[Propo] What happened to your daughter, Rose?
She looks haggard. Dark bags under her eyes. Her hair both dull and messy as it was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She hasn't slept in days, not for more than half an hour at a time, always yanked from her fitful sleep by the resounding sound of a gunshot echoing, by Annie's screams, by the image of blood. It haunts her, even as she stands in the room, in front of the camera. She'd shrugged those off who'd tried to do something to mask the bags under her eyes, or to brush her hair. She didn't want to be here. What was the use anymore?
Her want to get away, to run off and hide under blankets, behind a closed door, in the strong hold of Tiberius is only amplified when the person behind the camera's voice reaches her ears. She stares at the camera, the little blinking read light just above the camera and she blinks. Her eyes sting and she blinks again, looks away from the camera, clenches her eyes shut, makes to turn to leave, to run away. Fight or flight taking over.
There's so much she needs to do. She needs to get her daughter. Make arrangements. She needs to lay her daughter to rest, send her out to the same ocean she'd been washed in before Rose had even known home. She needed to do so much... but she's greeted by the hard greyness of the world she's run too and is thrown back to reality. There is no escape. There will be no cremation. No ceremony. Would Rosmarinus ever know peace, or would her soul be tortured forevermore? There'd been a time when she'd found her father's beliefs silly, joked around with Nixie about the ghosts in the sea, goofed off. But, she'd found comfort in those same rituals when their father had passed a handful of years before. And now, now she yearned for the familiarity of it all when everything now was so strange and her heart ached and cried out within her chest for her daughter.
Natalia feels the tears falling down her cheeks before she finally finds her voice. "They killed her." Her voice is little more than a whisper as she speaks flatly. She closes her eyes again against the sting of salty tears. "It's my fault," Tiberius has shut her down so many times over the last several days, but he isn't here now to negate the thoughts that haunted her every waking moment. "I dared to dream of a world where we didn't murder children for fun." Her eyes are still closed. She's picking at the cuticle of her right hand, an anxious habit that'd resulted in the area being red and bloody in recent days. She doesn't want to confront reality, wants to get lost in her own mind, to float away. But she can't. No she's struck here with the guilt eating away at her.
"I dared to share those thoughts in privacy," but now she knew that not even the private residence of those Snow supposedly trusted were truly private, "and for that transgression Snow had her ki-." Her voice cracks and she stops, hands moving to press palms into her eyes, wiping tears away and rubbing up to her forehead. "He killed her." She chokes out. She needs to leave, to get out of here, away from this camera, away from being forced to relive that moment over again and again behind closed lids. She doesn't ask or hesitate this time as she turns away from the camera and leaves. She doesn't care to stop, doesn't care if she makes Coin or anyone else mad for leaving abruptly. She didn't want to be there anyway and that fact had only been amplified when they'd asked about her daughter.
