bakerstreet | (no subject)

the dæmon meme

dæmon: the inner-self of a human physically manifested in the form of an animal called a 'dæmon'. the animal is the most intimate expression of the human's inner soul, the form of the animal directly representing that person's true personality.

they are, in effect, the other half of your soul, sharing your thoughts and knowing everything about you. and despite whether or not you want them, they are with you for life, your closest companion.

how do your character's interactions with others CHANGE now that a part of their soul is wandering around with them?

suggested ideas:

standard slice of life. you are going about your life, either in your canon, or in the world of the golden compass. hell, even make a modern au. the conflict here is up to you.
dæmons are generally the opposite gender of their human partner. however, yours shares your gender. what are the implications of this? how do people treat you in the street?
intercision. you have been cut away from your dæmon. you are a freak to the rest of society. you are empty, severed from part of your soul.
intimacy. you never touch another's dæmon-- unless, of course, you are in a sexual relationship with them. what's that first touch like?
settling. for younger characters: your dæmon has finally chosen their final, adult form. how does this make you feel? you're an adult now, how do your peers view you?

of course, you're free to do whatever you want with this universe, the only requirement is that your character have a dæmon!

further reading: here, if you can't pick a daemon for your character; here, for dæmon/personality matches and general info.

please, when you post, include your character's name, canon, and dæmon species!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The first Brian takes for truth, because that's how he is. The friendly air he takes for truth too. As they slide into the elevator his jaw tightens fractionally with the press of button, his pulse a little louder against his ears.

It's always like that when he thinks he'll be driving. Adrenaline is bitter under his tongue.

He focuses on the luminescent wings of Stepan until Natasha speaks up again. This time Sandy looks up at her as well.]

No kidding. Kinda thought I was the only one. [It's not bluster, or cow-towing. Brian's face is open and honest and he leans absently against the wall as the numbers tick slowly down toward one, and then B. The doors ding softly.]

Not that they bore me, but I'm bad at them. D'rather be out. Doing something.

[The doors slip open with a hiss.]

Me too.

[ It's the last look she throws at him over her shoulder. A smile, honest but small, framed by the red of her hair, before a yellow and black blur settles behind her ear. The garage is underground, has a winding kind of ramp up into the streets that make it seem like it's a private carpark for an apartment building.

There's a myriad of cars parked around; some of them vintage, some of them personal, others the generic black SHIELD cars with tinted windows. She wanders through the rows for a moment, heels clicking against concrete, before she tips her chin, gesturing. ]

That one yours?

[He likes her smile, the way she puts her chin into it. It's probably stupid but there's a satisfaction in making people give away something honest. He returns it, just a curve of lips, before Stepan has her attention again and her heels are taking Natasha away from him.

Brian jogs a few steps to catch up; Sandy takes her time. Unlike a normal dog she doesn't sniff here or there and the way her brown eyes tilt to things has more intention than curiosity. Like all daemons, their intelligence sets them apart.]

Yeah, that one.

[It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out, honestly. It's the loudest car in the garage, a beautiful pearlescent blue with navy trim. Skyline, 2009. Double exhaust and chrome rims-- and that's just the outside. He's put a lot of time into her.

Brian digs his keys out of his pocket.]

[ For a moment it looks like she might throw up her hand, wordlessly ask him to throw over the keys. But instead she just— pauses, then opens the passenger door, rests her arms over the roof of the car. ]

Take me for a drive.

[ A beat, then her eyes seem to shine again, lamplike. ]

And I'll show you how well I can hit a moving target.

[ Which isn't a punishment, exactly, considering his loss. But it is a form of you've shown me yours, I'll show you mine — harmless fun, if Natasha could ever run parallel with the word harmless. And still, there she is, brow arched at him. ]