bakerstreet | The Daemon Meme

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[meme] characterization

The Daemon Meme

Daemon Meme

Welcome to the world of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series, a world in which humans are constantly accompanied by dæmons: the beloved animal embodiments of their inner-selves. Dæmons shift their shapes frequently when people are young but begin to settle into one, fixed, animal form as children reach puberty.

A Few Basic Dæmon Facts:

- They take the shape of animals
- They can talk, no matter what their shape
- Neither the person or the dæmon chooses the final settled form, but it always reflects their personality (although not necessarily in obvious or simple ways)
- They are almost always the opposite sex as their human
- If a dæmon feels pain, so will their person, and vice versa
- Being physically apart from one's dæmon causes horrible emotional and physical pain
- Dæmons frequently talk to and touch each other, in ways that reflect or complement their persons' interactions, but dæmons talking to humans other than their own is considered strange, and touching humans not their own is extremely taboo; it generally occurs only between long-time lovers. Touching someone else's dæmon without permission is a terrible violation.

How The Meme Works:

Just design a dæmon for your muse and put as little or as much information as you like about them (shape, name, link to a picture or species wiki if you are so inclined) in a comment, with your muses's name and series in the subject. Check out other people's dæmons and let your dæmons interact.

[Daemon meme base taken from here. Basically, I just really love this meme and wanted to see it again.]

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The TARDIS was enjoying relaxing in the shade of a tree in Hyde Park. It had been a while since he'd been there, and Nebulae seemed equally delighted for the stop, flitting around his head in erratic circles, lighting now and again on his hair.

There's someone else in Hyde Park, sitting a little ways away with a sketchbook on his lap. Victor Van Dort is busily scratching away with a quill pen, pausing every so often to look up or to dip his nib in the inkwell sitting beside him. Sitting on his shoulder is Lucinda, on one of her rare occasions out and about. Normally she likes to hide away in his pocket, far away from strangers and -- dangerous people. But today she's been lured into the open by the sunshine.

Victor himself has taken note of Nebulae. Quite the butterfly lover, he can't resist the urge to capture the daemon in ink. It's been ages since he's seen any sort of butterfly around London. . .

((Victor's a crossover between Corpse Bride and "Alice: Madness Returns"))

Nebulae was big for a morpho, not comically oversized, but definitely bigger than average. And there were times when it seemed that she was deliberately modeling, sitting on an orange tulip and fanning her wings slowly, or hovering against an updraft, wings beating frantically for a few moments before relaxing into a slow spiraling drift back towards the ground.

It was something that made Thomas, as he called himself, laugh, because she usually did it to get his attention, and he couldn't quite tell yet who she was doing it for now.

It's her size that makes Victor suspect that she's no ordinary butterfly -- that and the fact she never seems to stray very far from this one man. . . And the fact that she really does appear to be posing for him. He bites back a laugh as he continues sketching. Well, she deserves to pose -- she's beautiful.

After a little more scratching with his pen, he glances up again and makes eye contact with the man. After a moment, he lifts his hand in a shy silent greeting. Lucinda nervously flicks her tail and cuddles up a little closer to Victor's neck. They tend to get a little anxious around strangers.

Thomas had to tilt his head almost completely upside down to see Victor from his angle, but he grinned at the half-wave, returning it enthusiastically, "Hullo!"

He hadn't actually been expecting to meet anyone there today, but it seemed like as good a time as any to do so. It was a nice day for it.

Victor manages a smile back, resisting the urge to fiddle with his tie. "Hello," he replies. "How are you?" Whoever this is, he seems friendly enough.

Lucinda scurries over to Victor's opposite shoulder, where she plays with her tail. If there's going to be any conversation on the daemon end, Nebulae is definitely going to have to start it.

He swung himself around upright, sitting crosslegged, facing the other man instead of staying sprawled out on the grass, it was easier to carry on a conversation this way, "Well enough, nice day for it, fresh air, and I get to be out in it. What about you?"

Nebulae wasn't much of a talker, but she did dive-bomb the other daemon, if something that drifted and floated like she did could ever be considered to dive-bomb anything.

That gets a more genuine smile. "Much the same -- it's been ages since I've really been able to come somewhere like this," he says, looking around at the grass. Actual fresh, green grass! Nothing like back in Whitechapel.

Lucinda squeaks and scurries away from the "dive-bombing," hiding against Victor's neck again. Victor shushes her, gently petting her with a finger. "Hey, it's all right. . ." Have an apologetic look, Nebulae.

Honestly, the last time Thomas had been to Whitechapel it had been all flooded, incredibly flooded, actually, flooding of Biblical proportions.
But that was a good twenty or thirty years from now, and in a different timeline.

For now he just grinned, nodding, "Aye, we don't get out as much as we ought. Terrible shame, really, fresh air's good for everyone."

Nebulae settled on the back of the bench, wings spreading, just sunning herself.

Victor wouldn't say he'd mind Whitechapel being flooded. He hates the neighborhood. But he deals with it, as he doesn't really have anyplace else to go at the moment.

"Yes -- though there's precious little of it to be found in London," Victor adds, looking grumpy. "Don't know what I would do if I couldn't sometimes come here."

Lucinda peeks out from behind her tail, then moves a little closer to Nebulae. You are a pretty butterfly. . .

"Bit of the great outdoors, even a tamed, groomed bit of it, keeps everyone on an even keel." Thomas replied, nodding. He'd always enjoyed being outside, even when he'd been a box, really. Just one of those things.

Nebulae continued fanning her wings slowly, as if to prove that she wasn't a threat.

"I suppose -- all I know is that it helps me relax," Victor says with a little shrug. And he could use a lot of relaxation these days. "Oh, do forgive me, I should have introduced myself -- Victor Van Dort."

Lucinda creeps forward a little more, then sits down and grooms her tail a bit. She is feeling rather more at ease, but she's still a little shy about saying hello.

"I'm Thomas." He replied cheerfully, smile tilting again, "And obviously I've forgotten about the introductions as well, so at least we're both in good company." There was a clear amusement in the tone, as if he might start laughing about it at any moment.

Nebulae turned around so that she was at least facing the other daemon, and while she couldn't blink, or cock her head quizzically, she somehow managed to give the impression of such.

"Just Thomas?" Victor blurts, then bites his lip. "Er -- excuse me, it's none of my business." He'll be looking at his sketchbook now, a bit embarrassed. Why do his first impressions always involve a bit of awkwardness?

Lucinda imitates Victor in giving Nebulae a shy little wave of her paw. She can talk -- she just doesn't know if it would be rude, seeing as Nebulae's so quiet.

"Just Thomas." He replied with a nod, smiling again and giving a shrug, "Haven't had any need for a name besides that." Mostly because he had no idea what he'd use as a surname anyway.

Nebulae waved back with both of her upper legs, finally giving a quiet: "Hullo."

"I see." Well, he doesn't, not quite, but like he said, it's not any of his business. If this fellow gets along well enough with just a first name, who is he to judge? "Have you been in the city long?"

Ah, conversation! "Hello," Lucinda replies, playing with her tail again. "How are you?"

He shook his head at the question, "No, not this trip, anyway, just visiting." Though he certainly sounded like a native. Probably best not to question that, all in all, "Probably won't be staying long either, sorry to say, we tend to travel fairly frequently."

Nebulae bobbed, shifting the angle of her wings so that the breeze didn't shake her loose from her perch, "Well, and you?"

"Oh? That sounds interesting," Victor says, smiling. "Where do you go, if you don't mind me asking? I'm not m-much of a traveler myself--" Unless you count the underworld "-- but sometimes I've wondered about what it might be like to visit a new country."

"All right," Lucinda says, with a mousey smile. "S-sorry for before -- I'm easily startled."

"Oh all over," Thomas said with a shrug, leaning back on his hands, "Wherever the wind takes us, as it were." Wind and the eddies in the time stream, whichever, but that wasn't exactly the kind of thing he could admit to right away.

Nebulae gave the impression of a shrug again, almost-but-not-quite wringing her forelegs, "Quite alright, ought to apologize myself, not often that I get to startle anyone."

Victor grins -- he can't but think Thomas has a very appropriate daemon then. "It sounds like a lot of fun. I wouldn't mind doing a bit of traveling myself."

"Yes, well, I'm more easily startled than most -- especially these days," Lucinda admits, her tail flicking. "Bad business a little while back."

"We always have, never stay in one place for long." They had, once, he remembered that, if only barely, because of how badly bored he'd been just waiting. And then the Doctor had come along, and he'd rescued them just as easily as he'd stolen them, and that had been that.

He tilted his head, "Where is it you think you'll go, when you have the chance?"

Nebulae tutted softly, "Terrible shame, that."

"I don't know -- anywhere that isn't Whitechapel," Victor says, shaking his head. "That's where I live at the moment, and. . ." And not only is it a shithole, it also has a lot of bad memories. And lack of memories. He grimaces. "Just -- somewhere with blue skies and green grass and air that you can actually breathe."

Lucinda nods. "We almost got separated," she says with a shudder, nodding back at Victor. Oh, that was a terrifying time, being torn away from her other half as Bumby -- well. It's not worth thinking about.

Thomas smiled, broad and brilliant, "Sounds like you need to fly south for the winter, so to speak. Spain's lovely this time of year." Or any time of year, really, "And any of the South Sea Isles are temperate year round, aside from monsoon season."

Nebulae didn't have the capacity to gasp nor to clap her hands over her mouth, but she did a fairly good imitation of it, wings standing out rigid for a moment, forelegs folded over her face.

"I'm sure it is -- the trouble is, I don't have the money to travel anywhere," Victor sighs. "I've been trying to find work, build up an income, but. . . I don't really have skills that are in high demand in Whitechapel." Not too much call for artists here -- and he doesn't like playing piano in front of crowds, so that's out.

Lucinda fidgets. "It was -- a very bad time. I'm quite glad we both made it out in one piece." She hides her eyes behind her tail. "I'm sorry, that was probably t-too much at once."

He forgot sometimes, in fact, quite often, that not everyone had the ability to just flit off whenever they wanted to wherever they wanted to go. But he nodded at that, brow creasing just slightly as he mulled it over, "Have you ever thought of changing professions?"

The butterfly took wing again, circling Victor's head just once with her usual erratic flight path, butting lightly against Lucinda before settling on the back of the bench once more, "Quite alright."

Tardis (Dr. Who) - OTA

I saw his daemon and thought "Well Victor HAS to say hello"

More people ought to say hello to him! He's a friendly sort!

Friendly sorts are the best sorts!

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