Starter (Like Here!) for @umbradevore
In another part of the world, in another time, she'd be watching the world she knew burn down ; From its ashes would be reborn another facet of herself, fractured personality pieces that struggle to define their individuality made from learned behaviors of people that left her behind.
In another part of the world, Rosita Roselyn dies in that fire, and Rosie Valentine awakens to mark one of the most miserable portions of her early life. Caring for Nikki, with a bloody trail that follows and drips from her lips and teeth, down her limbs and trickles from her fingertips. Blood, she can never seem to wash away, that stains everything she touches, everything she loves.
In another life, she's a feral thing that only ever craved for someone in this world to want her. To Love her. To Protect her. And she would waste a lifetime chasing that dream ; Suffering for it.
Watched as it all slip through her fingers like grains of sand , all that she had worked so hard to preserve gone in a blink.
Her world, her dimension devastated by the grief of a child who never received her justice.
In her final moments of screaming for all that she lost , her powers , with its anguish and mourning, rips her strings and allows her to start again.
Different place, different time.
In hopes, just maybe, she could do things differently. She could make a change.
In this lifetime, in this place, thousands of miles away from her other (if she managed to even live at all in this lifetime), Rosita Roselyn is no longer a figure of significance. She is not the Unbreakable Sphinx. She is not the daughter of Roland Valentine nor the sister of Alexander Hidalgo. Not the mother of Miriam, Caradox, or Malakaid. Nor a wife of any kind. Still trapped in the body of her 30s.
Here , she is simply Rosie.
A Lonesome but maternal figure who lives alone with her large bird and cares for this forgotten neighborhood in the boroughs of New York. Her house from before traded in for a run-down apartment she made cozy for herself. Her life of secrecy traded in for a homely lifestyle of community she had never known before when she had been burdened by responsibility . And she finds that she rather likes this lifestyle more than she had anything else. Including her peculiar neighbor, she never quite got to meet formally.
That evening, the lady Moon shuffles down the coordior of her apartment complex, a warm batch of chocolate chip cookies gently steaming in tupperware in her cradling hands. Rosie had never had a reason to greet this particular neighbor, but that did not mean she had never heard of him. Doctor lucas ; A reputably kind doctor that treated the residence of their little piece to medical care they otherwise could not afford for a meager wage. Sometimes, in exchange for something that no one ever really disclosed. She'd watch men, women, and children alike through her door come in and out of that place, but only now did she have a reason to meet him herself. Upon reaching the door, beneath her shawl, her feline ears shift ever so slightly in their cover, searching for sound beyond the foyer. Evidence of a presence of occupancy from more than just the singular doctor. She shifts the tupperwear to one hand, balancing and supporting it against the crook of her hip, and tentatively knocks with the back of her hand.
" Mr. Lucas, are you busy at the moment?"
