IC contact; MoM

[notsheepish]

Hey there, it's Ruby, or will be soon. Leave a message, I'll get back to you.

Comments

[pejoratives]

Rings, huh.

( she squints.

Rosita is good at squinting. And judging. And she is also very good at kicking water at someone to splash them, and somehow making it seem sarcastic. )

Nah.

[notsheepish]

[Wow. Rude. She narrows her eyes and begins plotting her revenge very visibly.]

Anyway, you get the point. Queens and knights and no indoor plumbing and all that good stuff.

[pejoratives]

( No. )

That last part is familiar. ( Unfortunately. ) So kind of like every fantasy book, then. Kind of like how this place is weird sci-fi and comic-book bullshit?

[notsheepish]

Sure. Something like that.

[pejoratives]

You don't seem the "ye olde" type.

[notsheepish]

Because I lived in Maine for a long time after that, eating frozen lasagna and watching bad TV just like everybody else.

[pejoratives]

( Rosita isn't sure what she expected or wanted to hear, but somehow the response she gets doesn't satisfy all the remaining questions. Probably a by-product of being dissatisfied with just about everything to do with how they would up here, how this world differs and has too much in common with her own.

It's all a mess. Her hands settle on her hips, and she frowns as her gaze drops to the ground. )

Huh.

[notsheepish]

[She's not really sure what to make of that response.]

It's... kind of a long, weird story. Maybe the next time I've got about 6 hours to spare, I could almost manage to get through the whole thing.

[pejoratives]

( Rosita isn't sure what to make of all the information, in truth. She stays quiet a long while, before looking at Ruby and tilting her head, opting to sit down on the wet sand so that the come and go of the sea inevitably washes over her feet and her legs, anchoring her hands in the weight of the sand at her sides.

Eventually, )

That sounds intense. ( And she shakes her head a little. ) Back home people don't really talk about the past. It's... sort of like picking stitches that aren't ready to come out. Stupid and— painful.

( But she looks at Ruby, then, even if the sunlight makes her squint a little. ) If you do ever wanna talk about it, though.

( Then I'll listen. An offer, albeit a poorly delivered one. )

[notsheepish]

Thanks. [She smiles as she sits as well, but there's a something a bit uncertain to it, as she thinks of all the reasons telling her whole life's story might be a bad idea. As she wonders if it ever won't feel like that.]

The same goes for you, you know. If there's ever anything you want to talk about... I'm around.

[pejoratives]

( A little smile, a slight upward lift of her head. )

I'll remember. ( She might not take Ruby up on it right away, but she'll remember. And she will take her up on it, eventually.

In the meantime she puts her hands behind her hands, and slowly falls back onto the sand, enduring the warmth. )