Rᴏsᴇ Lᴀʟᴏɴᴅᴇ ☼ Sᴇᴇʀ ᴏғ Lɪɢʜᴛ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aggrievance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
asgardeventide2012-03-24 11:59 pm
aggrievance) wrote in asgardeventide2012-03-24 11:59 pm
Two ☼ Video
[Rose doesn't tend to use video or voice feeds, but this one is for a special occasion. The video feed clicks on to Rose...simply sitting in her room, a cup of tea in her hand, and nothing more. The bracelet seems to be sitting on a nearby table. There's a tenseness to her, though, a strange, tight-lipped look.
This lasts a few minutes, actually. It's hard to see, but she appears to be gripping the teacup so tightly that her knuckles are turning white.
She takes a long drink from the cup in her hand, draining it entirely, before setting it back down. She casts a look to the clock in her room. Four minutes. Not long now. She turns back to the video, leveling it down again with a gaze.
It's a hard stare. It's an angry one.]
Allow me to extend my gratitude to our ever-benevolent hosts, for their prompt consideration of my request.
I'm sure the purpose of your favor will be duly noted.
[She wants to scream and rage and make the entire city turn in on itself. She could do it. She knows she could. But her Seer's eye showed her such an outburst would be useless. No point in it at all, and it would just make things all the harder for her once she returns.
She will return. She'll be back before the day's over. It's not like she hasn't died before, and with the way her fate is slated, Rose doubts she'll even feel anything.
But the heat and the building pressure still makes her hands shake, and she folds them together even more tightly, eyes never moving from the camera on the video feed.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.]
[It's like a balloon popping. One moment there was Rose- a pretty, blonde girl who couldn't be more than thirteen- and the next there wasn't. Just a loud, wet BOOM and all that was left was a bloody stump where her head would be. Her hands folded neatly in her lap. The white shirt she was wearing splattered red like a makeshift tye-dye or maybe a costume for Halloween. Blood and bone and gore painting morbid stripes through her cluttered room. Had she known she would have been putting on a show, maybe she would have cleaned it; not that it matters now, with the way it looks.
There's an eerie, dead silence as what remained of Rose Lalonde lurched forward and fell to the floor with a dull thud, before the bracelet mercifully cuts the feed.
Perhaps the gods thought their citizens had witnessed enough.]
(OOC: Housemates of Odin are welcome to barge into her room and handle any commenters, and you're all welcome to thread amongst yourselves; Rose left her door unlocked for this occasion.)
This lasts a few minutes, actually. It's hard to see, but she appears to be gripping the teacup so tightly that her knuckles are turning white.
She takes a long drink from the cup in her hand, draining it entirely, before setting it back down. She casts a look to the clock in her room. Four minutes. Not long now. She turns back to the video, leveling it down again with a gaze.
It's a hard stare. It's an angry one.]
Allow me to extend my gratitude to our ever-benevolent hosts, for their prompt consideration of my request.
I'm sure the purpose of your favor will be duly noted.
[She wants to scream and rage and make the entire city turn in on itself. She could do it. She knows she could. But her Seer's eye showed her such an outburst would be useless. No point in it at all, and it would just make things all the harder for her once she returns.
She will return. She'll be back before the day's over. It's not like she hasn't died before, and with the way her fate is slated, Rose doubts she'll even feel anything.
But the heat and the building pressure still makes her hands shake, and she folds them together even more tightly, eyes never moving from the camera on the video feed.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.]
[It's like a balloon popping. One moment there was Rose- a pretty, blonde girl who couldn't be more than thirteen- and the next there wasn't. Just a loud, wet BOOM and all that was left was a bloody stump where her head would be. Her hands folded neatly in her lap. The white shirt she was wearing splattered red like a makeshift tye-dye or maybe a costume for Halloween. Blood and bone and gore painting morbid stripes through her cluttered room. Had she known she would have been putting on a show, maybe she would have cleaned it; not that it matters now, with the way it looks.
There's an eerie, dead silence as what remained of Rose Lalonde lurched forward and fell to the floor with a dull thud, before the bracelet mercifully cuts the feed.
Perhaps the gods thought their citizens had witnessed enough.]
(OOC: Housemates of Odin are welcome to barge into her room and handle any commenters, and you're all welcome to thread amongst yourselves; Rose left her door unlocked for this occasion.)