Rose Lalonde (Alpha) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
arosewiththorns) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-06-22 10:11 am
arosewiththorns) wrote in thearena2014-06-22 10:11 am
Entry tags:
And we're slipping off the course that we prepared [OPEN]
Who; Rose Lalonde, open
What; Rose enters the arena
Where; Main street
When; Week 4
Warnings/Notes; Eye gore
The good thing about fighting with knitting needles was that they were always quite easy to replace. Even in this Arena, all it had taken was breaking into a few homes here and there, Rose getting the concept that they were abandoned quick enough, and boom. Someone was a knitter. And so really she takes no shame in stealing those, plus a few spare pares to tuck away on herself, nor does she take shame in going through the rest of the house to try and find anything else of use to her.
But she doesn't let herself stop, knowing she can't afford such a waste of time. She may have still been dazed when they forced her onto that platform but the words got though to her quick enough. Fight, Kill. Kill or be killed and Rose is hardened enough by her life and her memories that she doesn't plan to be on the side of killed. Even if her mind is racing with questions, whether this is the Batterwitch or not, some new twisted plan of hers. Where Dave is in turn, if he's still breathing here even. Too much time has passed, slipping through her fingers far too quickly for her liking and there's nothing she can do. It'd be folly to run yelling out into that fog.
Rose Lalonde is used to being alone, but not like this. For once her mind seems quiet, and no matter how hard she tries she can't See. The future, all fates, they're blocked off to her in a way that haven't been for all her years of sobriety. And in it's own way it's terrifying because she was used to it. She's used to knowing, and now she's blind on all sides on all topics.
She can't hide in this house all day though, so finally she makes her way through the partially disintegrated door, hopping over the hole in the front porch and she steals herself. And then she steps out into the fog, mindful of each step she makes, each breath she takes, needles held tight in her fists.
It's kill or be killed and Rose Lalonde will not be killed.
What; Rose enters the arena
Where; Main street
When; Week 4
Warnings/Notes; Eye gore
The good thing about fighting with knitting needles was that they were always quite easy to replace. Even in this Arena, all it had taken was breaking into a few homes here and there, Rose getting the concept that they were abandoned quick enough, and boom. Someone was a knitter. And so really she takes no shame in stealing those, plus a few spare pares to tuck away on herself, nor does she take shame in going through the rest of the house to try and find anything else of use to her.
But she doesn't let herself stop, knowing she can't afford such a waste of time. She may have still been dazed when they forced her onto that platform but the words got though to her quick enough. Fight, Kill. Kill or be killed and Rose is hardened enough by her life and her memories that she doesn't plan to be on the side of killed. Even if her mind is racing with questions, whether this is the Batterwitch or not, some new twisted plan of hers. Where Dave is in turn, if he's still breathing here even. Too much time has passed, slipping through her fingers far too quickly for her liking and there's nothing she can do. It'd be folly to run yelling out into that fog.
Rose Lalonde is used to being alone, but not like this. For once her mind seems quiet, and no matter how hard she tries she can't See. The future, all fates, they're blocked off to her in a way that haven't been for all her years of sobriety. And in it's own way it's terrifying because she was used to it. She's used to knowing, and now she's blind on all sides on all topics.
She can't hide in this house all day though, so finally she makes her way through the partially disintegrated door, hopping over the hole in the front porch and she steals herself. And then she steps out into the fog, mindful of each step she makes, each breath she takes, needles held tight in her fists.
It's kill or be killed and Rose Lalonde will not be killed.