Changeling: Lost - Rosie tat prose
Feb. 18th, 2008 09:28 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annwfyn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsIt was 5 am, and Rosie was restless, which made her uncomfortable. She didn't like the twitching her muscles, or the ache in her head. She disliked the way that she seemed to feel too hot in one place, and too cold in another, and she loathed the way that her feet seemed to itch whenever she sat still for too long. Walking was not something dolls did, and Rosie felt it was mildly inappropriate for her to roam all over the place, on those silly flapping legs.
Still, she could not settle.
Everything seemed strange and awkward tonight.
Rea was upset about something, which Rosie did not understand, but vaguely expected was another of those things that she would make Rea's fists itch if she asked about. Rea's fists itching was something that Rosie was acutely and painfully aware of, and had lately led to her sleeping only in the most unexpected of places. She had lived with the Lady Spindle Fingers long enough to have a detailed understanding of how much someone else's anger could hurt, and she had a dark suspicion that Rea would be quite capable of replicating most of the Lady Spindle Fingers' more destructive rages. But this time, there wouldn't be a Lord who would put her eyes back her socket, or replace her broken limbs with newer and stronger ones. Here she only had these soft and squishy body parts, and if she lost them there would be no more Rosie.
Carin seemed fine. He and Aria had retired to bed earlier, after much whispering and lingering looks. Rosie chose to ignore the very mild sense of loss she had over that entire affair. It wasn't that she wanted Carin in that way (for that would be exceedingly inappropriate), but for a short period of time, it had mostly just been Rosie and Carin living together, and Rosie missed that.
Doug was curled up, asleep on the heart. He wasn't meant to sleep there, but he liked it, and sometimes snuck out from his bedroom to settle there for a time. Rosie considered curling up next to him for a while, and sharing his warmth, but then he shifted, and she moved on.
Everything felt wrong tonight.
Jack in the Smoke had vanished off somewhere. He was still tense from the evening. No one mentioned the Archduke and his retinue in front of Jack. Everyone seemed to be hoping that he might forget about them, but Rosie suspected he would not. Something that group had done had triggered something in Jack which was not often touched upon, and Rosie was uncomfortably aware that both Jack and Cormac were not really gentle creatures. They were made of death, steel and fear, hidden behind smoke and flash.
She wandered over to the window, and managed to balance precariously and uncomfortably on the windowsil. The stars outside looked clean and still. Rosie wished briefly that she could fly. She wished that she could be up there, with them. She wouldn't be human anymore. She wouldn't be this messy, useless lump of meat. She could be beautiful again.
Rosie sighed.
The Archduke and his retinue had confused her. They had seemed nice to her, although half the room was seething with tension. She had liked Drago, the killer with the dark eyes. He had made her laugh, which was rare. That he wanted to 'court' her, according to Carin, was somewhat unnerving. Courtship was something Rosie understood. Courtship was about power, it was about playing a game that she felt wholly inadequate for. Courtship led to romance, which didn't work here quite the same way it did back home, but seemed equally complex and cruel at times.
Rosie sighed.
Still, a little bit of her had not been unhappy. She hadn't wanted to tell Carin to make Drago go away, but maybe she should have done.
Rosie jammed herself into the windowsil firmly, pressing her feet against one side of the windowframe and her back against the other. It was cold here, but that meant that after a while she would become numb. She liked that idea. She would stop feeling, and stop worrying, and if Rea did catch up with her, it would definitely hurt less.
She rested her forehead against the windowpane and stared out into the murky green sky.
She wondered what the stars were looking down on. Did they watch over Arcadia as well as this place?
She was still wondering about that as she drifted into a strange and painful sleep, which held her close until Carin found her in the morning.
Still, she could not settle.
Everything seemed strange and awkward tonight.
Rea was upset about something, which Rosie did not understand, but vaguely expected was another of those things that she would make Rea's fists itch if she asked about. Rea's fists itching was something that Rosie was acutely and painfully aware of, and had lately led to her sleeping only in the most unexpected of places. She had lived with the Lady Spindle Fingers long enough to have a detailed understanding of how much someone else's anger could hurt, and she had a dark suspicion that Rea would be quite capable of replicating most of the Lady Spindle Fingers' more destructive rages. But this time, there wouldn't be a Lord who would put her eyes back her socket, or replace her broken limbs with newer and stronger ones. Here she only had these soft and squishy body parts, and if she lost them there would be no more Rosie.
Carin seemed fine. He and Aria had retired to bed earlier, after much whispering and lingering looks. Rosie chose to ignore the very mild sense of loss she had over that entire affair. It wasn't that she wanted Carin in that way (for that would be exceedingly inappropriate), but for a short period of time, it had mostly just been Rosie and Carin living together, and Rosie missed that.
Doug was curled up, asleep on the heart. He wasn't meant to sleep there, but he liked it, and sometimes snuck out from his bedroom to settle there for a time. Rosie considered curling up next to him for a while, and sharing his warmth, but then he shifted, and she moved on.
Everything felt wrong tonight.
Jack in the Smoke had vanished off somewhere. He was still tense from the evening. No one mentioned the Archduke and his retinue in front of Jack. Everyone seemed to be hoping that he might forget about them, but Rosie suspected he would not. Something that group had done had triggered something in Jack which was not often touched upon, and Rosie was uncomfortably aware that both Jack and Cormac were not really gentle creatures. They were made of death, steel and fear, hidden behind smoke and flash.
She wandered over to the window, and managed to balance precariously and uncomfortably on the windowsil. The stars outside looked clean and still. Rosie wished briefly that she could fly. She wished that she could be up there, with them. She wouldn't be human anymore. She wouldn't be this messy, useless lump of meat. She could be beautiful again.
Rosie sighed.
The Archduke and his retinue had confused her. They had seemed nice to her, although half the room was seething with tension. She had liked Drago, the killer with the dark eyes. He had made her laugh, which was rare. That he wanted to 'court' her, according to Carin, was somewhat unnerving. Courtship was something Rosie understood. Courtship was about power, it was about playing a game that she felt wholly inadequate for. Courtship led to romance, which didn't work here quite the same way it did back home, but seemed equally complex and cruel at times.
Rosie sighed.
Still, a little bit of her had not been unhappy. She hadn't wanted to tell Carin to make Drago go away, but maybe she should have done.
Rosie jammed herself into the windowsil firmly, pressing her feet against one side of the windowframe and her back against the other. It was cold here, but that meant that after a while she would become numb. She liked that idea. She would stop feeling, and stop worrying, and if Rea did catch up with her, it would definitely hurt less.
She rested her forehead against the windowpane and stared out into the murky green sky.
She wondered what the stars were looking down on. Did they watch over Arcadia as well as this place?
She was still wondering about that as she drifted into a strange and painful sleep, which held her close until Carin found her in the morning.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-02-18 07:13 pm (UTC)He made his way to the balcony, and wached he rose fingers of the sun creep over the horizon, feeling inside him the ancient beast stir, and his mood lightened. It was not a storm, it was not alive, but for the moment he enjoyed the feeling of the warmth on his skin, the whispering touch of the air against his cheek.
The twitch to his left made him turn, not swiftly, for here in his own home he felt in little danger, but calling to mind the pacts he had made with the Storm King, the quickening of the air around him marking his caution rather than any true fear. The Zephyr slowed, then ceased when he saw Rosie wrapped on the ground inside the house, and he smiled warmly. He stepped over to her, and looked at her for a moment, before sitting on the ground next to her and continuing to watch the sun climb into the sky, thinking of earlier, easier times, when the grass had been greener, and the scream of the Dragons had marked another hunt beginning.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-18 08:13 pm (UTC)She consulted her notes, painstakingly written the night before. They showed a route around Scotland, how long it would take to get from tree to tree, and an estimate of how much she could spin on each train journey, given no delays. Before she'd blinked she'd gotten hold of a couple of knitting needles and knitted a quick square to see how long it would take. With that, she planned how long it would take to make a knitted hauberk, one for each member of the motley. If she got the gallowroot. She wasn't sure how much Charlie would charge. He was courtless, so she couldn't swing a discount. Why wasn't Aria doing the bargaining? There was only so much time for sex, and she stood to be next killed by Darist. Or Carin could talk to Charlie...
She thought about that for a moment, and then rejected it. Charlie hated flummery as much as she did. And she was not letting anyone hit her motley but her.
She sighed. She had no idea what the right price was. She usually wound up giving Charlie cash and cash was something she had precious little of. She wished she could trade in time. That was something she had a lot of, and it meant little to her.
She stood up from where she had been, invisible in the flowerbeds. She took out a tape measure and went in search of her motley mates. If she quailed about taking Rosie's measurements, it never showed on her face.