07-29-2018, 09:20 PM
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
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?