divinity's reach

Rosaleigh Weiss. 32. Florist. Former Vessel of Gabriel. Telekinetic. Florist of The Enchanted Florist.

[inexcelsior-blog]

hellhazards: 

     Caught between holding in his breath from moving his chest and yelling in pain, her hands were both a comfort and a curse all in one touch. A struggled out, whisper of an “Ow, alive,” was all he managed to form in words as he refocused from the stars above to her face, her face. There was a rush of relief to know she was safe, and then panic. Had the woman come back to the finish the job? Had she been here the entire time and felt to play out her sadistic game of breaking and playing with faces and trust? Had he misjudged Rose for being– no, he was certain of that. No one could fake or pretend as Rose did without fault and Rose understood as he did her, with grazes of touch and mumbled apologies. The only question was: who was this?

He squirmed under her touch, brows lowered and eyes searched for any tell or feature that distinguished a lie from truth yet it would have been a struggle to move and observe wholly. No tell of amusement, no tell of jest, and something was different about her clothing, the peaks of her shoulders that brought it into view, that he couldn’t place or determine it as something to fear or trust. Her eyes, though, her eyes only reflected back a concern that made him want to fall into belief despite his wariness. This was Rose, or… or was he wishing it was.

“How did–” His voice was soft and strained, barely capable of its normal baritone without proper support behind it. “How did we meet?” What a funny question to ask, wasn’t it? He was at her mercy, whatever morale it might have been, and had she failed the answer there was nothing he could do to protest or argue against her following actions. And what a funny question to ask as his shirt sopped the blood coming from his sores, clinging and pulling on his skin with subtle movement while words only wasted time.

         Relief and fear flooded over her all at once, a dam broken by the sight of him both for being alive and his current state. Immediately Rose stopped shaking at his chest, offered the weakest of smiles to the small bout of reprieve his status as living gave. Though it didn’t look as if it’d last long, especially not if they stayed in the middle of the forest. His question gave her pause, made the gears in the back of her head stop churning as to how she’d move him. And after a moment she took in a sharp breath and pretended she couldn’t taste the blood heavy in the air with it.

“You came into my flower shop and asked to buy some zinnias.” It was a comical memory, especially now with the moment feeling so heavy. “And a vase broke. I wouldn’t let you pay for it.” Though he had insisted. Without knowing him, how awkward he was, he seemed so sure of himself that day. He smiled a lot, despite their little quarrel. She’d have to use her curse to move him. That was it. No matter how much blood insisted on pooling into her nose and oozing out she’d have to do it, and he’d have questions she was sure. But it was better than him dying in the woods alone.

“I’m going to move you, okay? We have to get out of the woods.” It hurt, the pinch and the pull of her power, especially with how exhausted she was from fending off her own would-be attacker. With effort she lifted him from the damp forest floor, guided where she wanted him to go with her hands though they didn’t touch him again. It’d be slow, surely, but she knew she had to do it.

[inexcelsior-blog]

hellhazards: 

     Average nights. No worry to the terror behind the city’s borders for the moment, no concerns for what tomorrow would bring. Henry appreciated these days, when the world didn’t feel like it was colliding and merging in on itself over its own people. But his life was no longer average. Henry was now connected to someone he considered a close friend when their connection was more intimate and invading than even what friends should share. And an average night, no matter accustomed he was to them, did not mean a peaceful one.

Eyes shut, and rattling behind eyelids, he felt wide awake and only five years old again, staring out the window into the black night. This dream never changed, although it sometimes began in the middle or just before the end, and the end was never true to history. He was trying to count the stars in the sky, but none could be seen for the imitation lights beaming from below. His mother and father were speaking calmly, happily to each other. He wished he could stay in this moment forever, stop the dream here because in this part they were still a family. They were coming home from a family dinner.

Yet his dreams never gave him that wish: a second later something crosses the road, and another car collides into them. He can see his father’s shoulders sitting in front of him, slumped and awkward in the seat, unmoving when he calls to him. His mother, he can see right into her eyes, the same echoing back into his without recognition with cuts and debris along her face. If the dream mocked reality, he would sit here and wait, watch his mother’s image flee from him as the police pull him out of the car an hour later. Instead, she moves, just before she screams and comes after him, waking him to scream into the night and see the image still before him at the foot of his bed.

But it’s not just him anymore, not the two of them. Rose. He didn’t know if she witnessed it, felt the terror of a boy’s world unwinding before him. For once, instead of focusing on the disguised demon before him, he rose from his bed and went to her.

@inexcelsior

         There was still so much between the two of them that seemed misunderstood, or perhaps neither of them was willing to breach into the other’s mind. Rose herself was always so standalone, so ready to bear any pain on her own and shirk and sense of discomfort it gave. Despite sharing a link to Henry’s mind she didn’t feel right pressing into the edges of it, and though she was always aware of his presence in hers it seemed he was never willing to do the same. So they stayed separate, yet together, under one roof in which the two of them barely spoke to one another ... lest it be through text messages or picture images. Even then the conversations were soft, ending until another image popped up hours later.

Flowers. He liked to send her flowers, never asking what they were but always with a “perhaps you’d like these”. And she did. Rose was too easy a person to please like that. The night’s intrusion was a surprise in and of itself, her own gray and meaningless dream washed away by broken images of the horrific accident. Blood and glass, the screeching of the tires and the shout all mixed in a clout and it was difficult to make anything in sure out ... outside of the car accident. Outside of the understanding of what happened.

Her own muted shout came with the lunged screech though Rose was unsure of what it was, whereas Henry knew exactly. But it wasn’t real. Not to her, and with the frazzled, broken imagery of just waking with such a start she began to puzzle together that it wasn’t her dream. It was Henry’s. With hair straggled over her face, matted with sweat to her forehead, Rose peered over to the door and clutched the sheet to her chest, expecting to see the too-tall figure looming in the doorway. With a hard swallow, something to lessen the harsh dryness of her throat, Rose nearly whispered his name. “Henry?”

[inexcelsior-blog]

Hope Falls, Jeremy Soule

[listen here]

It’s terribly easy to fall in love with the Guild Wars 2 soundtrack and to find music to suit any mood, but it’s difficult to pinpoint music in that soundtrack that suits a character. Rose has always been difficult with musical themes because there doesn’t seem to be a song with lyrics that suits her ... but Hope Falls is an easy choice of musical score that highlights the strongest parts of her personality. She’s a woman of failing faith, thrust into a world she knows nothing about and has a heart full of fear but open eyes on the matter. She’s infinitely lonely and has suffered a tragic life ( that she can’t quite recall properly ) and yet she trudges on. There’s some kind of hope there, there’s always been hope there ... but it’s failing as she loses faith. Both in herself and in her situation at hand. Loss of faith has always been one of the strongest points of Rose ... and Hope Falls captures that perfectly.

[inexcelsior-blog]

persephonebixby:

“Confining myself to nature for a week was my own choosing, yes, but do you know how quickly I went through hot chocolate?” Her eyebrows arched slightly at the person beside her, their eyes seeming to border judgmental for her outward appearance. Sure, she was a bit disheveled, but she could’ve looked worse. “So since you’ve decided to take the seat across from me, care to catch me up on anything I’ve missed while I cling to this mug like a lifeline?”

         “It was the only empty seat.” Rosaleigh explained softly, her eyes flickering up briefly at the brunette before falling back down to her phone. It was rare for her to receive a text message from anyone, usually they were work related or the odd question from Henry, and they were just as quickly answered as they were received. When her response was off an away Rose took a swallow of her own tea and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not really the best person to ask. I keep my nose out of everyone’s business...”

[panashaa]

[inexcelsior-blog]

demuretaylor: 

“It really is so pretty here, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve spent so much time in big cities, that I nearly forgot what it’s like to just sit and look at trees and flowers.”

         “I’ve been here quite a while. The novelty of the town itself has worn off, especially in the forest.” Teeth worked at her lower lip at the thought of the darkness beyond the treeline. Rose gave the smallest shake of her head. “I work in a flower shop. So at least the flowers are nice anywhere.”

[inexcelsior-blog]

magnetic-cyrus: 

Staring at the person before him, Cyrus stretched his fingers over the pad before him. He’d been tasked with the action of getting a read on everyone in town before he was sent to switch off guard duties. It was becoming tiring, making small talk as he read the people, asking questions, gauging not only their literal answers, but the answers their very being seemed to give off as well. Especially as this was far from his regular form of magic. Honestly, he was still trying to get a hang on the whole practice.

“So, you’re pretty settled in the town, right? Even with everything that’s happened lately? How long would you say you’ve been here?” He focused on an area right over his guest’s shoulder. He could see the thin outline that began the aura read and tried to focus more to expand it. “I’m still feeling pretty new myself.”

         “I’ve already had my aura read by a Seeker ...” Her words were quiet, as if she suspected some kind of foul play from the witch. At least he had stopped by the flower shop and not her home: his new face and the events weeks before would have garnered an immediate shut door in the face. It wasn’t that she was intolerant or hard to come to trust another ... it was that a face that seemed familiar nearly killed her. And another familiar face had come by to read her aura. Even then, she’d have preferred her inept witch brand to read her aura than the owner of the shop Henry worked in.

“I’ve been here nearly as long as the town has existed, so yes I’m settled in.”

[inexcelsior-blog]

themaelstrcm: 

    Seeing that little shrug, the woman only offered a smile that as so clearly fake and yet genuine at the same time. She wouldn’t keep up the conversation if that was what Rose was finished with. It seemed like the polite thing to do. As someone leaned against the bar, asking for a beer, she grabbed it and glanced to the other woman.  "And still, no one will learn. Oh, well. How are ya doin’ otherwise?“

         “Um ... alright, I suppose.” Life moved on after the explosion and subsequent events. The funeral wasn’t the most pleasant of things but if was how Sage’s parents chose to cope with their loss. It didn’t stop that there were missing people, or that more were likely to disappear. Rose was a worrier, from worrying at her lip with her teeth to worrying about what was happening around them. “And you?”

[inexcelsior-blog]

bishopashbourne: 

“YEAH YEAH it’s a regular gas.” Thankfully he had missed the chaos but the town was rumbling about it more than they weren’t. Bishop supposed he could see the liveliness the woman pointed out. More often than not it was in a bar. “People need to be happy. I say let them.”

         Her lips pressed into a thin line. There was something about his blase attitude that didn’t settle quite right in her stomach but Rose, of course, was not one to pipe up and mention it. Instead she kept her gaze on him from the corner of her eye ( because she wasn’t one to look head-on ) and nodded. “Until something else happens, sure.”

[xxhorace]

Olivia Wilde

[inexcelsior-blog]

sebastianreininger:

          “That was sarcasm right? The streets feel bitter, like they were wrong about something and now they’re dealing in the aftermath of their faults.” He smiled at her softly, too tired to show any teeth as he normally did anytime he ran into her. Too tired, despite all the sleep he had, and all the energy he had prior to that. But he couldn’t complain about his health– only be grateful for it and Clarity’s. “I didn’t know you worked here. To be honest, I didn’t know this place had a flower shop. Just those wilting bouquets at the grocery market.”

         “Partially, I suppose.” Her eyes found the baker, whose face she usually caught from behind his glass counters and with too-wide a grin placed firmly upon it. Even now it seemed like there was a ghost of an effort. At his statement she nodded, shifting her attention to the flowers. “The proprietor of the business has been away with personal matters. I’ve been tending to it in her stead. But we’ve been here for as long as Echo has, I believe.”

[inexcelsior-blog]

themaelstrcm:

     Leaning against the bar, she looked up and down the row of people who were talking and enjoying their drinks while the curfew was going on. A brow arched slightly when she looked back to Rose. There was a nonchalant shrug offered to her.  “Ain’t gonna do much use now. No one will ever be happy for what they’re given, no matter how good it is for them. That’s human nature, yanno?”

         “And now they’ll say nobody is doing enough to help them, all the while they don’t help themselves.” Her own shrug was small, as if she was becoming disinterested in the topic. In truth she was disinterested in the people involved in the topic. Half of the citizens of Echo, she was learning, were quite selfish. It went against her personal beliefs, those of which she kept entirely to herself. “Until something else happens. And then there will be more chaos.”

[inexcelsior-blog]

persephonebixby:

“Fearing something just warrants it more power. And in the end that allows them to win.” Brow furrowing, she gave her head a shake, hand raising to signal toward the closest bartender. “It might not have been a clean win - but it was still a win in my books. So everyone can go around and mope but then you’re just associating bad memories with the dead. It was tragic, but they came here for a reason. Fearing something that might happen again is giving up and that is a disgrace to their memories.”

         “There are still seven people missing. And we’ve had a funeral for a little girl. I’d say they got their point across.” Rose’s murmur was more exhaled sigh than anything. The florist shook her head, turning her gaze downward to her fingers. “You can be positive if you’d like. But I’m not interested in letting my guard down again. My pair almost died. I almost died. A false sense of victory isn’t going to make me believe that nothing horrible happened.”

[inexcelsior-blog]

themaelstrcm: 

    Turning the drink to Rose, she looked up at her face and made a quick smacking noise with her lips. Rude. The noise, not Rose. Tori couldn’t help it. She was stuck at work with this cast on her arm and unable to really do much. Though she started to learn how to get drinks with one hand. Beers were still a challenge, so she stuck to bottles and popped a bottle opener on the wall so she could just pop and go.  “Like kids in a toy store. Let ‘em loose and watch them run around in glee.”

         Her nod was small but sure, followed with the smallest sip of her draught and the following bitterness of the beer. She wasn’t much of a drinker but there were a few occasions that called for it. Even Rose needed a break from reality and it wasn’t as if she intended on drinking herself stupid. “Everyone’s so focused on there not being a curfew. They weren’t appreciative of the police force attempting to protect them, though it didn’t do much in the end. Nobody appreciated the effort. They just whined.”

[inexcelsior-blog]

persephonebixby: 

Her eyebrow arched slightly at the remark, but Persephone made no comment herself. She was still new to the area and anything before the mass chaos she’d entered into was… entirely unfamiliar. “Well… it only seems fitting to celebrate, no?” Celebrate the end of terror or her newfound freedom in the town, she wasn’t sure.

         “There’s nothing to celebrate.” Rose’s remark was quiet, her lips pressing into a thin line. Celebrating meant there was something worth being excited over. Their town had been breached, people had been injured, people died. She could still taste the blood at the back of her throat when there was no other flavor occupying her tongue. “Everyone is afraid, they just don’t want to admit it. And we should be. How easy it was just to walk in and cause chaos ...”

[inexcelsior-blog]

im-og-en: 

Imogen looked up at Rosaleigh from the book she had been reading, an in-depth encyclopedia on herbs and their various uses, and gave a small nod. “I guess…” her eyes cast around the coffee shop in which they were tucked into a quiet corner, she enjoyed the other womans company because she was quite introverted like Imogen herself, and didn’t feel the need to fill the time with useless conversation. Merely content to sit in each others presence and occasionally share the odd remark. “It seems a little forced, though” she added, eyes locking on a woman who’s laugh was a little too loud for her liking.

         “Nobody wants to admit they’re still afraid. They don’t feel safe.” Her own eyes shifted toward the laughing woman, something akin to a dirty glare shooting off toward her before it dissipated entirely. She didn’t regularly haunt the coffee shop, especially not since what happened at least, but she owed it to herself to be somewhere other than work or home. Somewhere other than a garden. “So they cover it.”

[silken-floss]

olivia wilde in love the coopers