Daisy Lag (Fiona Lepre)'s Questionnaire

I live in a cabin in a small suburb of Juneau called Back Loop. It's up north near the lake and the glacier. 

Of course there's plenty of skiing in the winter, but summers are nice too. Super green, lots of grass. I have a vegetable garden where I grow some of my food, and I can make a trip to the store for the rest of it. Heck there's even skiing in the summer if you're willing to head into the ice field. 

I grew up here, and I've always liked it. You know, the people here are a lot more private, give each other lots of room. I like that. I don't like crowds, nosy neighbors, or awkward conversations, and I feel like a lot of the people around here feel the same way.

I could see myself moving to another small town with skiing some day, but what roots I've got are set down here for now. 

I make a little money from things like small sponsorship deals, niche ad appearances, and the occasional competition win. You’d think being a world-class marksman would be more lucrative, but with all the travel, the entry fees, the hotels… it’s more of a modest living.

Besides, I don’t really do personal brand stuff. So that makes it hard to get rich. I’m just too damn shy. Can you believe some people actually like having everyone look at them? It’s giving me chills just thinking about it! No thanks. At least the ads I do are only seen by gun nerds and ski nerds. 

But that’s fine, I don’t mind. As long as I can afford my cabin, my guns, and my work, I’m pretty darn happy. Old jugs of water, bits of metal, and all other sorts of targets are cheap enough for me. Ammo is pricy, but hey, that’s a work expense. 

My goals are twofold. 

First, I believe the life of all sentient creatures has equal or near-equal value, regardless of shape or species. Anything as smart as a mouse or a cow has life worth valuing. They feel pain. They have relationships. They feel fear and hopelessness.

I cannot sit idly by while millions of creatures and enslaved, tortured, and harvested across the world. I will put an end to it. I will be the righteous avenger for those who cannot defend themselves.

Family pets are probably fine, depending on the animal. Factory farms, no way. I have been planning to make some big moves about it soon.

My other goal has to do with rabbits.

I don’t know why it is, or even how to say it, but I am a rabbit.

I don’t mean I’m a rabbit trapped in a human body, I think. Maybe it’s that my spirit was half bunny, who knows. All I know is when I look at a rabbit, I feel the same way I do when I see a sibling, or a close friend. And when I look at a mirror, I want to rip all that pale pink skin right off my body. 

But my ears. . . Now that they're long, they feel like MY ears. You see what I mean? I know I'm not making any sense, but I don't feel shy about showing them to people. 

However sketchy this weird opportunity with these jobs is, it’s a chance for me to finally figure out who, or what I really am, and to embody that and find peace.

Who wouldn’t risk everything for that?

I killed a guy when I was 10.

I was at a state fair with my family and got separated. A guy in the crowd found me, said he’d help me find my family, and brought me to his car.

When I realized we were driving away from the fair, I knew something was up. My parents were plenty paranoid, independent types, and they’d filled my head with all sorts of horror stories by that age.

That’s what saved my life.

I was already gun-trained at 10. Heck, I’d been to the shooting range plenty. I knew where my parents hid their gun in the car, and it turned out the guy driving the car, refusing to stop, refusing to take me back, hid his in the same place.

I wasn’t the crack shot I am now, but I was good enough. Aimed center mass. I didn’t mean to kill him, that’s just how it happened. 

It’s strange. I hear stories about people feeling intense regret after their first killing, even killing themselves because of the guilt. I never felt any guilt or remorse. I called my parents, told them everything, and got back home safe and sound. The police barely got involved.

I think something changed inside me that day. I think that’s the day I grew up and realized that violence is a legitimate answer. It’s sure as hell easier than waiting for fuckheads to see the light.

My brother, Kevin Walgrin. I'm not very close to him. He's just about the opposite of myself, actually. As soon he got old enough, he moved away to college, then manhattan. I think he's working in finance or some secretive startup. He hates nature and loves people, and is pretty much the opposite of how I turned out. He even kept the family name. We still get on okay, when we call each other for our birthdays.

My teacher, Sheet’ká. When I was young a showed an aptitude for shooting, my parents hired her to train my marksmanship skills. She is ancient and soft-spoken, but very alert and wise. She also introduced me to skiing and taught me some of the traditional ways of her tribe. I think I may be her only student. Every time I shoot, I hear her words in my head. 

There's two rabbits who I call Ziggy and Biscuit. Twelve years ago, a little after I killed that guy who tried to kidnap me, they showed up. I started to notice them peering at me from the edge of the yard, and eventually I introduced myself. We have some sort of connection, and when I talk to them, I swear they're listening. When I moved out of my parents' house, I added a doggie door for them, and now that they're older, they spend a lot of time inside. Wouldn't want them to get eaten by coyotes.

My childhood was fine. Stressful to the point of near panic attacks every day, but fine.

Most of that stress came from me, to be fair. If it wasn't angst over not being a bunny, it was my unquenchable competitive spirit. I always had to be the best at sports, and yeah, that wasn't easy when half the kids in the school had been shooting since they could hold a gun. 

Oh, that and my horrible social anxiety. Yeah, I almost dropped out because of that. Presentations in front of the class? impossible. Needless to say, I didn't fit in.

My parents are sweet. They're well-meaning people, just kinda simple. I came clean with them about the rabbit stuff once, and they didn't take me seriously. Go figure. When I pushed the issue they started to get all weird and concerned, so I dropped it.

They're still alive, living on the other side of the city. I don't see them much, and I haven't told them about my ears or shown them. I wonder what they'd think? My mom would probably have a heart attack, but. . . someday I'll feel brave enough to do it. 

People. Definitely people. Crowds? Forget about it. I just hate it. I can't follow where each of them are, where they're going, whether or not they're a threat or someone I need to help or what. And when everyone looks at me? I just get completely overwhelmed and just run away or shut down.

I'm afraid of myself too, when I get angry. When someone does me wrong, hurts me, mistreats me, or disrespects me, I just get this horrible burning ball of rage in my chest. It's like a demon in there, and a lot of the time I can't control it. 

It hasn't ruined my life yet, but I just know it will some day. it's a ticking time bomb. Hell, I almost killed Gustav recently when, in the process of saving my life, he mutated my face and gave me wiggly whiskers. Only reason I didn't was because the wriggly tendrils on my face didn't feel much worse than the human skin that was already there. 

And speaking of Gustav, I'm afraid of occult, demon-y people. Witches, wizards, uh, warlocks. All that stuff just makes my skin crawl. I don't get it. I won't ever get it. It's evil. Anyone who dabbles with that stuff shouldn't be trusted.

The main one that comes to mind is my new side-arm, The Carrot. It was the payment for my third job, and UPS delivered it. Came in a fancy box with instructions and everything. According to the note, it was custom made by some esteemed craftsman just for me. It's got an orange barrel laser-inscribed to look like a carrot, and green grips and a green hammer. 

This thing's the tits! It can turn into a rabbit's foot charm (which is kinda gross, but at least it's not real), which means I can take it anywhere. And that's not all. The thing can turn into a buncha other types of guns too. Carrot-shotgun! Carrot-sniper rifle! Carrot-pepperbox! It's got it all. Plus, it never runs out of bullets. Just keeps firing all day. 

The note said I might grow more "attuned" to it as time went on. I guess whoever made it put some sort of connection between me and the gun. Hard to say how, but I guess we'll see what that means later on. 

In any case, it's by far my favorite thing I own, and I'll keep it forever.

My biggest victory is also my biggest problem: I'm basically a bunny-person now. 

Yeah, this is what I wanted. Yes, I feel more like my true and genuine self than I ever have before in my life. I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. But now I have to face the problem of how my genuine self fits into the world. 

It was a lot easier to fit in when I wore the skin of a human, even if it felt like I was wearing a mask. Now what do I tell people? Do I lie and say I'm modded out with gen-wyld? Do I tell them the truth and say that I am, on a spiritual and physical level, a bunny person? I feel like I risk getting kidnapped and studied-- or at the very least ostracized if I do that. 

Am I going to be allowed to compete in the olympics again? Probably not. 

Living in Alaska, especially in a post-covid, post-ghoul fever world has really let me kick this can down the road.

These days I'm kinda nocturnal, so I usually wake up in the afternoon, when the sun would be low in the sky for most of the country. I go for a workout, usually either a jog or a short ski or hike/snowshoe depending on the season. Shower, use lots of shampoo and conditioner, dry myself off. I wish I could clean off my dirty arm, but no matter how hard I scrub in the shower, it just gets dirty. It's like every little mote of dust and hair grabs onto it and won't let go. 

I go grocery shopping before the stores close and put out food for the bunnies outside. 

Then I usually settle into the day's big task. These days that's either a ski trip or spending time in the workshop fiddling with some new invention. I've really been enjoying building things with my hands. Coffee too, oh yeah, plenty of coffee. It really puts a bounce in my step! 

If I wanted to look my best? Geez, I'm not too good at all that "pomp and circumstance" stuff. The last time I wore a dress was for that big reception ball at the Olympics, and that gown would probably look pretty silly stretched over my new tail now.

If I really wanted to look my best, I guess I'd wear something that showed off the new me. I'd shampoo and condition all my new body hair– err, I guess fur?– and make sure it was all smooth and shiny. For makeup I'd probably wear eye-liner and mascara, maybe some lipstick, but that's it. 

Clothes would be the biggest challenge. They don't really make dresses that would accommodate my tail, but maybe I could get something custom-made. Something that wouldn't show off too much of my lower back or butt, I guess. 

I feel like the thought of wearing a dress in front of so many people and having them see me for how I really am should terrify me, but really, it fills me with a pride and confidence I didn't know I had. 

Maybe it would be best to just be true to myself. I've got a nice blouse and slacks. You know, something professional yet functional. 

I celebrated my birthday alone for the past couple years. Sure my parents and brother send me cards, and sometimes we go out to dinner, but I never really did parties or anything like that. It's just too overwhelming. 

My birthday is coming up soon, actually. But I won't be getting any cards this year because my family thinks I'm dead. 

God, that sends a chill down my spine. I can't believe how much pain they must be in. I wish I could reach out, tell them that I'm still here, still okay, still thinking of them. I wish I could have a party now. I'm not as scared of people anymore. I wish earning this ability to be comfortable in my own skin hadn't cost me everyone who ever loved me. 

It's crazy, I only have one real regret. 

Do I regret killing that guy at the state fair all those years ago? Nope. That creep had it coming. 

Do I regret taking that crazy deal and going on all these insane missions? Absolutely not. They've let me discover and uncover my truest self, and I wouldn't trade that for anything in the whole world. 

The only real regret I have is not doing more to prevent cruelty and mistreatment of animals. Here I am on a pleasant little journey of self-discovery, finding my true self and feeling as warm and fuzzy on the inside as I now do on the outside, while MILLIONS of innocent animals are kept in cages, living lives in abhorrent conditions, and dying in hordes. I am the one with the guns.

I am the one who COULD actually make a difference. But am I? No. I'm not doing shit. 

Well all that's going to change.

That's how it was sold to me originally, "unlocking my potential." And I guess that's really what's happening. 

I couldn't say exactly how it's happening, but obviously I'm starting to become more and more rabbit-like the longer I go. If I had to make a guess, I guess I'd say my "spirit" is being uncovered. Like, the rabbit was trapped inside all along, but now it's merging with my human-side and growing into something remarkable. I mean, my abilities go far beyond what any normal rabbit could do. 

And then there's the tinkering and building things. I didn't ever have much of an interest in that kind of thing before I got the carrot. Now I'm building shape-changing guns? That kind of learning can't be normal, and it sure isn't related to my rabbit side either. Maybe there's something in my family history that would shed some light on it. I should go digging someday.

I don't think too much about religion. I was raised Christian, but after I moved out, I stopped going to church. It's all just too human-centric for me. It fits me about as well as a pair of extra-large men's boots. I know there are other religions out there that cover animals a bit more. Hindu and Bhuddism and stuff like that, but I don't have a lot of confidence that it isn't just a lot of people making things up. 

What I do know is that there are a lot of things in this world that we don't understand. There are a lot of greater powers and smaller things. Whether they have a plan for us or we just exist by happenstance, who can say? All I know is that the things that are smaller are preyed upon by the things that are bigger. That's the natural order. 

But we could do better. We must. I will make sure of it.

A couple jobs ago, one of my coworkers, David, claimed he could talk to the dead.

I thought it was just evil nonsense at the time, but since then Gustav has helped me understand how misguided and hurtful my prejudices against occult people were. Now I don't know what to think. 

Every job I go on, I'm confronted with something greater than myself. It's not too hard to picture. Hell, just go outside and look at the sun. That thing's plenty powerful. I'm used to being small.

I guess the thing that's always been constant is my love of all living things. These jobs haven't convinced me that innocents deserve to die or that mass cruelty is worth a new fur coat. 

Maybe that will happen someday. Until then, I say big whoop to the angels and demons and extra-dimensional druggies. I'm no mass murderer, and I'm not about to become one. Not of innocents anyway.

See often? I've literally only ever seen two of them more than once. 

First one is Lucian, AKA "Mr. E." I'm not sure he even intended to make that joke when he came up with that fake name, but he's a real nice guy. He's a vegan, and he convinced me to become a vegan too! I sleep a lot better now. He's also a real-deal good guy, and he worked with me to kill that rancher. 

I think I want to start some sort of organization with him. He's got a podcast that has a good amount of reach, that's a start. 

The other one is Gustav. We've had our ups and downs in our relationship. I was absolutely certain he was completely evil for the longest time. 

But he was patient with me, and giving. He saved my life, and when I had to burn my identity, he gave me a place to stay. I mean, I still hated his guts, even after he saved my life. But while I was staying with him, he helped me realize that my hatred of occult people was a personal hangup, and kinda prejudice. 

So hopefully I meet a few more people like these fine gentlemen. 

Okay well, it's going to be cozy and warm, but outside is snowy. There's a mud room filled with ski gear, and you can hit the slopes right from your back yard. 

I'd put a big cozy chair in it, with a few books to read, and a TV so I could catch up on my shows. Some workout equipment wouldn't hurt, just for when I'm feeling restless, and there's gotta be a big mug for coffee and cocoa. 

Decoration wise I'm not too picky, but I have always been a fan of the cabin aesthetic. It just feel more real to have all the exposed wood in the walls a ceiling. It's closer to nature, after all. And that's what really matters to me.