logsinthenight | The tailback of timorous souls

Entry tags:

The tailback of timorous souls | OTA

characters: Rosinante, OTA
location: Church, elsewhere?
date/time: 7/7 evening
content: After the dubious honor of being the first to die, Rosi also is the first to be revived in the church.
warnings: n/a for now

There's a crash out on the rocks; a rattle of glass and metal, caught just wrong on sharp granite, and then cold darkness overtakes him.

And for a moment, he thinks perhaps he dreamed it, for there is the oddest sensation of waking from a deep slumber. For a moment he thinks he still feels icy cold. But there's no wind over the water, no sharp ache in his chest. The church is comfortable and lit. How did he get here? Why is he basically just lying at someone's feet? Who-

"Uh, sorry. Hello."

A few minutes later, if you weren't present for him being tossed out the trap door, he'll just be sitting on the floor with legs bent at the knees and lantern beside him. Death is never pleasant and he needs a moment, plus it sounds like there were people looking for him. They shouldn't have, but so it goes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Mary-"

Oh, no, was she really waiting here? Of course she would, she's attached herself to him for some inexplicable reason and he's frustrated with himself for encouraging it. But she's so sweet, and just as in need of someone to care about as he apparently is.

"Hey. I'm sorry I went away. I made a mistake."

Mary runs the rest of the way, throwing herself into him--well, his knee, most likely. Regardless, the intent behind her embrace is clear as her shoulders shake and her voice warbles. "It's okay--it's okay! I forgive you, because I make mistakes sometimes, too. But don't leave again, okay? You said you would be okay, so you really have to be okay from now on!"

"I'll try," he sighs. "But I think I shouldn't promise. Mary, after we get organized, I'm going out with some other people to try and find more things that will help us. But it's dangerous out there in ways we don't know about yet. I'll always do my best to come back, but I can't promise."

Seeing as how quickly he'd been wrong, better head anything else off quickly. He reaches down to pat her on the back though, as close to a hug as he's willing to attempt.

"But if you don't...if you don't promise, how can I be sure it's for real?" She doesn't understand, truly, the concept of danger, of necessity, of exploration in this place. Can't they just live and be happy? Can't they just be together? "I hate it, I hate it when people leave."

"I know. I'm so sorry. But I came back, right? I was only gone for a couple days, and I came right back. Can I make it up to you somehow? We could go do something fun, like painting."

Honestly, anything to get her to give this up. She's a cute kid, and he feels deeply for her already given that it seems they've had some similar experiences in life. Things kids shouldn't ever have to go through. But he can't sit around and babysit her either. She can't rely on him and him alone when he has a budding, self-imposed duty to help them all as a whole group. It's just who he is.

Mary shakes her head vigorously, but after a moment, at least, she lets go of him and wipes her face. She's still crying, her tears falling even as she tries to stop them, but she's trying, at least. Trying something. Trying...to compromise?

"Where ever you go, I can't follow."

She knows, because she's too scared. Because she's too small. Because freedom to go beyond a set border isn't something she's ever experienced before. Mary pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket. When she unfolds it to give to him, it's a picture of what seems to be meant as him, herself, and Wade.

"Will you keep this with you? That way...you won't forget that I'm here?"

It's true, she's right, and yet part of him hopes that some day, if they're here long enough, she'll be able to become a little adventurer herself. Kids her age often become competent young adults in his world when not much older than she is, for not every island has schools or values childhood particularly. He doesn't want her to give up childhood and grow up as quickly as he had to, but perhaps someday she can follow.

There's a soft gasp of air from him when she unfolds the drawing, and he takes it gingerly. Between this unbelievably sweet gesture and her own crying, he can't help that tears begin to well in his own eyes. "You drew something for me," he whispers, and again he wonders what the hell he did to deserve this. Wouldn't she rather hang out with someone close to her age? Someone cooler, someone smarter? Someone who doesn't share her very same fear of being forgotten and alone?

"I- thank you," he says, and nods, though he's not ready to fold it up just yet. "Of course I'll keep it. Always. I'm never forgetting you, that's a promise I can definitely keep."

Nodding, Mary seems to finally be more appeased, and her tears slow. Despite the redness in her face, her smile becomes brighter. "Of course I drew you a picture, silly! I wanted to give you something so you'd know how much I missed you."

She clasps her hands together and takes a steadying breath. Then, she hesitates, and straightens herself up. Mary seems to have come to some conclusion, perhaps reflecting on how abruptly and emotionally she had greeted him. Now, it's time for something proper:

"Welcome home, Rosi!"

She's too sweet and he doesn't deserve this. But that doesn't change the fact that apparently, she's determined to thank him, to welcome him, to forgive him. He wipes his tears away with a sleeve before they can really threaten to spill out over his eyelids, and sets the paper beside him on the pew as he smiles down at her. Somehow, spontaneously, she's adopted that childhood nickname his parents and brother had used for him, but he doesn't mind. His full first name is unwieldy anyway.

She deserves at least a hug, but he can't bring himself to give it. After the pain of separation so suddenly from Law, he's just not ready to hand out affection to anyone else yet. He does settle a huge hand on one of her tiny shoulders though, instead, and squeezes gently as a grin spreads slowly across his face. "Thanks, Mary. I'm glad I'm back."

It was an easy jump for her to make; aside from his name being too long for her to feel bothered about trying to say all the time, the sound of it reminds her of one thing she loves so dearly: a beautiful red rose. If she's the yellow rose and he's the red rose, perhaps that makes Wade a blue rose. And that way, she's never lost anything at all, has she? It settles much of her unease at her own situation.

Mary giggles as he smiles. Now, things will be much better! "We should have a tea party!"

"Should we?" The declaration is so abrupt that he gives a short laugh of surprise.

But... "All right," he concedes, because seriously, why the hell not? He's just died and come back to life for the second time in just over a week, so having a tea party with a little girl is a perfectly reasonable thing to do next. Really.

"Do you already have tea and cups or should we stop by the store?" he asks as he stands, and retrieves the drawing to fold up and slip into his pocket.

"Let's stop by the store! We can find cookies, too."

Tea and cookies! They'll be a special treat for her friend, and she'll try not to eat them all herself, too.

"I want to find a teacup that makes me think of you. Something...red! Maybe with stripes!"

"Stripes, huh? I like that. Red with stripes," he agrees and heads out of the church and toward the ship with his hands in his pockets, as is habit. "Not a big fan of cookies, though. You can have those. I'm sure they'll have other good tea party treats."

He has to keep his pace pretty slow to let her keep up with him, and he occasionally glances toward her to make sure she's running along just fine. Surely this distraction can only end well for him.

"You don't like cookies? How come?"

Not that she can say she's met enough people to claim that everyone likes cookies...she just thought those were the kind of things that everyone did like!

"What are your favorite treats, then? I need to make sure I know all about your favorite things!"

"I just-"

Yep, there it is. He takes a step and misses the ground as his foot comes back down, sending him straight to the ground in a roll and a sprawl of limbs. But he's at least learned well enough to control his walking stick that the lantern is mounted on so that as he goes flying, he angles the lantern away so it doesn't get caught in the flailing. It clatters against the ground and makes him feel briefly winded, but he reaches for it and takes it back up after a second, then stands and carries on answering to try and keep her from freaking out. It's the only way any of them learn to just let him be.

"Uh, just don't like them. Texture thing. The crispy ones are okay sometimes. My favorite treat's umeboshi, though, do you know what those are?"

Mary sucks in a breath when he falls...but he recovers so quickly and just keep talking that she chews on her lip instead of saying anything. Then she shakes her head. "No, I've never heard of them before."

"They're these little pickled and dried plums. Really salty and really tart but so addicting. They're really good with rice."

The thought alone makes his mouth water. What if he never finds any here in the shop? It seemed to have a strange selection of items, a lot of things he just wasn't familiar with. Thankfully though the more basic fresh ingredients are things he can cook passably well. But no treats like umeboshi, or the bowl of arare like Sengoku used to keep on his desk for visitors.

"They sound delicious!" She hums, thinking, and then makes a decision. "I'm going to get you some as a present!"

She'll find a way. With her connections. Her connection is Rastus. Everyone's connection is Rastus.

"And then we'll eat them together!"

"Sure, if you can get some," he says, laughing a little. Surely Rastus must know what they are, right?

"And then I can show you how to make a few different snacks with them. I'm not a great cook, but I know a little," he says. Probably no grilling given her dislike of fire, even though food cooked over a campfire is one of the simplest ways to make something immediately delicious. But boiling rice or noodles is easy, as is carefully cutting up some vegetables for a salad. She's definitely old enough to start learning some of those skills, if she hasn't already.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The tailback of timorous souls | OTA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject