Rosita Espinosa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
handleyourshit) wrote2032-07-23 01:51 pm
handleyourshit) wrote2032-07-23 01:51 pm
She leads them out of the caves, picking her way carefully, still learning the route; she passes his hand back and forth between hers behind her back as she needs to balance, but doesn't let go altogether until they walk back out into the comparative light of the Down.
It's dangerous here for her, more than it's ever been. She doesn't care right now. Maybe it's more dangerous for everyone else.
It's dangerous here for her, more than it's ever been. She doesn't care right now. Maybe it's more dangerous for everyone else.
Perhaps strangely, none of the locals fuck with them when they reach the Down. Craver almost wishes they would just to break up the momentum. It would give him something to do, a path he knows almost too well. Act, react, so on. On and on and on. This is why Pope always had them fighting a war, Carver realizes. Because if they stopped, what would they really have?
Not much at all.
Nothing stops them, though. No one even says a word to them, or seems to notice that Carver isn't wearing a collar. He doesn't have the energy for that bullshit right now, and so he leads Rosita into the house without a word. Vanessa's out.
He's never taken her into his room, he realizes as he moves through the house. Barely anyone's ever seen it. Even Grayson only visited occasionally, and never without asking permission first. It's a strange thought to bear now, in the aftermath. Carver just exhales and opens the door, kneeling to catch the kitten that immediately tries to bolt out into the hall.
"Hey, you," he murmurs as Dulcinea speaks indignantly. But he peers up at Rosita as he holds the kitten, clutching her to his chest as she starts to chew on his jacket. "...you can come in. If you want."
Not much at all.
Nothing stops them, though. No one even says a word to them, or seems to notice that Carver isn't wearing a collar. He doesn't have the energy for that bullshit right now, and so he leads Rosita into the house without a word. Vanessa's out.
He's never taken her into his room, he realizes as he moves through the house. Barely anyone's ever seen it. Even Grayson only visited occasionally, and never without asking permission first. It's a strange thought to bear now, in the aftermath. Carver just exhales and opens the door, kneeling to catch the kitten that immediately tries to bolt out into the hall.
"Hey, you," he murmurs as Dulcinea speaks indignantly. But he peers up at Rosita as he holds the kitten, clutching her to his chest as she starts to chew on his jacket. "...you can come in. If you want."
Rosita hasn't been in this house at all, and she has no idea what to make of it even when they walk up to it. She knows they moved. She doesn't know why, doesn't know... much. But he leads them in, and she stays right behind him because he hasn't told her to stop yet. She stays right behind him because this house is emptier now than it was yesterday, and she doesn't know how he's going to react to that, so she stays where she is.
She stands back while he handles the kitten, watching, failing to miss how he holds onto her. How he holds her close. She smiles when he looks up at her, and she nods, just once.
"We can stay for a while."
She stands back while he handles the kitten, watching, failing to miss how he holds onto her. How he holds her close. She smiles when he looks up at her, and she nods, just once.
"We can stay for a while."
In truth, Carver doesn’t know if he wants to stay, if he wants to remain in motion. Maybe go on patrol and do something useful. Ask Rosita what chores need to be done because there are always chores that need to be done, and set himself to the task. Anything to keep himself moving, to stop thinking.
Or maybe he just wants to lie down on the floor and not exist for a while.
Hard to say, really.
“Okay,” Carver says softly, for lack of a better idea, and pushes the door open. Inside, the room is dark but oddly cozy despite it all: warm, and clean, and with clear lines of sight so that no enemy would be able to hide in this place without Carver knowing. Normally he would set tripwires and other contingencies, each more violent than the last, but the kitten gets into everything and so he’s held back. She doesn’t know any better.
Inside, there’s a bed, desk, and a closet. All dark wood, practical, picked by someone with a finer eye than Carver ever cared to have. The bed is made with a soldier’s precision, and hardly ever slept in. But the books—careful stacks of them lined up on his desk, many with handwritten notes inside, those are all Carver’s. Carefully collected, lovingly held. The books, and the weapons, are all his.
He goes to a cabinet and pulls out Dulcinea’s bowl and her newest can of cat food, clicking his tongue at her—though she’s already leaping around, mewing loudly, demanding her next meal.
“You’re loud,” he murmurs fondly, and barely gets his hand out of the way before the kitten shoved her face into the bowl. “You’d think I didn’t feed you at all.”
Or maybe he just wants to lie down on the floor and not exist for a while.
Hard to say, really.
“Okay,” Carver says softly, for lack of a better idea, and pushes the door open. Inside, the room is dark but oddly cozy despite it all: warm, and clean, and with clear lines of sight so that no enemy would be able to hide in this place without Carver knowing. Normally he would set tripwires and other contingencies, each more violent than the last, but the kitten gets into everything and so he’s held back. She doesn’t know any better.
Inside, there’s a bed, desk, and a closet. All dark wood, practical, picked by someone with a finer eye than Carver ever cared to have. The bed is made with a soldier’s precision, and hardly ever slept in. But the books—careful stacks of them lined up on his desk, many with handwritten notes inside, those are all Carver’s. Carefully collected, lovingly held. The books, and the weapons, are all his.
He goes to a cabinet and pulls out Dulcinea’s bowl and her newest can of cat food, clicking his tongue at her—though she’s already leaping around, mewing loudly, demanding her next meal.
“You’re loud,” he murmurs fondly, and barely gets his hand out of the way before the kitten shoved her face into the bowl. “You’d think I didn’t feed you at all.”
I wasn't fishing, Magpie.
I know where we stand.
I know where we stand.
For all of her time here, Rosita hasn't really been invited into anyone's home that she would actually accept; the Manor, and one other friend and Jesus of course, but that's it. And this isn't for sex, so she really doesn't know what to do with herself, not really.
So she looks around them, closing the door quietly so Dulcinea doesn't run out again even if her attention is all on Carver and the food right now. Rosita lets her attention roam around the room, not knowing what she might have expected, and... honestly, unsurprised at what she finds. She's not sure if it's Grayson's touch or Vanessa's she's seeing, but it doesn't not feel like Carver. He's not out of place here.
She lingers near the books, one fingertip brushing along the leading edge of the cover on the topmost volume, and listens to him talking to Dulcinea. It feels... private in here, like maybe she's not supposed to be here, like maybe no one is, but he said she could come in so she stays and listens to the kitten eating, and takes in the silent details others might not expect from him.
So she looks around them, closing the door quietly so Dulcinea doesn't run out again even if her attention is all on Carver and the food right now. Rosita lets her attention roam around the room, not knowing what she might have expected, and... honestly, unsurprised at what she finds. She's not sure if it's Grayson's touch or Vanessa's she's seeing, but it doesn't not feel like Carver. He's not out of place here.
She lingers near the books, one fingertip brushing along the leading edge of the cover on the topmost volume, and listens to him talking to Dulcinea. It feels... private in here, like maybe she's not supposed to be here, like maybe no one is, but he said she could come in so she stays and listens to the kitten eating, and takes in the silent details others might not expect from him.
He tucks the can away into a bag to dispose of later, watching the kitten, and then just sits down on the floor next to her. Pulling his knees up to this chest, watching Dulcinea as she grumbles and devours her food. Hungry little thing. She's still growing.
Here, she won't know what it feels like to starve. He'll take care of her as long as he can.
"You can sit," Carver adds quietly, glancing up at Rosita. "If you want."
Here, she won't know what it feels like to starve. He'll take care of her as long as he can.
"You can sit," Carver adds quietly, glancing up at Rosita. "If you want."
She watches, wanting to ask howo g they have before they have to be out of this place, if he knows where he's going. She wants to ask him not just to come back to Creekside now but to stay there, to make a home there instead, but now isn't the time. He isn't even behind his eyes.
He invites her to sit and for a moment she glances around to decide on where, and settles at the edge of the bed. It feels a bit wrong, actually, with how neat and smooth the covers are but she can fix it again after.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asks, quietly. He can retract the permission any time, and at least here he has Dulcinea. At least here he isn't out there, at the mercy of merciless strangers.
He invites her to sit and for a moment she glances around to decide on where, and settles at the edge of the bed. It feels a bit wrong, actually, with how neat and smooth the covers are but she can fix it again after.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asks, quietly. He can retract the permission any time, and at least here he has Dulcinea. At least here he isn't out there, at the mercy of merciless strangers.
Carver rests his chin on his knees. There are practical questions now. Logistics that need to be handled. Eventually, he’ll need to talk with Vanessa about what they’re both doing, because they will need to do something.
Maybe he’ll just take the kitten and go live in the woods for a bit.
“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I’m not good company, but.”
It feels better with someone there, someone other than the ghosts.
Maybe he’ll just take the kitten and go live in the woods for a bit.
“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I’m not good company, but.”
It feels better with someone there, someone other than the ghosts.
He's not good company, but she doesn't need him to be. She won't ask him again. If he wants her to go, he can ask her to go.
Now though, she nods. She leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees for a moment, watching him.
"It's okay," she promises again. "But I'm going to go to the kitchen to find something for you to eat. I'll come straight back here."
She waits only long enough to see that it's registered, before she's pushing to her feet to do exactly what she said she was going to do. He doesn't need to make any more decisions right now.
Now though, she nods. She leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees for a moment, watching him.
"It's okay," she promises again. "But I'm going to go to the kitchen to find something for you to eat. I'll come straight back here."
She waits only long enough to see that it's registered, before she's pushing to her feet to do exactly what she said she was going to do. He doesn't need to make any more decisions right now.
Carver doesn’t respond, just rests his chin on his knees and watches the kitten go whole hog on her dinner and then, almost daintily, begin to clean herself off when she’s done. Her little tail giggled back and forth and she’s so unguarded it scares him sometimes, all the ways she doesn’t know how to protect herself. She’s not like the war dogs at all.
Maybe that’s the point, though.
Carver scrubs at his face and watches the kitten, feeling nothing but tired. Rosita will find the kitchen well stocked and meticulously organized, ever inch of it scrubbed clean. He’s the only person who’s ever used it. He wonders, briefly, what will happen to it once he’s kicked out.
Maybe that’s the point, though.
Carver scrubs at his face and watches the kitten, feeling nothing but tired. Rosita will find the kitchen well stocked and meticulously organized, ever inch of it scrubbed clean. He’s the only person who’s ever used it. He wonders, briefly, what will happen to it once he’s kicked out.
It takes her a minute to find the kitchen at all, but she doesn't intentionally go poking around anywhere she shouldn't be. She doesn't spend much time poking around in the kitchen, either, and at first she thinks she needs to return everything to exactly as it was.
Then she looks down at the small mess she's made cutting up a peach and assembling a sandwich, and decides maybe it'd be good for him to have something to focus on, maybe something annoying. She puts away the food so it won't spoil and takes the rest with her back to the room.
She knocks but doesn't wait for an invitation, just comes back in and sits back down next to him. She glances at the kitten, too, but sets the plate on his knee.
"I know you're not hungry," she admits. "But eat it before the cat does anyway."
Then she looks down at the small mess she's made cutting up a peach and assembling a sandwich, and decides maybe it'd be good for him to have something to focus on, maybe something annoying. She puts away the food so it won't spoil and takes the rest with her back to the room.
She knocks but doesn't wait for an invitation, just comes back in and sits back down next to him. She glances at the kitten, too, but sets the plate on his knee.
"I know you're not hungry," she admits. "But eat it before the cat does anyway."
For the first time in a long time, food feels like an afterthought. Carver stares at the plate, reaching out to make sure it doesn’t tip over and make a wasteful mess. He needs to eat but he’s not hungry: doesn’t feel much of anything, really. He wonders if this deadened calm is better or worse than the manic energy that bursts through him sometimes.
The cat shouldn’t have people food, though. So, there’s that.
“Okay,” he agrees quietly, lifting the plate out of the way as Dulcinea trots over and immediately goes onto her hind legs to try and snag some of the bread. “I know I need to plan shit,” he adds after a moment. “But I can’t right now. Not yet.”
The cat shouldn’t have people food, though. So, there’s that.
“Okay,” he agrees quietly, lifting the plate out of the way as Dulcinea trots over and immediately goes onto her hind legs to try and snag some of the bread. “I know I need to plan shit,” he adds after a moment. “But I can’t right now. Not yet.”
He isn't hungry and he may not be for a long time yet but it's still important. Still vital. She can stand in for his body knowing what it needs for a while.
She reaches to scoop up Dulcinea, to keep her out of his face for a moment.
"I know," she agrees. "But we have time. I'll do what I can when you're ready."
She reaches to scoop up Dulcinea, to keep her out of his face for a moment.
"I know," she agrees. "But we have time. I'll do what I can when you're ready."
It’s important to eat. The body needs fuel. The body needs to survive. Carver stares at the plate for a long time.
Finally, he takes a slice of peach and eats mechanically, without tasting it.
“Thank you,” he says, very softly.
Finally, he takes a slice of peach and eats mechanically, without tasting it.
“Thank you,” he says, very softly.
She just shakes her head; there's nothing to thank her for, even if she won't dismiss the impulse outright. Nothing can be taken for granted. She'd be here anyway.
Some things negate petty squabbles. If they had any, this would be one.
She settles the kitten in her lap, stroking her ears and ignoring the way she bats at her fingers in annoyance at being kept from the food.
"I want you to come with me to Creekside," she says. "Vanessa, too, if she needs a place. We'll work something out."
Some things negate petty squabbles. If they had any, this would be one.
She settles the kitten in her lap, stroking her ears and ignoring the way she bats at her fingers in annoyance at being kept from the food.
"I want you to come with me to Creekside," she says. "Vanessa, too, if she needs a place. We'll work something out."
Oh, Carver thinks, and he doesn't answer immediately. He finishes the fruit and stares at the plate, trying to focus. To remember what it feels like to be focused.
"Okay," he says finally. Quiet, just like before. "Vanessa has her own place. She stays there sometimes. I'll talk to her."
Figure something out.
"Okay," he says finally. Quiet, just like before. "Vanessa has her own place. She stays there sometimes. I'll talk to her."
Figure something out.
She wants to push more, wants to focus him on the here and now, wants to solve something. Wants to fix it.
She can't fix it though. She distracts Dulcinea and watches to prompt Carver to finish the sandwich, and stays ready to move the plate out of the way when he's done.
"I know there's no quick, easy way through this," she finally says. "But whatever happens, I want you to know, I want you around. There's a place for you wherever I am, no matter what that looks like. If you need someone, need anything, even if you don't know what it is - call me. We'll figure it out."
She doesn't know if he will, can't promise to be able to help, but she can promise to make sure he's not alone for as long as she's here to answer.
She can't fix it though. She distracts Dulcinea and watches to prompt Carver to finish the sandwich, and stays ready to move the plate out of the way when he's done.
"I know there's no quick, easy way through this," she finally says. "But whatever happens, I want you to know, I want you around. There's a place for you wherever I am, no matter what that looks like. If you need someone, need anything, even if you don't know what it is - call me. We'll figure it out."
She doesn't know if he will, can't promise to be able to help, but she can promise to make sure he's not alone for as long as she's here to answer.
Exactly that. Bullshit.
Congratulations, you figured it out.
Congratulations, you figured it out.
Hi there! I'm hoping this is reaching Rosita Espinosa. This is Elle Woods. I hope you're well.
This is going to probably sound very strange, but I'd like to send a little card your way. A Good Luck one? Maybe with a small packet of glitter to share with a grumpy Submissive. Oh, and a comb! For good measure.
Where should I send these?
This is going to probably sound very strange, but I'd like to send a little card your way. A Good Luck one? Maybe with a small packet of glitter to share with a grumpy Submissive. Oh, and a comb! For good measure.
Where should I send these?
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