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rosemary may have lumped herself in the 'idiot adventurer' category, but she doesn't think she's that much of an idiot. who runs blindly past open caskets and grasping, incorporeal arms?[break][break]

people who don't survive horror movies, that's who.[break][break]

"are you insane?" rosemary hisses into the dark, her eyes blown wide and her breath ragged and puffy. sweat gathers at her temples as she gestures wildly down the hallway. "they're gonna... curse us! or something!"[break][break]

every part of her body, every wretched inch, begs her to return from whence she came. this is no home for her. it is her burial ground, and it seeks her blood. if there were any sign to leave while the going is good, this is one of them.[break][break]

but looking into vespa's eyes, bright and confident and daring, rosemary happens upon many fundamental truths. first, rosemary is a coward. a weak-willed, craven, terrified coward. she would sooner run at the first sign of trouble than bear through any necessary evil. it is why she bows to her father's every whim, it is why she does his bidding, it is why she weaponizes a war, it is why her hands are permanently stained red.[break][break]

second, rosemary is certain vespa would go ahead without her, even if rosemary did turn tail.[break][break]

third, rosemary could never forgive herself if she abandoned vespa to this, admittedly, very stupid fate.[break][break]

the decision is made. rosemary has officially drawn herself into a corner. her lungs ache for salvation.[break][break]

"oh gosh," she stammers, hardly believing that she is about to agree. "oh my goodness. okay. fine. let's go."[break][break]

and, before she can change her mind, rosemary clasps vespa's hand in her own clammy palm and spurs into motion, dragging them both down the hallway at a breakneck speed.

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despite herself, rosemary feels her tense shoulders lowering at the sound of reassurance. whatever strange twist of fate brought this stranger to her aid, she counts herself among the fortunate. a tiny smirk graces her lips at the promise of a good deed brightening her weary spirits.[break][break]

the air leaves her lungs in a relieved sigh as calliope dives right into action, managing to unearth the spare tire from beneath the floorboard with little hesitation—and with a hearty dose of patience, it seems.[break][break]

as calliope leans over to nudge her conspiratorially, rosemary's fingers twitch into her palm at the sly wink accompanying the whispered secret the trunk holds. warmth blooms in her chest, unbidden, and for half a heartbeat, guilt edges away entirely.[break][break]

"thank you, calliope," she says, rolling the sound around in her mouth like caramel. rare moments where kindness trumps suspicion warms her in a way that can't be quantified. "for both your help and your discretion."[break][break]

with the trunk lid closing solemnly behind the mess it once housed, rosemary takes a steady breath, feeling lighter somehow. they need only change the tire now, a task that now seems monumentally less stressful with an extra set of hands helping her. on the way to the flat tire, rosemary's mind is hard at work in deciding a good repayment for the kindness lent to her.[break][break]

"i'd like to repay you somehow," the woman mentions, voice tinged by something bright and warm. "are you in need of anything?"

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every detail that presents itself to rosemary sings a siren song of allure—the tantalizing sights, sounds, smells, textures that accompany discovery are too intoxicating to resist fully. her hands itch with anticipation as they creep through the tombs, hungry as her eyes are greedy. she drinks up every sensation, soaks in every arcane secret, her heart pounding in tandem with her footfalls as she trails after vespa, silent save for occasional hushed murmurings between the two.[break][break]

and all the while, as the two explore, rosemary cannot shake the sensation that they are being followed—worn footsteps that have tread this path countless times, the weight of spirits trailing after her. she clenches her fists unconsciously, nails digging crescent indentations into her palms that fade swiftly, only for her hand to brush against the worn leather hilt of her holstered gun.[break][break]

this strange sensation ebbs to reveal, after a moment, the silhouette of a cloaked figure seated atop one of many worn stone coffins, robed and enshadowed. as vespa reaches out to brush one ornamented surface reverently, rosemary senses something change in her peripheral, the atmosphere growing dense and heavy. dark energy crackles through the stale, sanctified air, raising hairs and eliciting a choked cry from rosemary.[break][break]

without thinking, she snatches her gun from its holster and levels it at the source of that horrible sensation.[break][break]

in her blind panic, rosemary shouts: "don't move or i'll—"[break][break]

but vespa's face says it all: there's nothing corporeal to shoot. rosemary lowers her weapon, blinking rapidly at vespa. "...what was that?"[break][break]

and it's as if on cue: a symphony of scraping stone on stone, each lid grinding open in perfect sync, revealing shadowy shapes that slowly unfold and stretch in a mockery of life. rosemary backs away until her back hits wall. as the shapes coalesce and take form, rosemary is pinned by an overwhelming sensation—[break][break]

—something terrible is coming, and there's nowhere left to go.

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she knows what they say about her father, her family, her legacy. rosemary lovelace—a girl surrounded by blood from birth, her hands dipped in crimson before she was old enough to understand what that color meant.[break][break]

there is a quiet resignation in her eyes, a bone-deep weariness that even youth cannot stave off, because the rumors are all true and there is no way for her to escape them. not really. every contract signed is a reminder of the families torn apart by weapons made by her own hands, a haunting refrain of the death and sorrow that lovelace ballistics has brought into this world.[break][break]

when neon speaks of hoenn and it's terrors, the images rise unbidden before rosemary's eyes. she has witnessed these horrors firsthand—seen the destruction that can be wrought by power that cannot be tamed, that should not be tamed, but is enslaved nonetheless by those desperate to have the might of gods at their fingertips.[break][break]

it is a nightmare she can neither wake from nor escape. she has sworn to do right by her father and by the company that bears her name, and she is in no position to deny an opportunity that has fallen into her lap. her father grows impatient, after all.[break][break]

she licks her lips, seeking the right words. "what are the 'benefits'?" she broaches first, then pauses and narrows her eyes. "and what is the nature of your organization? what will our assets be used for?"

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"oh—" her voice, not a whisper, yet not daring to reach louder than that, stretches between them before it fades. rosemary regards vespa with careful eyes, weighing options, risks, consequences, her father's voice drilling into her ear over what's best for the company, for her health, for the war. as her eyes drift from vespa's face to the ghost beside her and then back, rosemary feels that gnawing worry in her chest lessen and a half-forgotten warmth takes its place.[break][break]

she finds herself in an exhale. a grin. a light laugh, soft and short as it is, still foreign as it breaks past the barrier of her lips. her hand lowers the lamp, and then her fingers unclasp from the gun entirely. she can feel the cold, still present at her back.[break][break]

"yeah," she agrees, hoping that this does not show how desperately she wants this. "yeah, i'd like that. if you don’t mind the company of another idiot adventurer."

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the way he seems so genuinely interested in her other talents causes a wave of nervous energy that she tries her hardest to bottle up to keep her hands from shaking. she swallows thickly.[break][break]

"i like gardening a lot," she admits, remembering her greenhouse at home and feeling a pang of homesickness for kanto. "and i make a lot of terrariums."[break][break]

she pauses as she recalls the very big project for miss ameena abadi, and her face briefly falls into concentration as she recalls the next steps to be taken, before she is jolted back into the conversation by his offer to help her carry the basket. startling back to earth, rosemary is quick to nod, and she uses both hands to hold it out to him.[break][break]

"oh, sure, thank you," she stammers. "only if you'd like."[break][break]

she glances around the garden, and bare branches greet her. she supposes she's had her fill—she'd better leave some for the other people who had helped to curate the garden with her.[break][break]

"ah... do you mind carrying to back to my car?"

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there’s a warmth that blooms in rosemary’s chest at his interest and stomach’s wordless input. it makes the skin around her eyes crinkle as her smile lifts higher. the sound of his voice asking her for details on how she does her baking - an art - is one of the most soothing sounds she’s ever heard.[break][break]

"yeah, when i have the time," she blushes, scratching her shoe against a piece of the ground. "baking is another art i really love to do. it's very soothing to me."[break][break]

but suddenly, she’s hit with a pang of sadness. she had loved to bake for her mother. the memories of her mother, a frail but resilient woman, had all but crumbled away as time passed, and the thought is sobering.[break][break]

but rosemary straightens, mentally dusting herself off with the determination of someone wanting to rid themselves of bad vibes, and she nods, interested by montgomery's insight.[break][break]

"i've heard of landorus," she says, listening with a newfound respect for the culture that he comes from. "i love myths like that. they're just as important to humanity as the harvests, i think. the connection we hold to the land and to the mythic creatures... it's very beautiful and strong."[break][break]

rosemary nods, eyes glimmering with fascination. she could study the intricacies and stories of each region for months, she thought.[break][break]

"maybe it's not wishful thinking," she assures with a smile, tilting her basket in her arms so that one arm can hold it. "maybe landorus does bless us with bountiful harvests like this. i think it's a nice thought."

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a small smile plays on rosemary's lips as she watches him swipe his hands against his jeans, imagining it to be dirt, not at all aware it is a product of her own nervous clamminess. in that small act, even if imagined, makes her feel more at ease, like she is in calm company that does not bother with rigid propriety, as she has grown accustomed to. it makes her feel human. there's a sense of warmth that blooms in her chest cavity, and it takes everything for her not to physically clutch at it with glee.[break][break]

"some, but not all," rosemary finally replies, smiling as she glances at the ground and then back at him. "some berries make great preserves. pecha jam is one of my favorites. and oran berries go surprisingly well in a cake."[break][break]

she straightens up, looking around at the nearly depleted patch of trees around them. rosemary herself hadn't expected there to be any fruits left before the winter, but hoenn always seemed to have a surprise up it's beautifully warm sleeve.[break][break]

"this is one of my favorite places ever," she admits with a shift of her shoulders. "it's so beautiful. and, so amazing that the land will nurture and care for us so long as we offer it the same privilege. i'm very thankful."

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rosemary, usually trying her best to be composed, now lays on the ground in a heap, breathing heavily as embarrassment colors her skin pinker than her hair. she takes the large hand with her slender one, her palm clammy from nerves.[break][break]

she nods, swallowing her heart that had found a sudden interest in her throat. "i'd, uh, appreciate it," she replies breathlessly, staggering back to her feet with his aid and taking back her basket with an ever so slight hand shake. "thank you."[break][break]

she lets him scoop for the moment, unsure of how to help with hands full of her own basket. to her, such a kind gesture is unfathomable, especially considering how strange rosemary must be acting now. the berries here were enough to feed multiple families.[break][break]

to keep herself occupied and to make room for new branches of berries to be reached, she crouches down once more, carefully picking up fallen ones and giving them a gentle rub before they join their brothers and sisters in her basket. rosemary had always been diligent. if they were bruised, she would dry them. she'd let no part of these divine gifts go to waste. the world worked that way, she figured. one either took care of it, or let it fall apart. there was no in-between.[break][break]

she stole glances at him through locks of pink, curious as to his story as he stooped to scoop berries for a girl he hardly knew.[break][break]

"um," she begins, cautiously, as if gauging whether to introduce herself, before continuing. "i'm rosemary. what's your name?"

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the season had changed overnight, bringing crisp air in to take up the space where late summer heat used to linger. it seems impossible, but the plants that thrive around this time of year, like oran and leppa, are now weighted heavy with ripe fruit, with warm color peeking between leaves as the branches of the trees around the public garden sag lower under autumn's influence.[break][break]

rosemary took a break from her regular routine of work to soak in the sights and sounds of the world around her. harvesting berries is something she truly loves, and she feels guilty for having the desire to leave behind her family's legacy for something so simple, peaceful, quiet.[break][break]

she lifts a basket up from where it had been resting at her feet and holds it in one arm as she stands beneath a particularly laden tree. the other hand delicately plucks the ripe, bright orbs from the branches around her, and rosemary holds her breath. it's like something out of a dream or a fairytale.[break][break]

she is entranced, and the gentle plip, plip, plip of berries falling into her basket is hypnotizing. but the spell is broken the moment an unfamiliar voice speaks behind her, and rosemary couldn't be more caught off guard. her arms are still outstretched to balance against the swaying of the tree, and she whips around with wide eyes and a strangled sound of surprise. the basket falls out of her fingers, berries scattering, and to make the moment more humiliating, rosemary's foot comes down hard on a fallen fruit. time seems to freeze for a moment as she overbalances with cartoonish timing before landing hard upon the damp earth with an undignified 'oof'.

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the last time rosemary had been surprised by an intruder she'd been eleven, home alone, and very, very sure she was about to be kidnapped or murdered. the girl had been her cousin, elizabeth, who had mistaken her for the murderer she was so sure loomed in the house that afternoon and let out a bloodcurdling scream that had attracted her father's security, which then had to sort out the chaos that had ensued in rosemary's quiet afternoon home alone.[break][break]

as then, as she is now, her grip does not loosen on the gun. it wavers slightly as her heart throbs between beats, but she finds in the girl's voice what she needs to stay her hand.[break][break]

a light flicks on, and rosemary blinks rapidly at its sudden radiance, even as it remains pointed away from either's eyes. in its eerie glow she sees a girl not unlike herself, haloed by the wind-tousled strands of obsidian. wide, expressive, and very afraid green eyes find her own, and rosemary's chest eases just a bit. something in the girl's face tells her that she, too, had found herself where she had least expected, led by the ghosts of some whim or curiosity.[break][break]

"i'm—i'm rosemary," she answers finally, taking a shaky step forward, then another, until she's close enough to see the whites of the girl's eyes without the aid of anything but the weak lamp's glow and the other girl's phone screen. "i'm sorry i threatened to shoot you." she glances over her shoulder, as though expecting to find some great beastie or demon at her back, snarling for her to finish her thought. she doesn't find any.[break][break]

when she turns back to vespa, it's with a face that is apologetic in nature, if still somewhat wary. "um... what brings you to this... abandoned tomb?"

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