07-09-2024, 02:58 PM
ROSEMARY ROUX
Rosemary had been running errands—restocking supplies, investigating herbal supplychains—and that involved walking down the cobbled streets of Fort Crom. Halfway lost in thought, the apothecary walked by the alley. She glanced in and saw Ares’s feathers. Kept walking. And then she blinked, circled back, and watched the confrontation.
Rosemary asked herself: if her father were apothecary and wanted to remove this crowd of imbecile looky-loos, what would he do? He’d bonk them with shame, of course. But how? The ocelot licked her teeth, inhaled.
The ocelot stepped into the alley. She clicked her tongue in disapproval, which drew the attention of the canines ooing and awing over Ares.
“How uncivilized,” Rosemary said.
A sheepdog bristled. He bared his teeth. “What do you—”
A dalmatian poked his shoulder. “Shut up, that’s the apothecary.”
Rosemary’s four eyes slid to the sheepdog. “Apothecary. And sister to Lady Rosencrantz.” Her amber gaze narrowed. She stared down the sheepdog until his gaze dropped to his paws.
Rosemary hesitated. This was working? This was easy.
Then, the ocelot inhaled and swept her gaze to each of the five. “This isn’t kindergarten show and tell. Frankly, I’d expect better manners from kindergarteners. Scram.”
They hesitated. Which infuriated her. Then, when one of them met her gaze and shivered, she realized they were too scared to leave with her standing in the middle of the alley, blocking their way. So she stepped aside.
Immediately, the five dogs trotted out at various gaits. The sheepdog fled the fastest. Huh. Spurred by guilt?
Rosemary shook her head to clear out her thoughts. Then looked to Ares. Rosemary had no idea what the feathered Utahraptor was doing napping in the alley, but she appeared unhurt and (relatively) unbothered. “You okay, Ares?” she asked.
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?