Daryl has been fighting his whole life. Usually, it's against men bigger and stronger than him. Merle sure had the weight advantage. His father- no, he doesn't want to think about that. But the fact of the matter is, this is an odd, new experience for him, and he only pieces it after he's landed a few blows. Slowly, he realizes Byerly is using his own strength against him. It's like quicksand. The more you struggle, the more you sink.
So he tries to go still, trying further to ignore the shame that knits in the back of his mind at lying prone under this snake of a man. This is a shameful state of affairs. It hurts Daryl's pride in a very real way, and he'll remember it for a long time. But for now? He pants into the snow, staring daggers up at this so-called Vor.
"I ain't gonna kill you," he says, "'N you ain't gonna kill me. So get it over with."
He'll strike back when he can, intending to take a page from Byerly's book, and live in the counter-strike. He won't kneel, he won't beg, but he isn't above pretending to be beat.
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So he tries to go still, trying further to ignore the shame that knits in the back of his mind at lying prone under this snake of a man. This is a shameful state of affairs. It hurts Daryl's pride in a very real way, and he'll remember it for a long time. But for now? He pants into the snow, staring daggers up at this so-called Vor.
"I ain't gonna kill you," he says, "'N you ain't gonna kill me. So get it over with."
He'll strike back when he can, intending to take a page from Byerly's book, and live in the counter-strike. He won't kneel, he won't beg, but he isn't above pretending to be beat.