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Isnt making a graphic for a random plot that just started and is already giving me insane feels.

Nope.

#misformadness #pinkmanrps #muse: rosette #muse: rosettexclaude #brotp: put that dirt back on your face

counting scars -- their first meeting

My Dearest Rosette,

The moments we have been apart seem endless. The pain of our distance is only beaten by the realization that I have left you all alone to a world that you do not know. My dearest sister, I beg your forgiveness for this decision and I know - somehow - you will find it in your heart to love me still... as you always have. I merely hope that I come home to you again, to our life and to find you someplace better, better than the place that you were left and the situations we were forced to be raised in. I miss you, with all the pieces of my heart and I hope to see you again. I know you will likely not be able to write back to me as I do not know where I am supposed to be going but, know that I will write to you again as soon as I am able. I love you little one, forever.

Russell.

Rose clutched the worn letter to her heart once again, eyes closed and breathing slow and steady. She had missed her brother the instant he had left and found no solace in his departure. Now, she was here, battling the very dangers that he had -- for answers. Where was he? Why had no one attempted to look for him? Why was there no information on his whereabouts? Was he even alive? The very prospect of his death did nothing but make Rose feel like she was about to crack, body aching with a mixture of fatigue and sorrow. No. She would not let him down, she would not lose herself and she would not lose him. He was all she had.

The sound of radio static caught her attention as she lay on the cool ground; eyes jolting open and body sitting upright, Rose turned around and looked for the radio. It was in the distance, a few 'palettes' over. Someone was listening in to anything and everything, even the static was better than the sounds of war. Even dead air was better than the sounds of bombs and air raids. Anything warded off the winter chill, anything made you feel like you weren't on frozen ground in God knows where Europe. Anything.

"Oi! JACOBS! Wake yer sorry arse up and get ova'ere!" The sound of her platoon leader jolted her attention, Rose, or well... Ross Jacobs, was being hailed. Quickly, she stood to attention, grabbing the letter and shoving it in her pocket. "Quit readin' the smut from ya girl and come with me. Yer bein' transferred." Rose raised her brow, clearing her throat slightly to lower the octave of her voice; she was a man after all. "Where'm I headed?" She asked, turning around to grab her blankets and pack, since she figured she wasn't gonna get much time to do so within the next couple of minutes. "We're headed over to Corporal Kiser's platoon. He lost some men and we've got enough to give him some spares. You're one of'em."

Following after her leader, or soon to be former - she supposed, Rose looked around at the other people, the men she had worked with for the past couple of months; all good men that she would undoubtedly risk her life for. Would it be the same with this new man? This new group? Was there any hope that the men she was about to be stationed with knew anything at all about her brother? It was unlikely but, perhaps... they may know something. One could only hope,

Together, they trudged through the frozen marsh land and across a random field to the area where Rose apparently would be occupying from now on. Her leader turned to her and motioned her attention forward, instead of around as it had been. "This ere's your new Platoon Leader. You listen to him like ya listened to me and you'll do fine Jacobs." To this comment, she saluted him and he nodded her on, ushering her toward the stranger before speaking to him briefly and heading off back where he came from.

Now, it was only her, her and this man whom she had never met. He would lead her and she would obey, as she had be trained (though most of the training came from home and not the military. After all, WWII didn't offer much time for training.) Saluting to him now, she cleared her throat once more and lowered her voice a bit. "Private First Class Ross Jacobs, reporting for duty, SIR." She kept her hand up and awaited permission to remove it and any following orders that her Corporal asked of her."

#pinkmanrps #interaction1

When your inbox is filled with all caps writing about a plot you basically made out of two sentences and it becomes a bit of an obsession. >.>

#misformadness #pinkmanrps