I wanted to colour this but I like it enough to post the sketch
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I wanted to colour this but I like it enough to post the sketch
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This fic is much more along the lines of what I usually write, fiction-wise: introspective, fraught, and pretty depressing. The mystery of Rose's mother has niggled at me since I finished Act 2 sometime back in April, and what little canon after that has filled in about her past has only raised more questions. What kind of life could she have had to come to be, as an adult, a brilliant scientist who is also a functional alcoholic? Why would she maintain a bedroom in the bottom of a laboratory filled with childish trappings? What was it like to know that the world was going to end and there was nothing she could do to stop it? How would she relate to her daughter? For whatever reason, I haven't found anything that examines Ms. Lalonde at any closer than arm's length. It's a damned shame, and I hope this begins to fill the gap.