[Rosamund is attempting to read a subpar mystery novel. She is only looking more and more frustrated. Eventually she flips a hand in the air and blurts out:]
I can't fault you for trying. I find myself doing much of the same. [ nyeh ] This was...routine, for you all at the longer experiences, wasn't it? As routine as something like this could be.
strohl, who still looks just a little green around the gills, is standing in the snowy ground outside of the cabin, hands on his hips, yellow scarf wrapped around his neck. more importantly - strohl jr, in his adorableness, is FROLICKING in the snow, barely just a pair of visible eyebrows and horns. this is paradise.... ]
You're lucky I wanted to be outside too. Freezing my...
[ a pause. he spots rosamund? and immediately stops talking. ] Your highness. [ pause again. ] Rosie.
[ yeah that seems right! anyway ] The great outdoors, yeah? Finally.
on this fine friday not long after the death announcement, there's a resounding, shattering noise of breaking glass and sparks, the sound of metal slamming into glass, and a shout like a feral animal from somewhere down the hall.
She's not in good spirits at all, but not so despondent that a sudden shock like that won't shake her. Rosamund tracks the source down, trotting, sniffling a bit as she gathers her wits back together and blinks away the tears lining her eyes.
[At some point, she will actively seek him out. For real. She's still looking no better than earlier. She hasn't changed and she hasn't tided herself up much, though her cheeks are clear and her hands are washed after handling Kaworu.
Wherever she finds him in this fine void she will stop a reasonable distance away. Expression despondent, but resigned. She bows her head in greeting. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks.]
I...wondered if you might want a more clear-headed conversation. Now that I can think straight.
[ the way i was like oh i need to write kabby a starter (looks up) anyway im an idiot
sweet baby. that despondent expression says the world, honestly, and - though he pauses, the expression that flashes across his face is complicated, but it mostly falls on concern. worry.
he inhales, and dips his head in return. ]
...I'd like that very much, but - come. Let's sit, and get you some water, first.
[ well. it's been a week! strohl's not necessarily avoided rosamund, but he's not made as much of an effort as he has in the past, taking the time to lick his wounds.
right up until today, at least. a text message! ]
Your highness. I've made dinner - would you like to eat? Rough weekend like this for everyone means it's important we keep our strength up.
honestly - the first thing strohl does is reach out like he can put himself in front of rosamund. it's almost instinct, because a person like that, suspended in briars, is such an eerily human image that it puts him on high alert, and it has to be awful to see yourself that way. to experience it all, all over again. his instinct is as always to protect, and this is no different.
but it's just a memory. and as the first half completes, as the shady looking priest and the clown watch the video, he stills, hand still on his sword. were these executions? this was what she went through? - and he thinks, again, about the words from last week. puppet on a string, it had said. the priest was right; that she took it into her hands is impressive in its own right, in all that horror.
(there's a moment of painful reality that flickers, too - a moment of twisted guilt at his own anger from last week, but its there and back again, gone in a flash.)
by the time the memory fades, his expression is torn open, eyes wide with surprise, breath caught, and it takes a full moment for him to exhale again, shaken. ]
-- Bloody hell, your highness.
[ the first phrase out of his mouth. strohl can handle a lot, and that was a lot. even for him. ]
Well she will let the experts take the lead on his care, helping more with the other two both out of efficiency and also gentle respect.
You can't keep her away for long though. Once he's stabilized and clean and oh so bandaged, once the fretting company and caretakers have departed for a brief respite, Rosamund will materialize next to his bedside, setting down a chamomile tea and some biscuits and cut fruit.]
I don't know how much of an appetite you have yet, but it's here if you need it.
strohl's here in the clinic like a good boy! and even in nice comfy clothes! strohl not wearing a jabot... its like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs....
anyway, he's just kind of settled somewhere, playing with something in his hands - when he sees rosamund come by he tucks it back in his pocket and lifts his head, then smiles. tired, but grateful. ]
Deja vu. [ hah. softly: ] Thank you, your highness. I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't at least try...
[ he'll take a piece of fruit to gently nibble on obediently though it's definitely slow. ] Did anyone else come through after...?
[ after a little bit of hobbling, she'll hear the door unlock and there's strohl! he's still dressed down a bit and looks like death warmed over, but less so than yesterday! yay defib.
the mood is grim mostly, but he ducks his head in greeting, polite noble to his core. ]
Your highness? All alright? All things considered. [ ie no the horrors are persisting but besides that ]
fine. he's about the same. strohl looks like a fucking wreck - upset, angry, clearly only having just managed enough to like, change out of his clothes and shower and try to get his sense about him, but it's not working.
... ]
...'s just me. It's fine. [ his voice is rough, wool-toned, heavy. ]
[as the evening wears on, the newcomer finds herself gravitating to the simplicity of the Gates. There's scarcely a soul here. She sits alone, hands in her lap, thinking.
She turns at the sound of footsteps, and laying eyes upon the man gives her pause.]
Hello?
[Impassive. Until something twitches. Her nose, her brow, her lip hitching up as her breath does too, a spark and alarm unknown to her swelling to a piercing pitch.
[ it's... hard, is the thing, because - thursdays are the worst. not just because of what's to come the night of, but because of the days themselves. people dragged away to come back maimed and hurt, people who talk to him tearfully and tell him they saw him, people who don't deserve to be put through the gauntlet or the wringer the way that they have, over and over and over. out of reach and then catastrophically injured, traumatised. as it turns out, witnessing thursday missions from the other side?
a thousand times worse. watching rosamund die like that, live on screen, knowing there was nothing to be done was one of the most devastatingly upsetting experiences he's had so far, and when she arrived out of her mind and distant, the palpable fury that came with it was closer to heartbreak, to righteous indignant rage for how cruelly these damned games have treated her. he had to step away from that situation before he said something he regretted, but... but he is so worried is the thing, that strohl can suck it up and get over it, that he still wants to check on her, wants to make sure she's alright. and so, out for a walk, he'll tell himself he's not looking, but he is.
-- and, as luck would have it, he finds her at the gates of all places. strohl pauses, emotions rippling at the hello - surprise, that same twist of unhappiness, deep concern, still that frustration, and he's opening his mouth to keep his composure and speak, when rosamund has that spark.
and all of that is forgotten in an instant. he practically bounds across the long space between them, the tidal wave on his end immediately just worry, a swooping gasp of concern and determination to help, and rushing straight to her side as she buries her face in her hands. ] --Your highness.
[ maybe it's a trick or just a moment, but he'd not ever, ever, ever leave someone in need, let alone rosamund - it's an echo of a darkened sports bar, what feels like years ago. ]
[ it's idlesday sunday now! things have settled from our reward info dump, the execution is over, and strohl probably sent rosamund a message to come hang out over dinner and drinks somewhere less cursed. or more cursed? up to you.
for once, he didn't cook the food, but he's picking at his meal absently, sipping from an ale and mulling over the day. his emotions are mostly thoughtful - not necessarily relaxed, but relatively calm with a drink and good company. ]
Long bloody week, once again, but one finally reaching its end. [ holding up his drink for a lil toast. ] Cheers.
[oh, bless you. Coming over shortly, still in her dress from earlier. She doesn't know these locations so well yet and I'm truly squinting at things like ARE YOU GUYS GOOD???
Let's go to chilly's 2.]
Cheers. [She clinks it with a sigh, taking a sip.] I'm so glad to just...I don't know. It's still very high stress of course, but not having to be there in person is both better and worse at the same time? I think?
[ well look strohl's just accompanying rosamund on this fine day and as a certified ye olde, a place called the dreadful wyvern feels about right and interesting? surely this'll be normal? ]
[after leading him away from party games, going to the drinks table to top off first and absconding to one of the private areas.]
Listen, I just really don't want you to feel bad, all right? About the kiss? Because it's definitely not you, I'm just...in a bit of a weird place and I didn't expect to feel the way I did just then.
Oh. [ well! flustered a little, he'll take his drink with her gamely, though he shifts to rub the back of his neck with his free hand. it's hard to unlace the just slight shame from the undertone of his emotions, but he at least ignores it, and it's easier replaced by concern, instead. ] No - by all means, it's alright.
I didn't mean to cause you any undue stress, either. I ought to apologise.
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W0 FIRST SATURDAY
Did they feel like they had to let us know what it is?
[Do you not know thy own ass]
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strohl stares at this and then does not miss a beat: ]
If that's the case - you think they're talking about a posterior or a person... [ as he
picks up the matching sweatshirt from a nearby rack. the one he grabbed is comically small for him but also its for the joke. ]
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No woman talks like this!
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... That bad, your highness?
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W0 SECOND FRIDAY
...As pointless as it is to look for clues now, trying to do anything else always feels like a huge waste of time.
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I can't fault you for trying. I find myself doing much of the same. [ nyeh ] This was...routine, for you all at the longer experiences, wasn't it? As routine as something like this could be.
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week 1, monday!
strohl, who still looks just a little green around the gills, is standing in the snowy ground outside of the cabin, hands on his hips, yellow scarf wrapped around his neck. more importantly - strohl jr, in his adorableness, is FROLICKING in the snow, barely just a pair of visible eyebrows and horns. this is paradise.... ]
You're lucky I wanted to be outside too. Freezing my...
[ a pause. he spots rosamund? and immediately stops talking. ] Your highness. [ pause again. ] Rosie.
[ yeah that seems right! anyway ] The great outdoors, yeah? Finally.
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G-great outdoors. Yes. They're v-v-very great-t-t...
[Her archnemesis, winter. But oh look! his CREATURE.
She tries to stoop to pet it but her snowpants and parka are too thick]
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week 1, friday
on this fine friday not long after the death announcement, there's a resounding, shattering noise of breaking glass and sparks, the sound of metal slamming into glass, and a shout like a feral animal from somewhere down the hall.
yikes! ]
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She's not in good spirits at all, but not so despondent that a sudden shock like that won't shake her. Rosamund tracks the source down, trotting, sniffling a bit as she gathers her wits back together and blinks away the tears lining her eyes.
And eventually:]
Strohl?
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week 1 sat
Your highness.
Can we talk?
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I'm not answering any more questions about hygiene tonight.
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W1 SUNDAY
Wherever she finds him in this fine void she will stop a reasonable distance away. Expression despondent, but resigned. She bows her head in greeting. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks.]
I...wondered if you might want a more clear-headed conversation. Now that I can think straight.
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sweet baby. that despondent expression says the world, honestly, and - though he pauses, the expression that flashes across his face is complicated, but it mostly falls on concern. worry.
he inhales, and dips his head in return. ]
...I'd like that very much, but - come. Let's sit, and get you some water, first.
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week 2, sun
right up until today, at least. a text message! ]
Your highness.
I've made dinner - would you like to eat? Rough weekend like this for everyone means it's important we keep our strength up.
[ or maybe more accurately, an olive branch ]
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That's very sweet of you. Thank you for inviting me, should I come to your lounge?
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W3 MONDAY - body horror, gore, mouth/throat injury, near eye gore, suicide
But first A MEMORY. Please enjoy.]
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honestly - the first thing strohl does is reach out like he can put himself in front of rosamund. it's almost instinct, because a person like that, suspended in briars, is such an eerily human image that it puts him on high alert, and it has to be awful to see yourself that way. to experience it all, all over again. his instinct is as always to protect, and this is no different.
but it's just a memory. and as the first half completes, as the shady looking priest and the clown watch the video, he stills, hand still on his sword. were these executions? this was what she went through? - and he thinks, again, about the words from last week. puppet on a string, it had said. the priest was right; that she took it into her hands is impressive in its own right, in all that horror.
(there's a moment of painful reality that flickers, too - a moment of twisted guilt at his own anger from last week, but its there and back again, gone in a flash.)
by the time the memory fades, his expression is torn open, eyes wide with surprise, breath caught, and it takes a full moment for him to exhale again, shaken. ]
-- Bloody hell, your highness.
[ the first phrase out of his mouth. strohl can handle a lot, and that was a lot. even for him. ]
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W3 THURSDAY
Well she will let the experts take the lead on his care, helping more with the other two both out of efficiency and also gentle respect.
You can't keep her away for long though. Once he's stabilized and clean and oh so bandaged, once the fretting company and caretakers have departed for a brief respite, Rosamund will materialize next to his bedside, setting down a chamomile tea and some biscuits and cut fruit.]
I don't know how much of an appetite you have yet, but it's here if you need it.
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strohl's here in the clinic like a good boy! and even in nice comfy clothes! strohl not wearing a jabot... its like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs....
anyway, he's just kind of settled somewhere, playing with something in his hands - when he sees rosamund come by he tucks it back in his pocket and lifts his head, then smiles. tired, but grateful. ]
Deja vu. [ hah. softly: ] Thank you, your highness. I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't at least try...
[ he'll take a piece of fruit to gently nibble on obediently though it's definitely slow. ] Did anyone else come through after...?
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W3 FRIDAY
Strohl? Are you in there?
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[ after a little bit of hobbling, she'll hear the door unlock and there's strohl! he's still dressed down a bit and looks like death warmed over, but less so than yesterday! yay defib.
the mood is grim mostly, but he ducks his head in greeting, polite noble to his core. ]
Your highness? All alright? All things considered. [ ie no the horrors are persisting but besides that ]
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W3 SATURDAY
She's actually just in the sportzone. The bar. Pulling herself a pint in the darkness alone. Looking absolutely horrified.
She startles when she hears footsteps come in.]
...
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fine. he's about the same. strohl looks like a fucking wreck - upset, angry, clearly only having just managed enough to like, change out of his clothes and shower and try to get his sense about him, but it's not working.
... ]
...'s just me. It's fine. [ his voice is rough, wool-toned, heavy. ]
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W4 MONDAY
Are you feeling in a bit better shape?
[There is a pact they have made, after all.]
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here he is! greatsword over his shoulder, grin on his face - a little teasing, a little roguish. alpha week. ]
Is that a challenge, your highness? Thinly veiled?
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W4 MONDAY but also much later at night...
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What's that?
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W4 WEDNESDAY
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clears his throat: ]
Alright. So. I've an idea. Let's just completely forget that ever happened. Sound good?
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W5 THURSDAY
She turns at the sound of footsteps, and laying eyes upon the man gives her pause.]
Hello?
[Impassive. Until something twitches. Her nose, her brow, her lip hitching up as her breath does too, a spark and alarm unknown to her swelling to a piercing pitch.
She thrusts her face in her hands.]
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a thousand times worse. watching rosamund die like that, live on screen, knowing there was nothing to be done was one of the most devastatingly upsetting experiences he's had so far, and when she arrived out of her mind and distant, the palpable fury that came with it was closer to heartbreak, to righteous indignant rage for how cruelly these damned games have treated her. he had to step away from that situation before he said something he regretted, but... but he is so worried is the thing, that strohl can suck it up and get over it, that he still wants to check on her, wants to make sure she's alright. and so, out for a walk, he'll tell himself he's not looking, but he is.
-- and, as luck would have it, he finds her at the gates of all places. strohl pauses, emotions rippling at the hello - surprise, that same twist of unhappiness, deep concern, still that frustration, and he's opening his mouth to keep his composure and speak, when rosamund has that spark.
and all of that is forgotten in an instant. he practically bounds across the long space between them, the tidal wave on his end immediately just worry, a swooping gasp of concern and determination to help, and rushing straight to her side as she buries her face in her hands. ] --Your highness.
[ maybe it's a trick or just a moment, but he'd not ever, ever, ever leave someone in need, let alone rosamund - it's an echo of a darkened sports bar, what feels like years ago. ]
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CW: suicide
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week 5, sun
idlesdaysunday now! things have settled from our reward info dump, the execution is over, and strohl probably sent rosamund a message to come hang out over dinner and drinks somewhere less cursed. or more cursed? up to you.for once, he didn't cook the food, but he's picking at his meal absently, sipping from an ale and mulling over the day. his emotions are mostly thoughtful - not necessarily relaxed, but relatively calm with a drink and good company. ]
Long bloody week, once again, but one finally reaching its end. [ holding up his drink for a lil toast. ] Cheers.
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Let's go to chilly's 2.]
Cheers. [She clinks it with a sigh, taking a sip.] I'm so glad to just...I don't know. It's still very high stress of course, but not having to be there in person is both better and worse at the same time? I think?
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W6 MONDAY
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Do you think it's a tav -
[ the door opens
NOT A TAVERN go his thoughts ]
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week 7, monday
i feel as though i must ask this to know the tone of this pc ]
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W7 WEDNESDAY (POST PARTY)
Listen, I just really don't want you to feel bad, all right? About the kiss? Because it's definitely not you, I'm just...in a bit of a weird place and I didn't expect to feel the way I did just then.
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Oh. [ well! flustered a little, he'll take his drink with her gamely, though he shifts to rub the back of his neck with his free hand. it's hard to unlace the just slight shame from the undertone of his emotions, but he at least ignores it, and it's easier replaced by concern, instead. ] No - by all means, it's alright.
I didn't mean to cause you any undue stress, either. I ought to apologise.
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W7 SATURDAY
I believe I owe you a date. No strings attached of course. But I am still expecting a good meal or at least a drink.
Interested?
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Things have quieted, if you’d like to come by?
We’ve both here in spades.
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