#rosettevaleria

She collapsed back onto the training mat, chest heaving as she struggled to get in enough air but a wide, feral smile was on her face as she stared up at the ceiling. A slightly hysterical giggle came from her as she flung her arms up over her head.

Her nose bled actively, she could taste the coppery metallic liquid in the back of her mouth. Her hands positively ached, her joints feeling like they were on fire and her cuticles were bleeding. She could feel the blood drip from them and from underneath her hands. Had she wrecked them? Yeah. Was it worth it?

Hell fucking yes!

She was inordinately proud of her results: she had managed to hold a small ball of her aether for a full two minutes. Completely under her control, condensed and pulsing in sync with her own heartbeat.

Then it exploded outward, the scorch marks on the floor and the blisters on her hand were evidence enough of that. 

Another hysterical laugh came from her.

It was chaos in the streets of Ul’dah, people ducking into buildings and over hangs while cries of panic could be heard. Merchants hastily covered up their more delicate wares, looking to the sky as if another Calamity was happening. Rose was tucked underneath the extension of her roof that shielded her small garden as ice pellets fell from the sky. While it was a rare occasion, it did occasionally hail in Thanalan when the weather was right. 

Rosette stood in front of the full length mirror, smoothing the midnight blue silk across her abdomen and hips. She turned to the right, checking her side profile and then did the same for the other side. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, twisted up in a knot at the base of her skull with ebony ringlets falling from it.

She carefully adjusted one that fell in her face, her kohled cerulean eyes following her movements in the mirror. She took a deep breath and began to pull on the white silk gloves that went with it. It was an important night: she had to gather as much information as she possibly could about the business partner Alistair was working with now - both of them taking aim at her.

She had a part to play, people to flirt with and palms to grease. She hated doing this and, at this point, she was grateful that Landon was away. She would be incredibly tempted to bring him with her, to fend off the appraising looks and the salacious leers. Like she was a prize to win, a ripe peach to pick from a tree to add to their fruit bowl.

The reflection smiled back at me as I stared into the polished glass, arms braced against the counter top where the water ran freely into the wash basin. We shared the same ebony hair with more and more strands of silver weaved into it from years of stress and attempts at aether use. The same freckles adorned the bridge of our nose and cheekbones, the same scar from Alistair’s signet ring woven through them.

The woman smirked, an expression that I did not return. Instead, I remained stone-faced with a faint furrow between my brows. I was covered in blood from the recent Hunt that I was called to - I tried to spare my people from some of the heavier duties as Midnighters. They needn’t know. “They needn’t know, hm?” My reflection parroted back at me as I bent down and began washing the blood from my face. Some of it was mine, the cut in my scalp had bleed like a fucking waterfall. Some of it was from our quarry, a mage that had brokered far too many deals with voidsent and ended up sacrificing a young woman who was just barely 16 summers. The rest of the sticky, flaky substance was the remnants of another Hunter - Wisp, had been his moniker.

The voidsent that had carved his chest open as he attempted to be the group’s shield was an image that I could still see on the back of my eyelids. How long would that be there? 

“Likely for the next several weeks,” the Other Me idly replied, a soft laugh coming from her. “What will you tell Jac when you cannot sleep?”

“That the night terrors are back.”

“Lie.”

My gaze snapped up at her and I countered sharply, “Truth.”

The Other Me snorted derisively, “If you’re going to argue with me over a technicality, then you have really cracked, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes and glared at her, my face dripping with red-tinted water as it drip-drip-dripped into the wash basin. “Fuck off, whore.”

I blinked and the Other Me was gone, leaving the mirror with just...Me.

The wind whipped silken ebony strands around Rose’s face, the ends flicking back and stinging her skin. There was biting chill in the wind and the long, white chemise did little to protect her from it. She hugged herself tightly, shivering in the cold as she stared at the desolate, open ground around her that was cracked and dry from drought.

Her head turned on a swivel, looking at the area around her before she looked down, down, down into the black, yawning chasm that lay open at her bare feet. She felt nothing but apathy as she could see the edge beginning to start to fissure and fall beneath her bare toes. Her shoulders slumped, knowing it was pointless to run or to fight. She would fall, anyways. She would tumble into that black pit of nothingness.

A gaping empty nothingness that was all consuming, as hollow and empty as she felt. 

The ground gave way beneath her feet and her eyes closed as she willingly let gravity pull her down...down...down.

On a soft inhale, Rosette’s eyes opened as she stared into the dark and she shivered. Her head turned, seeing that Landon had fought and won the blanket battle tonight. She rolled to her side to face him, nudging and murmuring to him to share the blankets. A soft grunt came from him and he shuffled, rousing just enough to unwrap himself and allow her to snuggle up against him.

The hour was late in the House that Aetherwatch occupied and few, if any, were awake. 

There was no one in the sparring room in the basement other Rose, anyways. If anyone had come downstairs to see what was happening, they likely did an about-face and high-tailed it out of there.

She was frustrated, dripping with sweat and her nose bled steadily. She hadn’t been able to sleep and decided to try to work on her aether control...but it just wasn’t working. Everything she was trying to control it didn’t work: deep breathing, bringing it to her palms and holding it between her hands in a ball, and several other techniques she had seen the mages of the Society use.

Her mind was too unsettled for a meditative state and she finally gave up, pacing in her agitation as she muttered angrily to herself. What couldn’t she just do something so fucking simple? Mafrea, Emeline, and even Booshie could channel their aether as easily as breathing! Why couldn’t she? Why was it so fucking difficult?

She yelled, her temper finally fraying and she pivoted, turning on a training dummy and slamming her fist in the dead center of it.

crrrr-ACK!!

Rosetted stared at the training dummy, frozen in place as splinters flew every where as her aether-laden fist caused it to explode. She had done this before on the battlefield, but this time felt...different. Like instead of the attack being forced, it was like it flowed freely under her skin...like the blood in her veins. 

the anti-hero

"i diDn't wAnt to be a HerO" too bad you are one. you're the anti-hero! a main character for sure, you're the morally gray protagonist. you're unconventional, cynical, and you like your alone time. you might be the most sarcastic person ever. you might have questionable methods, but you do the right thing in the end... usually. you dislike being pitied. you're the TEXTBOOK neutral. also very chaotic. i fear and respect you.

Quiz is here!

Tagged by: @healeremeline​

Rose sat in the uncomfortable, high back chair in front of the large rosewood desk and she kept her gaze steadily on the surface of it. It was organized and pristine. Papers were neatly stacked and books were set to the side, there was no clutter at all on the large, polished surface. It was so unlike her own that her mind was having a hard time processing it. How in the hell was she related to this man?

She leaned back against the back of the chair, taking a deep and steadying breath. She wouldn’t have come here unless the situation called for it: protecting the teams searching for and retrieving Layla was worth it. She hated this. Every fiber of her being was screaming to get out, to run. Her demeanor was calm and collected, but inside it was a chaotic and destructive whirlwind. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you grace my door...for negotiations, no less.” Alistair’s honeyed voice came from behind her.  She didn’t turn around but straightened in her chair, feeling her pulse begin to race. His hand touched her shoulder and she flinched, unable to stop herself. “We may be at odds, brother, but we are both still business people. I see no reason why we can’t talk about a business deal.”

His hand tightened on her left shoulder, his fingers digging in painfully and Rosette grit her teeth. It was purposeful, a warning. She knew it for what is was and knew there would be bruises as a reminder of whom she dealt with. Pain and fear caused her pulse to pound in his neck...but the one who was in tune with it was nowhere near to know.

“Yet all of the business proposals that I’ve offered thus far were rejected...rather rudely.” Her elder sibling smiled down at her, showing his straight white teeth in a mocking smile. “That’s truly no way to do business, little sister. I thought Father taught you better. Perhaps you shoulder apologize?”

Rosette’s temper sparked, “Apologize for telling you to go to--” The grip tightened more and she broke off in a hiss. “Alright! Alright... I apologize for being rude in my rejection.” She whispered softly, pain making her voice tight.

The grip remained a moment and then left her shoulder entirely. Alistair moved to the other side of the desk and sat down, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. “Well then, Rosie, what has brought you to my door?”

She set the piece of paper on the desk, sliding it across the smooth, rosewood surface. “I need these items...delivered to the person on this list.” She watched her brother from over the rim of her glasses as he read through the paper, nodding slowly. “I know Miss Oktovia Dirgdottir...Miss Odd, as she prefers.” Alisters murmured as he stroked his bearded chin. “Aurum regis? Refined into sand?” He looked to Rosette, arching a brow at her. “Rare and expensive.”

She nodded, shifting in her chair and resting back against it, her hands folded demurely in her lap. “I know. I’d be willing to pay the market price for the amount, as well as cost your shipping costs. It would be gil in your pocket.” She met her brother’s gaze, his expression nonplussed. “...And I would owe you a favor.”

That certainly gained Alistair’s attention, a slow smile curving his lips and he leaned forward on the desk. It took every ounce of Rosette’s willpower not to recoil.

“Well, Rosie...” He spoke softly with barely restrained amusement and interest. “It seems we’ve some terms to negotiate.”