writing_shadows

Rea stirred to life in the stretch of lawn where she'd been crouched all night, watching Rosie sleep through a window. When she talked, she was so animated. The word "bouncy" even came unbidden to mind. And, on her own,shwe was capable of stirring just about any member of the motley to a frenzy activity; Rea remembered the look on Carin's face when she'd decided to tell him that Rosie was talking to the archduke Domdaniel. In fact, Rea as possibly the only member this didn't affect all that much, except inasmuch as it might save Carin the trouble.

On her own, though, Rosie was different. She'd been watching for a while now. Such strange changes of mood were...she paused. More complete than they were in humans. Oh, it was all very well to say "spring" and dismiss it--hadn't she been doing that for months?--but there was something there, underneath. A cog wasn't turning right. The mechanism was flawed. Rosie was broken. Maye not like Aline, but the signs were the same. Unevenness of keel.

She paused, frowning. Since Carin had asked her if she could sail, and she'd replied "yes," she'd had hints of fragmtents of memory, of blue jackets and spray in her face, of watching water go by in big sushes. She even saw a pair of hands once, large and gnarled, calloused, but she couldn't see any more than that.

So yes, Rosue was broken. The irony was, if she were still a figurehead she would know how to fix her.