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[threnodeity]

rose lalonde

Rose Strider. Grimoire expert and future emissary to the old gods. Say what you wish.

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[threnodeity]

[This is what Rose is thinking: it's too fantastical, too otherworldly to buy into. But she believes him 100%. There's no reason for Dave to make these things up yet she can't piece together what it possibly means. If Dirk had a vision she has to grill him about what he saw. And--

That's as far as her thoughts get. She can hear Dave, but she isn't listening to him anymore. The air tastes heavy with rain, with the promise of a storm. The color of Dave's room fades, giving way to an ashen landscape -- there's the scent of alcohol and perfume and pine. The ground is wet.

There is a cat. It is wearing a suit. It looks incredibly expensive -- more expensive than anything she's ever worn.

Dave, of course, can't see what she's seeing. Rose isn't even aware of what she's doing. Her eyes are distant, as if she's zoning out.]

[parodeity]

[ he can't see what she's seeing, but he's seen it happen to two people. jade and dirk. it's happened to him more than once - although it hasn't yet in this conversation - and he doesn't let go of her hand. there's worry on his face, muted in the same way a lot of things are expression-wise for him, but - ]

Rose?

[threnodeity]

[She hears him saying her name distantly, but the sound of his voice is warped. It morphs into an older woman's timbre, one that sounds strange yet awfully familiar for reasons she can't place--

And then it's over. One blink and the dreary landscape is swept away, vanished as if it were a wayward thought. The sensation of rain still fills her nostrils as does a heavy ache in the back of her throat. It feels like she almost wanted to cry, for some reason? Rose looks down at their hands, then back up at Dave.]

So.

[She's trying to string together a coherent and intelligent sentence.]

That's what you were talking about.

[NAILED IT]

[parodeity]

Oh, shit.

[ like, he figured? but the confirmation sure is a thing. dave...proceeds not to let go of rose's hand. he will kind of awkwardly knock his shoulder into hers? this is step two of the sibling comfort echeladder, maybe. ]

Did you see the whole...sugar disaster, or somethin' else?

[threnodeity]

[this social bond is deepening to great heights. it's going up. it's soaring. it's gone. not even light itself can catch this motherfucker's empathy levels.

Jokes aside, Rose appreciates the gesture. It's not much, but at least it's something. She leans a little against his shoulder.]

It appears animals are a theme between us.

[...]

I saw a cat having a fancier funeral than I could ever hope to have.

[parodeity]

Rose, I promise if you die I will throw you the fanciest fuckin' funeral in the universe. Immediately before losing it in the most acrobatic way possible, of course. I'll even fling myself on your casket. All fancy funerals need that one dude or dudette flinging themselves dramatically on a casket.

[ dave will up the ante and drop his head to her shoulder. wow. cooking with fire NOW. ]

So, what's your professional take on our weird-ass hallucinations, havin' had one of your very own?

[threnodeity]

[Okay, his stupid sense of humor is helping a little. She manages an amused scoff.]

I'd say we're going crazy but I'm certain we've already embraced that.

[She doesn't like it when she doesn't know things. Therefore--]

Any good psychologist would keep record of their patient's history. I suggest we begin one for ourselves -- a diary, of sorts.

[Clean, logical, understandable. It provides some comfort.]

[parodeity]

Like, one diary? Are we doin' a crazy dream exchange diary. I hallucinate and lovingly write down the deets in pink glitter gel pen and sign the damn thing with twenty hearts and smiley faces and slide it under your pillow and you write all over my hallucinations with meticulous breakdowns of my psyche and notes on the logical structure of my write ups and then there's forty pages on one hallucination from you, sporadically sprinkled with wizardfic, boiling down to "fancy cat funeral"?

[ rose is comforted by a clearcut logical plan.

dave is comforted by absurdity. ]

[threnodeity]

[It makes sense. He prefers to say 'fuck this shit i'm out,' Rose prefers to say 'fuck off.']

I'll be providing fifty pages for your sass. My wizardfic is solely for my enjoyment. You don't deserve that privilege just yet.

[parodeity]

You say that like I would seriously mind fifty pages of nonsense.

[ but. ]

So now you know what I meant by it felt real.