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Oh, monsters are scared, said Lettie. That’s why they’re monsters.

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane (via theliteraryjournals)

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Art by sido魂

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"I didn't need your help."

Those words choked any pretense of thanks out of the atmosphere between them like a garrote.

Rather than give the man any greeting that could be deemed proper, Rosa had instead affixed him with a steely stare as he brashly took a seat at her table. She didn't turn him away though, however great her impulse was to do so. It wasn't the first time someone in this city acted like they were familiar with her, throwing her name around as if they had a reason to know it. The why of it all was still a mystery, and for the time being her need for answers overpowered her ire. Not by much.

Rosa threw her glass back, downing what was left of her scotch. For one reason or another she was damned thirsty all of a sudden.

"Let me guess, I'm supposed to know who you are too. I'll make it easy for you. I don't." Her good eye narrowed as she gave him a thorough once over, weighing about eight thoughts at once over how to make him talk in the event he was unwilling. None of them were wholly suitable for an open sidewalk, but it didn't matter. "You wanna tell me why you think I'm any friend of yours? I recommend you spit it out now before I make you eat your teeth."

Demons of the past had a way of resurfacing, though not often as literally as this.

The rancor raised by the couple could be heard from a distance, even when taking in consideration the clamor of other patrons and the clanking of silverware. Curious customers glued their eyes to them like onlookers of an accident, but Simon simply raised his cup to his lips and kept his eyes trained on the newspaper in front of him. District on fire, murder continued to run rampant, yadda yadda. One had to question who thought a newspaper for Hive City was essential considering the same news inked the pages with little variance each week. Something to kill the time, Simon supposed.

He thought he could block out the little spat and enjoy his time alone when that voice struck his ear. It was direct, somewhat commanding, unapologetically cold but above all…familiar. His eyes finally raised from the paper and were met with a sight that nearly made him recoil. Rosa…in a form strikingly (and unfortunately) familiar.

Simon watched from afar as she chastised the citizens. The last time she was like this, she notably more exhausted - more emotionally drained. Yet it never reached to such an apathetic and coldhearted extreme. Was this the scientist’s intervention once more, or perhaps…?

His eyes darted between the dumbfounded citizens and Rosa, who seemingly tried to divorce herself from the situation. Simon sighed, tossed his newspaper on the table and stood up, his chair skidding behind him.

“She wants you to take a hint.” His voice called out and brought them back to reality as he stole their attention. “You’re annoying everyone. Move along.” Confusion and shock still plastered on their mugs, the citizens meandered away from the scene. Even Simon felt a twinge of guilt at yelling at the poor bystanders further, but he needed them gone.

There was an uncomfortable silence across the cafe, but eventually hushed murmurs gave way to the usual chatter. Simon abandoned his drink as he sat across from Rosa completely uninvited.

“Rosa, what happened? Why did you say all that crap?”

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I want to trust but it scares the skin off my bones.

Tahereh Mafi (via quotemadness)

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@convictedfeathers

Not everything about Rosa’s transition had changed her. Tact had never been her strong point, at least not when it hadn’t been planned ahead and sometimes thoughts that were less than kind or even cruel could fall loose. The only difference made over the last couple of decades was that she’d come to care far less when it happened.

“What did you just say?”

A woman and her husband, halted by the table outside a small cafe where she sat, were what could be sparsely described as indignant. They’d been having a rather heated and shrill argument only moments before and Rosa, being the fan of peace and quiet that she ever was, lost the grasp on her filter. Something slipped from her tongue about the pointlessness of their quarrel, that their relation was a construct and so were they. The rate at which their fight clipped might’ve been impressive under different circumstances.

“You– you tell me just what that’s supposed to mean!”

A pin through the heart could silence any beast, but even Rosa knew she’d gone too far. There was no returning spilled milk to its glass however, and so she calmly lifted her own to her lips for another taste of whiskey while their fire rightfully rained on her.

“You’re one of those, aren’t you. You’re just a stranger. This is our home, but you think you can call us whatever you like, treating us like roadside garbage while you ruin our city!” The husband, a person of middling age and a progression of salt and pepper coloring in his mustache looked upon the rather spidery stranger with wide eyes and an uneasy stillness to his frame. His long haired wife spat enough venom for them both, clinging to his arm all the while. “We were here long before you ever were! We’re people just much as y–”

“No. You’re not.”

Rosa knew spirit. It was a sixth sense by now– she could detect its presence in others with a distinct scent that held an eerie familiarity. There was none of it here.

“You don’t have a soul. You’re convincing, and it’s not your fault, but you weren’t born. You were built. Why and by who, I don’t know.” And that was true, she knew nothing about their origin or their circumstance, but an empty shell was recognizable enough to her. A taboo subject perhaps, but now that she’d dug herself this hole she had to go the whole hog. Her voice was low so as not to announce it to those who didn’t need to hear. “Don’t worry. You’re not the only ones, but I’d bet money others have noticed besides me. Point is, there’s nothing of you to hurt. Deal with it however you need to, but try doing it quietly. Hopefully that isn’t a journey for you,” she tacked on with an iciness that she hoped would express her unearned desire to be left alone.

The couple seemed far too dazed to respond properly. Slack jawed and decorated with thousand yard stares, it was uncertain whether or not they’d comprehended her. It seemed enough to lead them to leave either way, and they immediately and wordlessly crossed the street to the opposite sidewalk to try and be rid of that heavy cloud.

Unbeknownst to Rosa, who went back to her drink with an added tightness to her expression, another man in a ponytail and dressed in black had been witness to that entire coldblooded and heartless exchange. Consequently, it didn’t look like her wish for solitude was going to be fulfilled anytime soon.

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( here to app an older rosa cervantes as my own double! her app can be found on the border links or under /app. )

Welcome to the Hive, Ghost Rosa!

You’ll be housed in district zeta!

You’ll retain your ability to use Shadow Sneak to attack people three times per day.

Enjoy your stay!

– mod o13

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Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you’ll find an edge to cut you.

Mark Lawrence (via quotemadness)

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Listening to the PMD Explorers of Sky OST, and this came to my mind.