Wish My Life Away // Rosemary

[SOLVEIG]

It had been a little bit of time since Solveig had made her way into the Typhoon in the most graceful of fashions- of which seemed to be actually a very common method of reaching the isolated island. Her shoulder was still bandaged and sore, but it was healing every day, and almost better than it had been. Had it not been for the fact she had been swept into the ocean for nearly an entire day with an open gash on her shoulder, perhaps it would have already been healed by now. At the very least, the salt water had done quite a number on keeping infection out. As for Solveig, well, she was settling in easy enough. Seeing Pincher again was... Well, it was a shock to say the least, but she had tried not to let the sight of a former familiar face trip her up too much as she settled into a small home on his territory. Perhaps it was for that reason that Solveig stayed. Perhaps it was for other reasons that she did. After all, why would one wonder why she washed up on the beach if it seldom mattered? She were only now another face in the crowd, another figure to forget.

Yet Rosemary seemed to be quite the opposite. She had been lingering on the girl for a while. She was bright, and smart, and had a wicked tongue. Yet, people around here seemed to respect her and rely on her for.. just about anything. It was that odd sense of respect that dictated how Solveig was to conduct herself around Rosemary, but there was something about her that set her on edge. Solveig was not one to show emotion- she had herself carefully locked down and controlled, from every breath, to every shift of her body, from her eyes all the way down to her paws.

But the way Rosemary had shut Solveig out of her head and demanded she spoke verbally had struck a sour chord with her. She could understand the hate of telepathy- Too well- but such a reaction? What the heck was that? Her thoughts mulled as she sat outside her little humble abode, her paws absentmindedly working with a small stalk of Aloe. She had all intentions to carefully split the thing open, if she had a knife, but she didn't. Instead, she rolled it idly between her dry paws, sat carefully given the soreness of her shoulder as she exhaled in a faint sigh. Rosemary. Caeser- the faces she had met so far were either indifferent towards her, or hostile. Was she really such an unwelcome face, even here? Even after all she had escaped? Maybe she was.

//hope this is good enough eep

witch coven 2018
[member=1130]rosemary roux[/member]

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[ROSEMARY]

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She found herself unsure about how to deal with this crewmate that wanted to talk with telepathy - as casually as to inject her thoughts into complete strangers' heads. Given the lack of reaction from the other crewmates, she started to realize that her stance on magic might not fit the status quo; it seemed a lot of her assumptions she took for granted in her family's coven no longer applied. This agitated her, given just how differently people behaved that she supposed they thought; as though they held no respect for the magic that powered them. But, as she thought with a slight frown, she supposed that these less mystical people likely never bothered to stop and think about how they ought to feel around magic, specifically people using magic on them. She doubted any more than a handful of people in the group even possessed the ability to use telepathy; so, then, she supposed her outright assumption that everyone held a deep understanding of the power and how to treat it made less sense than their naive behavior.

Still, she needed to get a handle on this; time to find Solveig, no matter how much she disliked socializing. With a flick of her forked tail, she changed her direction and followed the closest scent trail to take her to the other woman. Far too quickly, she found the domestic feline in question - who seemed fixated on a plant. Aloe? Yes, that looked like aloe to her.

"Looking to treat a burn?" she asked, walking over to stand in front of the snowshoe. The ocelot, naturally, remembered Goldie's burns - which Rosemary treated with fishskin bandages, though for the life of her she struggled to get the child to stay at home and rest in bed for even a few hours. Still, she didn't think this was for Goldie - her niece certainly would have come to tell her if anything changed with her wounds. Perhaps someone else stupidly got smacked by lightning? Or, it couldn't have even been an injury - too many possibilities, and too much curiosity in her head.

[SOLVEIG]

It was not a lack of respect on Solveig's part for her magic. No, she respected it more than anything. Perhaps to some it was a tool, an object, but for Solveig, it was a part of her. It gave her power, it gave her control over her life- perhaps this is was Rose saw in her and her Magic, but it was far more than that. Almost unexplainable for Solveig to explain the depth of her magic and its impact. She had more than Telepathy, not that she would care to tell Rose that. But the difference between Rosemary's coven, and Solveig's own (though perhaps 'cult' was more fitting for hers), was a wide divide of differences. Perhaps they shared the same respects and beliefs, though had grown differently in that matter.

At the very least, Rosemary had made it very clear how she felt about Solveig and her Magic. Despite how it hurt her to speak, it seems that Solveig was obligated to respect that given that  Rosemary would not do the same for her. Speaking of Rosemary, it was not long before the sound of footsteps sent her gaze drifting upwards to see who was approaching. By instinct alone,her mind reached out to link with the person in front of her; but just as quickly a chill ran down her spine at the lack of her ability to. A moment later, the reason unearthed itself as Rosemary stepped up in front of her and just as quickly began questioning her.

Solveig slowly bowed her head in a measure of respect before the snowshoe's head lifted again for her violet gaze to find Rosemary's own, her jaw faintly working as she faintly cleared her throat, as if that would help her voice in any measure. "No, ma'am," the answer came, her voice hoarse and whispery, making Solveig faintly grimace, a simple shift in her jaw as she quickly masked it. "...The salt has not been good for my paws," she continued, her irritation and uneasiness growing the more she desperately tried to breech Rosemary's mind, to gain some control back in this situation, even if her gaze was otherwise calm.

Solveig swallowed, setting the stalk of aloe down in front of her as her paws crossed over each other. "May I help you with something, ma'am?"

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[ROSEMARY]

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She felt the attempt to link with her mind, though she discarded them. Now that she knew Solveig used telepathy so often, she found herself prepared to meet the mental intrusion with her own shields - given she wanted to meet the telepath, it seemed silly not to come prepared. Her attention drifted, for the moment, away from thinking about the ongoing assault on her mental defenses to the smaller feline's question. More specifically, how the other woman chose to address her with enough formality that made Rosemary second-guess if she came across as too much of a combat medic.

As the youngest of her coven and now a witch among pirates, this occasion marked the first time anyone called her anything other than her regular name. How decidedly odd. "Rosemary is fine, I'm not your superior," she stated, a twitch of her ears the only mark of her amusement over this oddity. Soon enough, however, her attention drifted back to the continuous taps on her mind, as it appeared Solveig didn't understand the word no. Gritting her jaw, she flashed her teeth as a slight growl came from deep within her throat. She forgot all about the plant now, her attention directed fully to the issue she came to talk about - as it seemed to increase in priority.

"I haven't consented to a mind-link, so I would appreciate it if you were to stop bludgeoning my mind with your tapping," she hissed, her words far more polite than her tone otherwise implied. Her toes flexed, claws poking out of their sheathes as she found herself growing increasingly irate. Tail-tips lashing behind her, she continued, "Now, I want to get along with you, because you're part of the Typhoon now. But I'm not going to tolerate brushing minds with someone that can't get the meaning of no through their head, so you can either stop willingly or I can make you stop."

In truth, she doubted her abilities in a mental fight - though she certainly knew how to use telepathy and mental manipulations, she never used them offensively against another skilled user. Most of her experience came with trying to fix her mother's mind or the mischevious pranks she pulled on Caesar. If that failed, though, she planned on escalating the situation or outright avoiding the telepath; no matter the case, she would follow through with her threat if needed.

[SOLVEIG]

Perhaps it was odd that Solveig garnered more respect to people than perhaps most did, addressing them by title, whatever title they might have had, or at least that Solevig had knowledge of. Solveig's ears flicked at the correction to the title in any case, her head slowly dipping in acknowledgment to the fact, though she did not physically reply to such. Rosemary then. That was fine enough with her. As it were, the ice between them only grew more frosty.

At the growl from Rosemary, however, her head lifted a little higher to regard the woman, her jaw tensing faintly at the scolding that soon followed. Of course she hadn't consented to a mind-link; Solveig wasn't even given a chance to explain the use of telepathy, and quite frankly, speaking the matter wasn't worth the pain of it all. That being said, her gaze dropped as Rosemary's claws poked out from her paws, inhaling slowly before she let the breath out quietly, steeling herself while she lay there still, her paws still daintily crossed over one another. Solveig pushed her mind far away, staring blankly ahead as the answer came in that hoarse voice of hers, barely managing above a whisper, almost automatic and monotone. "Yes, Rosemary."

Was this satisfying to the other woman? To have some level of power over her? To try and berate her all over her telepathy? While Solveig retracted her attempts of telepathy on the woman at her continued insistence of such, her mind now completely retreating, the threat that followed made Solveig's head tip softly to one side. Her violet eyes briefly shone, and the snowshoe slowly rose to her paws as she regarded Rosemary idly. "Captain Pincher would not approve," the answer followed, the attempt to raise her voice higher met with another faint grimace of pain to flicker across the shine of her eyes.

Of course, were it that Solveig tried much harder, she had little doubt that she could eventually breach Rosemary's mental defenses- of course at some likely expesne of energy and mental strain to herself- but threats like this? It was unamusing, and frankly brought back memories of similar words spoken to her that she did not want to remember. "You have your... wish," she answered, though her tail faintly lashed at the injustice, though Solveig would not be the one today to start this fight, as much as she so wished it. "A fight is pointless... You hurt me already," she pointed out idly, faintly clearing her throat at the end of her words as the smile briefly flickered a little higher on her face as she dipped her head.

Let her be the diplomat. She knew when to back down.

"I will forgo the gift of the Goddess for you. Is there anything else?"

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[ROSEMARY]

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The ocelot's claws snapped back into their sheathe, as a deep sneer flashed across her muzzle for a brief moment. She regained her usual graceful composure quickly enough, as Solveig's words only further convinced her of the differences between them. "I doubt my brother would approve of you talking about a mental assault the same way a gigolo speaks of his dick," she spat back, the comparison fitting well in her mind. Anyone who thought an unwanted intrusion, of any sort, was a gift needed their head checked out. "And if I hurt you in defense of my own mind, then so be it. Stop whining about this gift you give to everyone, like a common whore. You treat the gift of mental intimacy like a prostitute cheapens physical intimacy - yet you don't even have the sense to back down when politely refused," she added, disdain breaking through the usual cloudy apathy of her raspy voice.

"Telepathy is the gift of mind-melding with another so that you become close enough to surpass words - to communicate raw feelings is the height of mental magic. Without mental magic, it would be impossible to fully convey feelings of love or hatred, to understand implicitly those very things that would otherwise stay caged inside our head as we yearn for connection. Yet you treat this gift the same as a child treats their voice, flinging words into peoples' vicinities without their permission and getting your sticky fingers in every nook and cranny," she continued, laying into the healer with a bit of her own mind, metaphorically the same as Solveig's previous mental attempts. Her frown deepened as she continued, "And you do this all without warning, without even asking. You can't work with this raw connection without a strong underlying layer of trust - yet you don't even share your name before smacking others with a connection to the very core of their being."

Her orange gaze narrowed marginally, as she issued an almost challenging look to the snowshoe. "It's not a gift if the recipient doesn't want it - you should've learned that a long time ago," she stated with enough frost that the water particles in the air lowered in temperature by a few degrees.

[SOLVEIG]

Well, this was off to a great start. Solveig sat in a stony frozen silence as Rosemary began her rant, her shoulders faintly tensing as she braced herself to endure the onslaught of what she presumed to be insults and battery, perhaps more threats, or maybe even a phyiscal slap. She could take it. She had taken it before. By different people. By people she trusted. But how was this any different? Even the way she spoke about Pincher set her on edge. If only she knew. But that's okay- Solveig would take care of that too. Pincher would be protected from her. Pincher wouldn't have to deal with his sister, knowing about them. Rosemary wouldn't have to know anything at all.

"I am not.... metaphorical, Rosemary." Solveig so carefully dared to speak, her voice gravelly and gritted the more she tried to voice the words. Even Solveig wasn't that good of an actress- she hesitated at the blunt accusation that she was some level of a whore, a mental rapist for the lack of better words, but she said nothing. Perhaps it was simply because she did not want to escalate it. Perhaps it was because she felt nothing. Maybe her voice had finally failed her. But oh was she seething inside at those words, to belittle her. She felt her teeth sink into the side of her cheek, though her head only canted softly at the words as she dipped her head, as if she were accepting the notion.

But in actuality it was to keep her gaze lower, so that any trace of emotion that would fail in her eyes would not be seen by Rosemary as she closed her eyes, submissive to the other woman. To think she had been trying to impress her. To gain her favor, and yet to be spit at like she was no more than a grain of dirt. No, she could take it. It wasn't as if her own family had thought any better of her. It was why she had made a promise to herself never to be with anyone ever again. Pincher had changed that. The tide had changed that, and what a mistake it was.

"Don't you dare... lecture me on my own Magic!" the words were spit faintly, but her voice did not raise at all, if anything, the more she tried to, the more her voice faltered, barely able to make it through the sentence before her shoulders slightly hunched, bracing herself through the pain burning in her throat as she softly dug her paws into the sand beneath her. Calm. Be calm. Pain was getting the best of her, seethed with anger at the words. Were it anyone else, she would have said nothing, but this was Rosemary.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and a faint prod of her tongue confirmed her thoughts that she had bit into her cheek a bit too firmly. This was all too familiar for her liking. Just replace Rosemary with her father, and what difference was there really? "You have... my word I will no-" She struggled with the words, her voice becoming no more than a wheeze at the end of it. Her mouth was still working, trying to form the words with a breathy exhale, her head ever so slightly lifting in the attempt to speak, the frustration gleaming over her eyes as her voice wouldn't work. A flash of blood shined over her pearly teeth.

What was the point?

The challenging look that Rosemary gave was met with a rather surprising look of defeat. It was not a normal look for Solveig, one that she would never speak of again. But Rosemary had made her point clear on her telepathy, and her voice had failed- nor would she stand to be abused any longer. Instead, as her jaw closed and her words stopped completely, the snowshoe would slowly reach her paws forward before she sunk her head and chest into a low bow. The action itself confirmed the defeat, even for the ice that filled the air and chilled the area around them.

You're weak, Solveig, her own bitter words insisted, chiding her. Mocking her. What had she done to get here only to be met with the same fate that she had so long ago? Her throat crushed, her pride ruined, betlitted by everyone- though in this case Rosemary- over anything she did. There was no point. Her anger was slowly melting away into a tenseness in her throat. She wouldn't fight her family any more. And by proxy, Rosemary was family.

So the snowshoe rose some long moments later, her face wiped clean of any expression as she met Rosemary's gaze calmly, still every bit that porcelain woman that she had been since the day she had arrived here. That, Solveig was determined, would never be taken away from her. So she stood, quietly. Waiting for more abuse, or for her ultimate dismissal.

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[ROSEMARY]

ROSEMARY ROUX

When thinking of descriptors for the ocelot, 'kind' and 'generous' probably wouldn't number on the top ten of that list - especially when she liked to return every slight, no matter how small, sevenfold. She called herself a medic because she chose that path for herself, but Rosemary's mind wasn't built for it. Her family-coven knew that; she, even, knew it. So when she saw Solveig in this defeated state, the pale wildcat thought nothing else of it. Indeed, this seemed an appropriate reaction to chastising, though she would have preferred less backtalking - especially from someone who seemed to find it harder and harder to speak.

The witch watched dispassionately, with only a hint of morbid curiosity, as the snowshoe's mouth continued to try and produce words without any result. At first, she assumed the other woman simply lost her voice from fear or some other normal matter, but as the seconds dragged on and blood came out, Rosemary realized something a bit worse than anxiety struck the smaller female down.

A coiling darkness slithered out of her mind, rearing its ugly head now, as it often did when blood and agony appeared in front of her. But she ignored her inner heathen, long accustomed to ignoring her sadism for smaller matters like this. A soft sigh escaped the ocelot's lips as she realized this was likely a key component why Solveig pushed so hard for her right to speak with telepathy - Rosemary thought that bit about speaking real words being painful was just a stupid throw-away comment. Her eyes narrowed into an annoyed and exasperated expression, as her raspy voice neutrally stated, "You should've explained your condition, rather than letting me infer incorrectly about you; here I thought it was simply a choice for you to speak telepathically." Annoyed, realizing that entire chunks of her rage were misplaced, a complete waste of time and energy, she flicked her forked tail irritably behind her.

She sighed again, growing increasingly frustrated with this situation. Regardless of Solveig's actual need to speak telepathically, that didn't budge Rosemary's stance on refusing telepathic connections from what amounted to a complete stranger. If she were to link her mind with another, she wouldn't go halfway; the link would be expected to fully convey everything. After all, accidental 'leaks' could pop through a regular telepathic link anyway, and thus she couldn't trust her own mind not to spill its secrets and fears to someone she couldn't trust with them. Her innate sadism was one of those important pieces; after all, she saw Solveig the most when they were needed to attend to a patient, and times like those were when that black blot on her mind slithered into her thoughts.

After a pause, she finally supposed she might have a solution to their problem. Whether they liked it or not, the two of them were co-workers and expected to cooperate - communication couldn't be ignored. "Can you read and write? I can teach you if you can't; that might prove a decent... compromise," Rosemary suggested, her tail lashing fading into occasional twitches of her tail tips. Gritting her teeth as her jaw muscles clenched, she grumbled out, "I apologize for my... venom. I should have paid closer attention to your pain when speaking. That being said, I can't allow anyone inside my mind that I can't trust." If it wasn't obvious, the ocelot hated apologizing; she hated being wrong, and apologizing was the ultimate way of being wrong - but not apologizing in this case would feel wrong, and so she took the less 'wrong' approach to all this. What a headache.

© MADI