It's in passing the bonfire that he sees it first - that faint reflection, that glimmer of light off a strand hanging in the air. Someone walks by, heading this way or that, but they're not moving of their own will for from the center of their shoulders sprouts a string that shoots upward into the sky.
It puts him immediately on edge and he stares, watching. He's seen this before. The village was destroyed soon after as his brother tested the limits of his powers. But surely if Doflamingo had arrived here, he would have known already. Wouldn't have missed him coming off the ferry. Doffy doesn't make subtle entrances.
He waits, he watches, then eventually he calls out "Hey," and waves his good hand. The other, his left, remains in its sling at his side from his earlier injury. He sounds casual, despite the fear seizing his chest. Wouldn't want to tip anyone off that he's noticed, after all.
2. Oct. 13 - Library
By now, Rosinante is certain he's going mad, but at least he's not alone. Enough of the people here have seen strange things that make no sense, things that shouldn't be happening, and it brings the jellyfish spirits to mind. Trying to read and shut out everything else is a new attempt at escape, but it hasn't helped, because the hands keep turning the pages of his books. Keep picking up books off the shelves and throwing them violently at him, causing him to duck or fall right out of his chair. Finally, frustrated, he grinds his teeth and throws his own book at the nearest sign of movement, which might just be you. Better dodge fast, he has good aim!
3. Oct. 15 - Boathouse ruins
Maybe there's something here worth salvaging. Maybe it can be rebuilt. He'll do anything at this point to avoid being around other people, because the hands and their puppeteering strings and the laughter ringing in his ears, too familiar for comfort, have him in a foul mood.
He's overtaken by the stench of blood and gunpowder as he passes a collapsed section of the former wall. Had someone been shot here? Shit, is it too late? He leans down and sets his lantern on the ground in order to free up his hand and lift the wood panel from where it leans on another, and reveals a body. Headless, dressed in patched and decaying clothing, once fine linen now soaked with dark crimson. Recognition rocks through him, sends him sprawling backward with a clatter of wood and a strangled cry before he claps a hand over his own mouth and silences every sound. But even silenced, he can't hide the visible anguish as he turns sideways and his chest contracts in a dry heave.
4. Oct. 17, outside the Invincible. Closed to Kuai.
Staying locked indoors isn't helping. He tried that already. His room smells like wood smoke and the hands reach up the walls and fill the space with pitchforks and stones, swords and arrows. They slice and carve at his skin, and even though by now he's satisfied that the blood isn't real, sometimes the scars linger long enough that he fears they'll become as permanent as the rest.
He staggers down the stairs and out the door, rounds the corner of the building and finds himself merely feet away from the very person he's been running from this entire week, dressed in his finest suit and sunglasses, shrouded in feathers, and it no longer matters if this is real or not because Rosi only knows how to react. He's too exhausted to think his actions through. In one swift motion he drops his lantern and palms his flintlock, sweeping it up in an arc to aim at his brother, his killer, finger already twitching to squeeze the trigger.
OTA + 1 closed | CW: injury, gore
It's in passing the bonfire that he sees it first - that faint reflection, that glimmer of light off a strand hanging in the air. Someone walks by, heading this way or that, but they're not moving of their own will for from the center of their shoulders sprouts a string that shoots upward into the sky.
It puts him immediately on edge and he stares, watching. He's seen this before. The village was destroyed soon after as his brother tested the limits of his powers. But surely if Doflamingo had arrived here, he would have known already. Wouldn't have missed him coming off the ferry. Doffy doesn't make subtle entrances.
He waits, he watches, then eventually he calls out "Hey," and waves his good hand. The other, his left, remains in its sling at his side from his earlier injury. He sounds casual, despite the fear seizing his chest. Wouldn't want to tip anyone off that he's noticed, after all.
2. Oct. 13 - Library
By now, Rosinante is certain he's going mad, but at least he's not alone. Enough of the people here have seen strange things that make no sense, things that shouldn't be happening, and it brings the jellyfish spirits to mind. Trying to read and shut out everything else is a new attempt at escape, but it hasn't helped, because the hands keep turning the pages of his books. Keep picking up books off the shelves and throwing them violently at him, causing him to duck or fall right out of his chair. Finally, frustrated, he grinds his teeth and throws his own book at the nearest sign of movement, which might just be you. Better dodge fast, he has good aim!
3. Oct. 15 - Boathouse ruins
Maybe there's something here worth salvaging. Maybe it can be rebuilt. He'll do anything at this point to avoid being around other people, because the hands and their puppeteering strings and the laughter ringing in his ears, too familiar for comfort, have him in a foul mood.
He's overtaken by the stench of blood and gunpowder as he passes a collapsed section of the former wall. Had someone been shot here? Shit, is it too late? He leans down and sets his lantern on the ground in order to free up his hand and lift the wood panel from where it leans on another, and reveals a body. Headless, dressed in patched and decaying clothing, once fine linen now soaked with dark crimson. Recognition rocks through him, sends him sprawling backward with a clatter of wood and a strangled cry before he claps a hand over his own mouth and silences every sound. But even silenced, he can't hide the visible anguish as he turns sideways and his chest contracts in a dry heave.
4. Oct. 17, outside the Invincible. Closed to Kuai.
Staying locked indoors isn't helping. He tried that already. His room smells like wood smoke and the hands reach up the walls and fill the space with pitchforks and stones, swords and arrows. They slice and carve at his skin, and even though by now he's satisfied that the blood isn't real, sometimes the scars linger long enough that he fears they'll become as permanent as the rest.
He staggers down the stairs and out the door, rounds the corner of the building and finds himself merely feet away from the very person he's been running from this entire week, dressed in his finest suit and sunglasses, shrouded in feathers, and it no longer matters if this is real or not because Rosi only knows how to react. He's too exhausted to think his actions through. In one swift motion he drops his lantern and palms his flintlock, sweeping it up in an arc to aim at his brother, his killer, finger already twitching to squeeze the trigger.