#(:starter:)

[hereliesbitches--me]

Soft Intimacy starter (STILL OPEN)

@floralcalavera​

Alolan heat during the summer was relentless and well known to the locals. Not even the shade of the Moon and night could relieve it by much more than a few degrees. It  made no difference in the face of humid tropical air of the island.. deeper in the forests, the sea breeze could not send its reprieve. 

     Those nights, Rosie restlessly turned within their pile. The hollow carved into the massive trunk of a tree provided sanctuary from the wild pokemon around them, but it did not solve the issue of the heat. It was a small breeze swirling down from the open canopy above that shook her to at last sit up in her sweat. She sucked in a sharp, irritable breath , savoring the momentary coolness til it was quickly evaporated by the pile of furry bodies coiled together. Her tongue was dry and lapped at the inside of her cheek in hopes of moisture, to no avail. The moss and grass below her rubbed uncomfortably against her skin before she found the strength to roll away from the overwhelming heat and breathe. Pangoro lay at the center of the hollow, half raised against the arcanine acting as the perch that supports his weight. Jericho curled in a half moon around the bear, then atop his head sat a crooning honchkrow settled soundly between the dog’s tall ears. Laying on the bear’s furry belly was her kitten, his tail curled between his legs and curled into his fist while he nestled into the comfort of white fur. His wild orange curls hid most of his face in the shadows of the hollow, but in the light of the shifting moon the mother can see the smooth peace on his features. 

It makes her smile , the heat momentarily forgotten.  Rosie scrubbed the sweat from her face, cautious to keep light on her toes as she stood and crawled to gently reach for her cub. None of the pokemon stirred while her hands ran through the soft curls, her son unconsciously leaned into her hand with a series of purrs, soon to fade just as sleep took him right back. The swiftness stirred a tickling sensation in her throat.. But she couldn't laugh. Not without waking the masses and starting a lecture . In her mind, there was only one place that crossed her thoughts to escape the heat.. Someplace away from the heat of her pokemon, closer to the open path that the wind could reach and offer a kinder space to sleep. Her cub would be safer no place other than where he was now… and he was far more fortunate in his bloodline to handle the heat better than she. Rosie planted a gentle kiss to his chubby cheek, then slowly retreated from the hollow into the forest. 

“ Can’t Sleep? ”  

The meowth only made it a few steps out before her pulse lept in her veins. 

Shit. she hadn’t counted the numbers in the pile.

Sitting in a pocket of moonlight atop a boulder, the Absol’s eyes glowed like red jewels in the darkness, gazing pointedly at the sneaking woman. Artemus made no motion to move from his perch beyond the shifting of his claws that scraped against the stone. Rosie’s tail bristled, then twitched anxiously as she straightened to face him. She offered him a half hearted smile,  “ I could ask you the same thing, Artemus.. You’re not exactly sleeping with the pile…” 

“ It's my turn to keep watch.But I know you don't intend to just walk around to get tired.”  The old pokemon stood then leapt down soundlessly on the grass to approach her. Rosie felt her cheeks redden with something she couldn't easily excuse for the heat as she stepped back.  Artemus watched her tail carefully as she laughed, “ I just need to catch the wind a little bit, old man. I’d be back before anyone knows I'm gone. I’d be back before Thursday even wakes up.” 

Artemus circled her body, his fur brushing her thigh before he stopped and met her eye evenly. The same intensity as her father’s eyes, able to see through her lies before she even opened her mouth. 

“ If you are seeing that human boy, you should know better than to lie about it. Especially to me.” 

He even spoke as her father once did, like a ghost reprimanding his sheltered secret from the outside world. It winded her ;  Her mouth opened, unable to find the proper reply until she gave in. Her shoulders fall flat, “ Alright, you caught me.. I just can't sleep here. It's too hot… just, for a little while, okay? ” His stare began to make her fidget, “ Don’t look at me like that..”

“ You become more like them every time you see him. '' Artemus turned away, back to his perch under the stars where he oversaw the clearing in the distance. He spared Rosie his piercing glare , where she stood in place with ice in her veins. Rosie waited minutes for another lashing.. Another lecture to bring her down and scare her to stay. But that never came. When he did speak, his voice came passively. Distant, to the stars,  as his face turned up to catch a small breeze, 

“ Just be careful out there. We can’t save you if you’re far away..  We don’t want anything to ever happen again.” 

Again. The notion shoots through her veins like poison and pools in her twisting gut. Muscle memory torments her with phantom pain rising in her arms and neck, so much so that she shudders in silent terror.

 No , she can’t let fear get the better of her.. Not now.  He doesn't know what he’s talking about. Guzma is nothing like them. He’s not like normal humans. 

He was safe. 

Ignoring the trembling in her hands and the weakness trickling into her thighs, Rosie offered her companion no reply. She turned,  a haunted look in her eye, and darted through the darkness.

---

Fear lingered in the forefront of her mind with every step towards the human roads. Artemus was like her father and meant well, unaware (or, perhaps, keenly aware) of how harsh his warnings could be.  The venomous reminder of her torture ailed her limbs as she ran, threatening to collapse her at any moment ; she pushed harder, ran faster on bare feet up the abandoned trail towards poe town, a good hour walk from her den if not for her feline ability to run. Despite her small soft build, she was deceptively fast with inner power surging beneath the skin and muscle.  

I'm not like them. I'm not  

Rosie swore to herself as the dark crest of the shady house stood out against the starlit Alolan sky, her breathing began to struggle with fatigue. She wouldn’t slow. Not until she made it in.  A blurry figure in the dark, a few grunts lay passed out along the bushes and stone path and take no notice of the sudden wind gust as she streaked past.

Guzma is different.    He wouldn’t hurt us.          He wouldn’t hurt me.  He’s too kind. 

 She knows the layout of the building like the back of her hand. The pokemon slinks around the bushes and avoids the light of the few windows who remain awake, undoubtedly skullian party goers who suffered the same insomnia but dealt with it differently. Would Guzma be among them? She wondered, but prayed otherwise. She just wanted him, no one else.. 

It only takes her another 2 minutes before she finds the ledge. The window never locked, the lights out, her ears attentively perked to catch any sound. Nothing but a soft snoring. 

Rosie stepped back, then took a running start and leaped. She cleared well over 15 feet as her body rolled across the first rooftop, then a second skip landed her onto the window ledge of her desire. Soundlessly, without looking, she opens the window and slips through the glass. 

  Guzma lays there peacefully… the fatigue of the run, as if realizing the exact place she had arrived, suddenly sank in.  She felt heavy and weak, again her legs hobbling with the threat to buckle at any given moment. It almost makes her want to laugh at how strong her body could be, only to collapse after it served its purpose. Her bare feet shuffled along the dirty floor til at last she collapsed into the soft mattress of the skull king himself.

The smell of humans was nothing like the natural earthy scents of the forest.. They held a musty, comforting quality despite the sort of stuffy quality it had in surrounding the senses. It was one of the things Rosie loved about Guzma.. Her body moved instinctively towards his warmth. The room was significantly cooler than her hollow, Rosie’s arms laid across his chest while another leg draped across his hip in a comfortable feline stretch.  She made her home nestled in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply as a warmth bled into her heart. 

His presence alone diminished the weakness that fear had pushed into her veins, her body heavy now as it recovers from the run. The cat can't quite help the way she feels the need to trace her nose along the tough skin, his pulse ticking and ringing in her ears rousing a thrill. Her tongue absently flicked over her sharp teeth out of habit.

“ I'm sorry, Guzma..I couldn’t sleep.” Hushed, she murmurs against his skin. Her second hand itched and found its place stroking through his white hair. He makes her heavy.. Makes her feel things she shouldn't feel for humans. They destroy everything they touch.. They’re greedy and cruel… but why did he have to be so different. 

Despite the fatigue, her golden eyes stare off towards the wall half lidded, whispering whether she knew he would reply to her or not. Her warm breath brushes against his throat,

“ I just ... really wanted to see you..”

[hereliesbitches--me]

" Im going to go ahead and scope the town ahead. You guys stay here for now until I know what we're dealing with. " 

     On her way out the door, jacket pulled over her shoulder, Rosie paused when she felt the burn of suspicious eyes at her back. She knew exactly what was coming next as she bit the inside of her cheek and faced the two youngsters that glared irritable, " How come you get all the fun? We're capable adults, We should be able to go out too!" Ashley stomped her heeled boot against the wood floor and folded her arms, a display that could only emphasize the answer which they all knew. Jay stood on the staircase, equally persistent in nagging their leader, though only with his pout. Rosie pulled the hood over her head and gazed between them evenly, " You know why. This is new territory, and you stand out like sore thumbs in a small town like this.” “ And you don’t, Miss Hello Kitty? ” Ashley raised her perfectly sculpted brow in retaliation. Rosie scowled, but did not feed into that despised nickname as she turned away, “ I know what i’m doing. That's all there is to it. Jacob is boss while i'm gone.”

Last thing she heard before the door shut behind her was the groans of despair as the heavy footsteps of their designated warden came out of the kitchen, no doubt grinning with the milk carton in his hand at the youngsters he would push around for the night. Rosie would probably ask about it later, if she managed to make it back sober.

     She’s been sober for so long now, broken the habit long ago. But passing months of grief have called back that nasty habit, her throat itching for that self destructive burn to dull the mind of all the pressure built. Away from the kids, away from prying eyes, she can allow herself to be someone else for a little while, under the excuse it's for a mission. No one needed to know. This place was a quaint little town, not much different from the place she once lived in further north. Full of hills, expanses of woodlands freshen the air with a quality she often forgot could exist since moving to the overcrowded big city. It's one of those travel towns, quiet save for the foot traffic of passers that stop for a night before moving on, the perfect place to start looking for their runaway when one could perfectly blend in with the sea of new faces coming in and out. In the worn out truck they were leant, Rosie leisurely cruised the town and marked out on a map every suggested point given within the casefile sitting in a manilla folder on the passenger side, til x marks the spot at the very end of her adventure. A perfect bar at the edge of town, where few cars parked tell her exactly what she wants to know. The scene is set at 9pm on a Wednesday night, the truck no more memorable than any other vehicle in the lineup as the little cat works her way into the night. Her files safely tucked away in the glove compartment, a skully pulled over her head to hide her ears, without those odd features, she was just like any other woman coming into a bar to forget. Given the country, she figures her hanging tail can be acquitted to a hunted creature she now wears as a pride. That was common in the south, wasn't it? And the point of coming around was blending in (Or so she likes to tell herself ). She slips in and already the motions feel like she’s reliving a dream ; something deep below the surface stirs and begins to alter her presentation. Not the confident Sphinx that fights monsters the size of buildings, but a more reserved, meek kind of woman. Its a push and a pull, spinning a web of lies that will be her fabricated life story to share with anyone willing to listen tonight. Wordlessly, Rosie takes her seat within a corner, nestled comfortably in the shadows where very few occupied -- save for another man just as bundled up as much as she was. In her mind a familiar habit clicks in place, the predatory instinct that hones in on the target and begins the invisible pull at the corner of her lips. The gears shift to set her into her role, relaxing with the rhythmic tapping of claws on the countertop, she feigns interest in the room ; what's playing on the TV, the conversation of the men around the pool table, the bartender, the menu… then her eyes drifted back to him. The point of interest for the night. Good to make friends with locals for points of reference, so she works the nerve and gears to string together the perfect opener. Lightening her expression, she smoothed the harsh edges of her features, lips pulling to the side, her drooping eyes seemed lifted as she found her voice and tapped her knuckle against the wood for attention,

“ You look like you had a rough day. Even worse for wear than me,” Warm, friendly affection laces her chuckle, “ Looks like you already have one, but How’s about the next drink is on me? I hear that's how you make friends in places like these.” Body language is key to setting down the bait, Rosie leans up on her elbows, her palm folding under her cheek in rests, those honey eyes seemed glowed around the rim in the dimness of the room,

“ Care to tell me about it? ”

|| Starter for @victimplagued​ ||

[hereliesbitches--me]

@ribbedxgloves​

Lonely is the woman who lives her life like the sea Ever moving, Ever changing. Vast and grand, but never truly understood. Never settled, never belonging, but merely existing. Its this kinship to the ocean that draws the Moon farther from the people and closer to the place that reminds her most of home. As lonely and silent as it always was. Her cage and her prison were once the only place she could call home, even if Freedom tasted better; Truth be told, she craved the security of that place long gone.

Just how long had it been? How many years since Elysium was abandoned to her beasts? Did Father miss her?    Did he resent her for following the foolish sun to Earth? 

Did anyone miss her anymore?     Did they care she was gone?

These swimming thoughts that swarm her mind like the pushing tide plagued her in the day just as often as it did the night. Inadequacy, doubt, longing, and loneliness all wrapped up to embody her feeble little form. The skin she wore could tell a thousand stories, but never would it tell the truth of the Moon. The day was just too loud.. But the night by the seaside was what she needed to soothe those aching wounds. In the dead of night, Rosie often crept out barefooted from her little cottage to take refuge at the end of the pier once the moon hung high in the sky. At this hour, with no fisherman or families clogging the beach, she could sit quietly and bask in the lull of the ocean. To calmer thoughts of a time far better than this, when her kids would sit besides her and counted the stars. In her palm, her fingers clutch tighter to the neck of an empty glass bottle with a constricting pang in her chest. A yellowed piece of parchment lay rolled up tightly in her other hand.

“....You remember.. Right Mia? You have to look for a good place to throw it,     or it’ll never reach out to sea…”

The cool air broke with the croak of her voice, low and remorseful as the women glanced to either side of her, waiting for a response from no one who sat there. In her mind's eye, no matter how many years passed without them, the mother could always see the bright faces of her life smiling back. Mia, ever confident, Thursday uncertain, while Malakaid always wore his confusion plainly as he watched this bizarre custom. The better halves of herself existed only in them, and she lived solely for their memory to this day. In hope time will bring them back,  or at least bring her joy again 

“... Just.. make your wish..”   Get moving before you start to cry again. With a sharp intake of breath, her feet kick the water below. Rosie wills her hand to move delicately, popping the cork out between her teeth, shuffling the rolled parchment inside, then capping it tightly once again.  Under the moonlight, the bottle shimmered off the reflection of the sea. The little cat raised it at level to her eyes, inspecting thoroughly before she turned her eyes to the Sea. Look for the swell… where the tide will pull it out.  In the darkness of midnight, her eyes glowed with focus upon skimming the horizon. In her bones, in her soul she can feel every little soul and the life that swells in the water. It's through them you could find the tide. In them, she trusted. In a particular spot, she finds a swell of life flowing just a few meters out. She finds the will to smile,  “ There we are. Thank you little ones..” She can throw her bottle and sleep heavy for the rest of the night right on the dock. Raising her arm, the muscles flexed in her bicep as her eyes measure and splinter the strength she knows she needs. Breath slow, controlled breaths.. Aim, just like shooting a gun. For a brief moment its like tunnel vision of thought that blurs out all else but the target.    Steady.. Steady.. Rosie can practically hear Mia vibrating in the back of her mind, the tiny Angel pouring energy into her thin limbs, tongue out and ready to throw--

Then there came the odd sloshing sound from her right. The charge she felt was not her mind playing tricks. Something has surfaced.

Whipping sideways, Rosie’s arm fell and clutched the bottle to her chest as her eyes fell towards the rocky shoreline. Though her eyes were good, Distance had never been a particularly kind friend to her sights. What she can make out is the blurry, dull shaped of boulders licked by the crashing surf -- nothing unordinary. Nothing astonishing, and yet there is that unnatural blip that's tingling in her skin. Where eyes fail, her ears stand tall and twist towards the site, pivoting upon her heels to take cautious steps towards it. For now, the bottle serves as an anchor of comfort and security held to her stomach. Her tail bristles and sways in the breeze behind her, trekking along the edge of the dock to gaze into blackened water. Had it been her mind playing tricks again?

“... Hello down there? Anyone home?”

[hereliesbitches--me]

Starter Call (Still open!!)

@thewhitepoison

It'll get easier.         The wolf told himself. It'll get, as the seconds turn to minutes. Minutes to hours. Hours to days. Days to years. With the passing of time, feelings will fade, and he will feel at home again.

     But Earth was so damn different from Atrolize, it was a wonder he could get out of bed every morning and head out into the noisy world for work in the evening.  When Rick woke, bitterness was the first to set in as the comforts of dreams so quickly slipped from him, to leave behind a broken up , lonesome man in a cold bed far too small for his hulking body. As routine, he laid there for a good while and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling, taking in the unnatural silence and comparing it to every reason why it was not like the barracks he’d grown up in, til the alarm at the bedside blared annoyingly too late to scold him out of his comfort. Even that annoying little clock had nothing compared to the sirens that wailed to wake up the teams for training. Heaving a heavy sigh, a soldier no more wiped a hand down his face and rolled out to the bathroom finally.

    Every morning he was explicitly reminded just how small the average human was, when he hit his head in the doorway like he did every time in the damn doorway he failed to duck through out of habit ; By now, it was nothing more than a dull irritable pain that went away after a gruff growl and a stern rubbing. He used the bathroom, stared at his face in the mirror for a while, to meet the eyes of a strange man he did not recognize much these days. A massive, pawlike hand rose lazily, brushing through disheveled locks to smooth it out of his eyes just enough to really get a look at himself. That hair bounced right back when no hand tamed it. Rick scratched at his jaw and hummed thoughtfully with the mind to shave the growing beard he was not used to being present so thickly, however the calloused fingers grew distracted by the deep scarring that marred the rugged features along his jaw, cheeks, and nose. Absently, he traced them individually, in a way no one had ever dared to touch. Not that anyone cared to try -- for their superior was no kind dog when it came to stranger hands reaching towards him. Last thing anyone wanted was to be bitten, jabbed, or subjugated to the worst of cleaning duties instead of training and sparring. The deep blue eyes, hollowed and distant in their socket, drifted down to the scarred body unused to the lack of weight this planet provided, and the strange sensation brought about in knowing he would never need to pack on his armor again. These days, and for the rest of his life, that comfortable metal skin would lay away in the back of a closet where no one would ever find it (for his own safety and theirs. )

“ You keep looking at yourself, you’re gonna get lost in the mirror. Just shave and get out..”  He broke the silence with his own voice and winced at the empty echo of the bathroom. Nonetheless, he took his own advice. Shaved, fixed himself up to something more presentable, even if  everything fit tightly and seemed to threaten tearing if he moved the wrong way      Definitely need to look into custom made stuff.. Like all things, having money for that would take time. A soldier will make do with what he has, because god knows Rick was gonna live for a very long time by Earth standards..

    Before anybody knew it, late afternoon rolled by into evening, and the trek to work would set him at about closing time once he arrived. At least if he timed it right. Another deep sigh of exhaustion left his throat as he tied his boots and shrugged on a heavy coat. A cold evening was promised tonight, judging by the frosted window panes. On his way out, Rick paused in the open doorway and stared around his empty apartment. A sound had whisked by his ear so faintly, he could have sworn it was a whisper.        What did it say….?    Why the hell was he even asking about what the wind said? Rick’s face tightened suspiciously… his ears standing forward, tail hanging low with focus. Despite his doubt, his voice acted before his brain did, “ Hello? Anybody in here..? ”

He waited. He waited for a good few minutes. Nothing. Truth be told, Rick wasn’t sure why it disappointed him. He wasn’t waiting for anyone, as far as he knew. But now he was running late. Uttering a mild curse, keys jingling in hand, he shut the door roughly and took long strides equivalent to the average person’s sprint to get downstairs and out into the streets. Once a soldier, always a soldier. Being tardy would never be acceptable, even as a standard solely held by himself.

   Rick got to work exactly 5 minutes late, as expected. No one really cared except for the guy he was relieving, but the reaction wasn’t much. No one dared to hassle or pick a fight with a muscular dog man that edged nearly eight feet tall, and as much as his height on Earth was a curse, he was grateful at times like this. The mall closed earlier than usual, not that he knew or cared why, because it was all the same when your job was to watch for trouble all night. “ Hey, uh, Guard Dog... ” his coworker called him, undoubtedly forgetting Rick’s name in the same way Rick often forgot his. Rick looked up from the phone he was fumbling with and simply raised a brow. The other guard pointed towards one of the monitors within their wall of screens. He tapped a baton lightly at a figure,  “ Looks like we got a guest that didn’t get the memo.” Pursing his lips, Rick set the phone down and sat up straighter,  “ They can read the sign or take the hint why there aren't many cars in the parking lot.” He turned his eyes back to the phone, a sizable device that ran small for his own hand, and poked around the screen again to pass the time. For a minute silence lingered, the coworker watching the monitor intently and otherwise ignored, til he chuckled. The sound made Rick look up with a slight scowl of confusion, “ What’s so funny?” “ It's a really cute girl that's outside, and now she’s pulling at the door. Look at her! She’s wrapped up like a little bunny out there in the cold,”  the guard, perhaps his name was peter or something with a p, leaned forward and giggled harder, “ Aw look at her! I don’t think she even realizes there’s a paper on the door- ”  he paused,      “ ah, wait a minute..” “ Let me guess,” Rick rolled his eyes and put his phone away, “ She’s at a door that doesn’t have a sign on it.” Peter looked towards him and blinked, “ How did you know? Where are you going? ” The giant was already on his feet and heading out the door, “ Gonna tell her we’re closed before she hurts herself.” Peter may have called out something, though Rick didn’t care to stop and hear him.

    He really just needed to walk. 

   Take the long way, because walking passed the time. At least this way, when he got there then maybe the girl would have taken the hint and left. If she left, then he could just walk around more with the excuse he went looking for her, and peter in the office wouldn’t think to question him despite having the evidence on camera.      Tragically, life hardly ever worked in his favor. Much to his exasperation, when he turned the corner there was the little woman pulling at the doors and seemingly huffing in frustration. There wasn’t much he could make out of her beneath layers of heavy winter clothing, but he felt bad for her for sitting out in the cold.  Last he checked, it was below ten degrees out there, and it didn’t look like she was wearing any kind of gloves. Odd… but this was New York after all. Humans here were sturdy bastards. Slowing his pace, Rick stopped upon the door and stared at her through the glass warily. Key senses in the military saves your life, just like it could in civilian situations when dealing with a violent, unpredictable species. Keen eyes peered her over closely now for anything out of place.. A knife, a gun, pepper spray as the women here like to use. Anything that would warrant that he would not open the door or that her intentions were malicious.

In the end, all he found was a cold girl staring back at him peculiarly with warm brown eyes.. His nostrils flared with a quick breath, then he gently pushed open the door just enough to step out and regard her,

“ In case you didn’t notice by the locked doors or the empty parking lot, Miss.. The mall closed early today.”

He spoke flatly, words coupled with a breath of fog in the frigid air,   “ No amount of fighting this door is gonna make it open.”

[hereliesbitches--me]

 Though I walk through the Valley of Death, I shall fear no evil.      For the lord is my Shepard.

     Drifting mindlessly, fearlessly through the gates of Hell,  the prayers of mortal man echo silently through the back of her mind. She is an outlier of blue among the sea of dreary, suffering souls that march like cattle to their final place of torment. Against the dark, blistering landscape that demons call home, the soft source of light in a place where heaven’s light could never reach draws the eyes of demons from their perches as the herders of the damned. 

     Perhaps they smell the blood on her hands, or the hollowness that lingers in the womb. They’re VULTURES, eager to dine on the misery of mortal man’s soul. They know better than to touch the light. If they did, perhaps she would infect them with her sorrows. The Moon knows to keep her eyes forward, to walk wordlessly into the depths of Hell in search of a MONSTER chained at its center. She had led the dead here countless of times, but never had she gone further than the gate. For the first time she takes fate into her own hands, and she moved forward with the mindto brace for the worst. It had to be done.  She was too soft. Too inexperienced to make a difference ; It was a hefty price she paid for it all. Too easily was she swallowed by the sea of foreign emotion, and in the waves she had done damage far too severe to be undone. The nameless Moon could not return to see those faces -- of the living, nor the dead. It all hurt too much... In her palms, the silver staff glows brightly in warning to the farry man and the gargoyles that leer above.

       It was the servant she needed to meet. The spineless serpent of a goat, Azazel. She was half certain he was already following her to report back to the shackled king himself. Alas, she thought of the little demon, and from the corner of her eye he came. The light specter leaps in a blurring beam of blue -- a predator upon the meekest prey -- cornering the Devil’s servant with the threat of her guarding staff. “ Be still, ” she spoke harshly despite her soft voice, her open hand reaching quickly upon the demon’s head. “ Hush now, please...”

Despite her position, her features expressed troubled desperation in her twinkling eyes. She dare fall so low, she came to the DEVIL for help.

“ Please, Azazel.. I need you to take me to Lucifer..”

@fcllenstcr

[hereliesbitches--me]

@quantahope liked for  a starter!

She checked the file again.   Once, twice. Three times to be sure.

To be certain of every detail. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.  Mistakes cause accidents. Accidents caused lives. And she couldn’t afford to lose another.        It occurred to Rosie that she hadn’t checked twice the last time.              Perhaps if she had been more attentive, Rocky would still be alive.

She made a face at the thought. her lips pulling into a bitter frown as she stared at the compiled papers in her hands.    ‘ Ya makin’ dat face again, cat.’ Rosie didn’t have to look up to recognize the voice -- the accent -- nor did she want to; It wasn't real.                     He wasnt real.     ‘ Ya face gon’ get stuck like dat. don’ worry so much.’ His accent was a sound she took comfort in, once upon a time. It was home... blissful assurance of his presence. No more. Now it sends a cold chill down her spine, coiling dread in her gut like a heavy weight in her body. Instead, she focused her eyes on the papers in hand, narrowing upon the fine print til she drowned out all else. Anything that curved the urge to look at the murky cadaver that smiled next to her. Rosie occupied herself by tracing the printed words on the page, memorizing maps and directions until it became engraved into her brain. Her hands felt clammy, her cheeks growing hot despite the cool air that circulated about the jet cabin. It was only she and the Angels. They were real.         Her love had died months ago. And there was no changing that. Her grip tightened and crinkled the papers in her hold.   “Hey, Rosie, you okay?”     Amy brought her out of her thoughts with a gentle hand on her shoulder. By instinct, Rosie had flinched when she realized the physical sensation resting on her body, but her attention was drawn out nonetheless.  “I’m fine, just thinking.” Rosie answered curtly, with noted defense. She nudged off the hand briskly and took a short, haggard breath.   Things hadn’t been the same since their last mission. She hadn’t come back the same. Months of grieving and guilt, drowning her sorrows in a bottle had put her out of commission. Rosie hardly had enough energy to maintain herself, after everything was poured into holding herself together just enough for her kids. Her anxiety in returning to the project was no secret to her team.       But it was time to grow up,    she told herself bitterly, and willed herself back onto shaky feet.          This isn’t what he would have wanted.    “ Relax a bit. We have a few hours before we land, then you can go robotic leader overdrive. ”   The spy gave Rosie a knowing, sympathetic look, much to Rosie’s own annoyance. But Rosie knew she meant well. Amy gave a pat to her leg and smiled with a warmth in hopes of perhaps soothing their leader, “ Maybe take a nap. You look like you need the beauty sleep.”  To that, Rosie said nothing. She simply looked around the cabin at all her sleeping teammates.  The cadaver was gone. Perhaps she should get some sleep.. Even if she knew the awful things that awaited in her dreams.  She needed the energy.

     By the time they had landed, it was still early in the afternoon. Ironically, compared to the time they left, they were now an hour behind the time it would have been in New York City. Wisconsin was different from the concrete jungle they called home. It was Jacob, Amy, Fei, Lyak, Zoey, and Kasimir that Rosie had picked for this trip. Each bringing their own particular skill sets to the game which Rosie felt would best fit their investigation. Though, Rosie has a hard time imagining why they were needed when the city they were headed to seemed so small. She rather bring her heavy hitters, than be sorry for it later.       This was farming country. Small, close knit towns where everyone knew everyone. The worst things that happened here were drunks, cow tipping, and gun blazing idiots. Maybe aliens. But to need the Angels to come investigate? It was either Ed or the government that saw something to gain. Rosie minded herself to not be so careless about the situation. To underestimate could lead to dire consequences , and she was not ready to pay so heavily again.  They needed to get to their safehouse soon. To unpack and get planning. Rosie looked into her file one last time before the group gathered into the military truck, and then they were off.

   The drive was hardly maybe half an hour. The usual pairs talked, the usual few sat in silence, all while Rosie was left to her thoughts.  When they arrived, they poured out in a uniform line onto the watered green lawn they would call their own for the next few weeks until they solved the case. Rosie stood aside with her dufflebag as she watched the group take their belongings and quickly shuffle into the safe house. It was a nice, sizely two story home, surrounded by lots of crop fields.The nearest neighbors were a few miles away, which promised working in peace.  Their driver left them once all the gear was unloaded. He gave a stoic nod and a tip of his hat to Rosie, to which she nodded back, and then he drove away to leave her once again. For a few minutes she watched the dust cloud form behind the heavy vehicle, til it disappeared into a black speck over a hill. Once gone, she went back into the details of her file report expectantly, then raised her head to scan around her. In search of something that was suppose to be there, but was not. She frowned in a way that scrunched her face, then checked the digital watch on her wrist.     He’s late. Not good. 

    Punctuality was a peeve of hers.  He should have already been here. In her aggravation, Rosie looked to the paper again to see if perhaps her deprived mind had made a mistake,  despite herself. She checked the name, the meet time, and found things were as she planned. Things were not going according to plan.  Again, there came that nagging feeling that ached in her bones. Tilting her head back, she glared angrily into the sky with an angry groan. Setting her stuff down fully and pacing about the grass, she was just about to make a call when something caught her attention.  There came the crunching of gravel in the distance. 

It was an old pickup truck, whose driver she could not make out in the kicked up dust that came from the dirt road they drove on.     That must be him... The ache in her muscles quickly subsided as her body relaxed. Her face smoothed out with sweet relief.     Back on schedule.

Rosie made her way over at a leisure pace, waving her hand through the dust cloud and snorting to keep it out of her nose. She walked around the hood and made some attempt to make out the figure inside the car as she did, waving politely through the haze just as the engine cut off. The door opened, and out emerged a tall man. 

“ I was just about to complain that you were late.   You came just in the nick of time. I’m impressed. ”   Rosie opened the conversation playfully as she came around her meet him, her voice smooth and adjusted for civility and diplomacy. She made her space right up against the car door as the haze of smoke finally passed and drifted with the breeze, at last fully able to get a look at him, she offered her hand. 

   “ Are you our guide, Wendell?          My name is Rosie. ”

[draconicmatriarch]

Coasting through the skies upon kite-like wings, she scanned through the canopy tops. A break in the foliage revealed a doe, gracefully tip-toeing no more as its stilts wobbled and trembled. A weakened prey animal would soon succumb to the elements. With a quick dive, Kia put the herbivore out of its misery with a bite to its soft neck. Dragonfire cooked the pelt off the beast and the red dragoness tucked into the venison, licking her chops. However, after many mouthfuls, a sour taste alerted to something suspicious.

Her limbs were no longer cooperating, and she reeled as she tried to step away. Wings flailed but gained no distance from the ground while the landscape before her melted. Drugged... That was the last thought before the massive amount of tranquilizers brought the dragon queen down. The thick dragon liver began to quickly disperse the toxins within her body, and she roused soon after.

“The hell...?” Her paws were once again burdensome to lift but not due to the laced meat. Manacles inscribed with runes clanked, sealing her draconic might. Outrage at being bound brought the heat to her throat, but no fire could ignite within her maw. Collared like a beast, her pupil swiveled to see the humans that had orchestrated this whole plan.

“Release me at once! How dare you inflict this indignity upon me!”

@yunhuntress