Independent OC roleplay sideblog blog for Rosalynne Gillies. Writer is 25+ and triggering content will likely be present.
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@spatnotsplat
Independent OC roleplay sideblog blog for Rosalynne Gillies. Writer is 25+ and triggering content will likely be present.
LINKS: rules β about β character development β memes β face β

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@spatnotsplat.
"Rose?"
Ellison stands despite the instruction to sit and wait for the results he needs. Dr. Mescal had been clear in his instructions-- don't make a spectacle, Ellison, I swear to fuckin' God, or you're never getting my toxicology report-- and doing anything to get himself noticed was a clear violation of them. Still, it's hard not to notice the girl who's been around for both of his book tours (and had even helped out before Kentucky Blood even existed). Ellison's brows furrow slightly at the wonders of coincidence, but his mouth quirks up into a clearly chipper smile.
"Hey," he says, extending a hand for her to shake. It's sort of a reunion at this point; having frequented smaller bookstores, he'd been able to talk to his readers more intimately, Rose included.
"So this is where you're working now?"
It makes sense, of course-- every intern's bound to start working for real someday. But what're the chances that she'd end up on the East Coast after interning all the way in Kentucky?
"Damn." Ellison chuckles. "Congratulations. Welcome to the working full time club-- it's definitely not great."
Rosalynne is so wrapped up in her report as she walks down the hallway that she almost misses her name. Though, she's glad she picked up on it as she sees her favorite author only yards from her.
Unable to keep from beaming, she takes Ellison's offered hand in her own, offering an almost too cheery, "Hey, Ellison!"
With an easy nod, she looks around her place of work before her gaze returns to the man. "This is, indeed, where I'm working. I interned here for a bit while I finished up my Masters, and I was fortunate enough that they hired me right after."
There's a fond laugh huffed from her lips as he continues to speak, putting on a playfully curious expression, arching her eyebrow high into her forehead. "What? You mean the lack of a work-life balance, insane hours, and studying the shit out of anything biological that comes from a crime scene to help maybe get a conviction isn't the dream?
"Sure could've fooled me."
She folds both of her hands around the small stack of papers in her hands.
"Speaking of the dream- what brings you around these parts?"
Some old, defensive thing inside him nearly pipes up with an I've been sober two years too, but Rose brings up water instead. What stiffness began in him settles into quiet shame, and to answer her question, he shakes his head in response. Now that she's asked, he realises he hasn't eaten or drank anything in... God, however long it took to get here.
(He rushed to check out of his motel earlier, that was certain. Chances are he probably left a shirt in the closet, but Ellison was so many miles away now that it hardly mattered.)
"I have my stuff," he starts, brows furrowing, "uh, in my car. I probably should've grabbed those on the way, huh?"
Stumbling out of the driver's seat earlier, Ellison had only thought of getting to somebody. Anybody, really, that wasn't fucking dead or missing or whatever the fuck it was Bughuul did to people.
"I just, um..." He shrugs, as if this was something even remotely easy to be cool about. "I couldn't stand being alone a minute longer. Not today. You know?"
Rose can't help the relief that blossoms in her chest as he confirms that he hasn't had anything to drink. She knows he's been doing well, but being alone on the anniversary of something so horrid could make anyone relapse.
She's just grateful he didn't.
"I can help you grab whatever you need later, yeah? Just... get settled and take a breath. You can stay as long as you'd like. Let me grab you some water and we can figure out where we're ordering from because I am two and a half weeks overdue for a grocery trip."
With a reassuring squeeze, she finally pulls her hand away from Ellison's and gestures to the couch. "Make yourself at home," she calls as she moves to grab the aforementioned water and her stack of menus.
When she returns, she holds the glass out to Ellison with one hand and sets the menus on the coffee table.
"What do you want to eat?"
Rose isn't stupid, she knows full well that the last thing the man probably wants is to eat, but she also knows it's important for him to. And, if he doesn't want to be alone, he probably also wants a distraction. Even if normalcy is a fallacy in those moments, if it helps him, it's worth it.
@kentuckyblood cont. from here
Rosalynne can't help the way her heart twinges in her chest as Ellison responds. It makes sense that he'd look so rough around the edges on the anniversary of such a tragedy, but it's crazy to believe so much time has passed to begin with.
Has it really been two years already?
Her hand raises to delicately take hold of the hand curling around the door frame, coaxing it off of the wood to hold onto her instead.
"I did say that," she confirms, guiding him into her apartment so she can shut the door behind them. "I meant it, too. I just... Ell, you look... Have you been drinking today? I should get you water... probably something to eat and a shower for you, too."
God, you're a mess, aren't you? (From Rose)
@spatnotsplat, prompts.
"Shut up," Ellison says dryly, hand curved tight around the side of Rose's doorframe, "it's been two years."
Two years since his son and wife died in his sister-in-law's house. Two years since Ashley went missing. Two years since Ellison started seeing ghosts, and hearing the buzzing of flies in his ears, and had visions of killing everyone around him (to feed Bughuul, the poor thing, because he's been starving for fucking centuries).
"You said I could visit whenever I wanted, right?"
Maybe Ellison's paraphrasing, but the thought of being alone tonight makes him sick to his stomach. He isn't sure what he'd do, but already he knows that whatever it is, it wouldn't be smart. If not for the god lurking in the shadows of his mind, he'd think sobriety would likely be the death of him.
"So I'm visiting tonight. Don't be an asshole about it."

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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