss over that isn't going to do much good either, so he just drags a chair over, content to take the moment for what it is, enjoy the luxury of having it.

Definitely wouldn't do a bit of good. Frankly it's a bit of a ploy on her part, since she knows a crash is coming and it'll be easier to handle with caffeine. As he pulls up a chair and digs in, she heads to the coffee machine and quickly pours out two mugs, then pauses for a moment, facing away from Daryl so he won't see her bracing herself on the counter. (He can probably tell, but she's trying.)

In a flash she grabs one of the mugs and downs it, then pauses again while the dizziness passes before refilling the now-empty mug and preparing both their coffee how they like it (she hardly even thinks about making it anymore, it was routine in Teleios and quickly became so here again). Then she makes her way over with the cups, a little slower and a little glassy-eyed, but eating will fix that.

➶ ][ voice

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject