xxsacrificiumxx

[xxsacrificiumxx]

Starter (Like Here!) for @umbradevore

In another part of the world, in another time, she'd be watching the world she knew burn down ; From its ashes would be reborn another facet of herself, fractured personality pieces that struggle to define their individuality made from learned behaviors of people that left her behind.

In another part of the world, Rosita Roselyn dies in that fire, and Rosie Valentine awakens to mark one of the most miserable portions of her early life. Caring for Nikki, with a bloody trail that follows and drips from her lips and teeth, down her limbs and trickles from her fingertips. Blood, she can never seem to wash away, that stains everything she touches, everything she loves.

In another life, she's a feral thing that only ever craved for someone in this world to want her. To Love her. To Protect her. And she would waste a lifetime chasing that dream ; Suffering for it.

Suffer she did.

Watched as it all slip through her fingers like grains of sand , all that she had worked so hard to preserve gone in a blink.

Her world, her dimension devastated by the grief of a child who never received her justice.

In her final moments of screaming for all that she lost , her powers , with its anguish and mourning, rips her strings and allows her to start again.

Different place, different time.

In hopes, just maybe, she could do things differently. She could make a change.

In this lifetime, in this place, thousands of miles away from her other (if she managed to even live at all in this lifetime), Rosita Roselyn is no longer a figure of significance. She is not the Unbreakable Sphinx. She is not the daughter of Roland Valentine nor the sister of Alexander Hidalgo. Not the mother of Miriam, Caradox, or Malakaid. Nor a wife of any kind. Still trapped in the body of her 30s.

Here , she is simply Rosie.

A Lonesome but maternal figure who lives alone with her large bird and cares for this forgotten neighborhood in the boroughs of New York. Her house from before traded in for a run-down apartment she made cozy for herself. Her life of secrecy traded in for a homely lifestyle of community she had never known before when she had been burdened by responsibility . And she finds that she rather likes this lifestyle more than she had anything else. Including her peculiar neighbor, she never quite got to meet formally.

That evening, the lady Moon shuffles down the coordior of her apartment complex, a warm batch of chocolate chip cookies gently steaming in tupperware in her cradling hands. Rosie had never had a reason to greet this particular neighbor, but that did not mean she had never heard of him. Doctor lucas ; A reputably kind doctor that treated the residence of their little piece to medical care they otherwise could not afford for a meager wage. Sometimes, in exchange for something that no one ever really disclosed. She'd watch men, women, and children alike through her door come in and out of that place, but only now did she have a reason to meet him herself. Upon reaching the door, beneath her shawl, her feline ears shift ever so slightly in their cover, searching for sound beyond the foyer. Evidence of a presence of occupancy from more than just the singular doctor. She shifts the tupperwear to one hand, balancing and supporting it against the crook of her hip, and tentatively knocks with the back of her hand.

" Mr. Lucas, are you busy at the moment?"

[xxsacrificiumxx]

I HOPE EVERYONE HAS BEEN ALRIGHT

I wanna get back into writing, so im gonna start answering old threads ans make a tentative comeback..

If youre still around, give this a like and lets plot out something ♡

[xxsacrificiumxx]

janet fitch, white oleander / things or things with alexandra jacob - viscera collection, 2016 / brynne rebele-henry, “self-biography as a false saint” / ashley blanton - dendrite, 2013 / safiya sinclair, “notes on the state of virginia ii” / harry paul ally - figures collection, 21st c. / nicole homer, “underbelly” / ana teresa barboza - modos de vestir series, 2009 / carmen maria machado, “the lost performance of the heigh priestess of the temple of horror” / carrie (1976) / anne carson, plainwater: essays and poetry

a woman is a wound

[xxsacrificiumxx]

Headcanon of the day: Kisses that rot

Its been circling my brain about the note that rosie finds kisses to her cheeks, forehead, neck, and corner of her lips more Intimate than a blatant mouth kiss

And it stems from being sexually abused at such a young age, getting kissed in the mouth was such a violating and demeaning thing to endure but it's part of the act just to stay alive. It's been soured to her. Kissing the lips feels like a lustful and dirty thing , it feels awful if she hasn't established a sense of security with someone. It's punishing

In contrast the kisses to her forehead, cheek, or neck feel more genuine and meaningful. It feels safe, like you're not trying to eat her alive. You care for her, not just her body

She kisses the lips out of obligation because that's kind of the romantic standard, but she feels much more endearment if you kiss her cheek or forehead. After years being kissed on the lips is more of a sense of urgency and Intimacy only for them to have with each other

[xxsacrificiumxx]

“If you saw her in these moments, you might think she was collecting her thoughts in order to go forward. But I see it another way: Her mind is being overwhelmed by two processes that must simultaneously proceed at full steam. One is to deal with and live in the present world. The other is to re-experience and mourn something that happened long ago.”

— Steve Martin, The Pleasure of My Company

[xxsacrificiumxx]

Hello everyone if you ship with me this is what to expect from Rosie.

Your muse is probably bad for her and she really likes that

[xxsacrificiumxx]

My fav motiff for rosie is a banished angel that crawls out of hell. Her entire existence is an agonizing path seeking some semblance of redemption through painful retribution and self sacrifice. To go so far as fire being a defining symbol of her character changing and emerging as something new.

Including being burned alive at some point within the story, to which she has to scrub the burned flesh raw in order for the open wound of her entire body to regrow into new flesh. Truly erasing her history and every scar at the cost of misery, but she is changed anew for the last time.

I also like to call her the Scorge of God and Death, going hand in hand in her fallen angel role on the earth. If none will take her then she will be the bane upon the earth of anyone who stands in her way

[xxsacrificiumxx]

@deepseawarlock (continuing here)

Rosita Roselyn had experienced a great many things in her short lifetime: A lifestyle of privilege and education, a life of a mother, a teacher, a whore... and once a lover to a criminal.

Her relationship to Nathair, the father of her son and her captor, had evolved and become more complex than she would have ever liked to admit. She wouldn't have ever called it love, what they had.. but in quiet moments, when the circumstances that forced her under his control are forgotten, there was something comparable to fondness they had for each other. Some level of respect, albeit unspoken but acknowledged that they did care in their own way. For the monster that he was, he somehow did have a heart that cared... Then there were times she was reminded that he was still, in fact, a monster. Her monster. Her tormentor.

Ulysses's reaction to her emotion, to her deep-rooted need to poses and feel like she is the only one he sees, throws her for a loop and sends her spiraling. Fae madness, perhaps. The thing that rots in her blood. Her gaze fixated on his face, nearly panting at the paws that hold her hip and seemingly placate her in a way he cannot see. In another time Rosie would have been met with an abrupt hand around her throat for daring to overstep -- for daring to claim a beast as her own, as if she had any power over him to begin with. Because birthing a child had meant nothing more than to be a means to an end. Nathair was an arrogant man that bowed to no man , nor beast, nor god.. and he would not be claimed or controlled by any woman. Much less by her jealousy.

And yet here this ancient man was, embracing the notion and teasing the thought that he enjoyed her emotions and desire for him as much as she enjoyed his towards herself. She has no reply to his question, hissing a warm breath through barred teeth as he kisses her cheek and sooths her violence. Growling gradually subsides to purring... her clawed hands, daring to dig talons into his pale skin, easing their grip and transforms into a tender caress up his back. There was no need for possession or anger or violence... though Uly may seemed to have enjoyed it. She took comfort in the fact.. that he was hers. And the damn fool was as blind as a bat. His guttural voice whispers in her ear.... and she laughs, deep and sultry in her chest,

" You were suppose to be afraid of me, old man... Not be aroused by it."

Her small hands curb their path, grazing along his back, along his sides til they both meet and rest at the center of his torso. Rosie fixes her gaze to his chest, absently playing with its thin material. The fire, the madness of jealousy and possession is quick to retract back to the depths of her stomach and in its place is a formal woman keeping her well-loved reputation. Her smile is wider than she would like to acknowledge as she flicks her gaze upward to catch his intense stare, his smile brings her heart to flutter in these moments of closeness. She stubbornly snorts to hide it,

" I'd do worse than take your eyes for betraying me, you know. I'd make you quite the pet that no one would look for.... and do terrible terrible things knowing that no one could find you. Punish you until you could think of nothing else but me.."

Her fingertips graze his collar bones and trace upwards, counting the pulse of his jugular, her delicate nails teasingly digging at the skin beneath his jaw. She can envision clearly in her mind, the disheveled state she'd keep him as a wanton man. The same as Nathair had kept her and made her become now. Love was an addictive poison she'd use as needed. She speaks lowly, only for the two of them,

" Is that what you'd like from me, Ulysses?..."

xxsacrificiumxx  is being an absolute menace || Ulysses & Rosie

" Uly..." it comes out silky, a purr from below as her hand begins to wander up his back. Rosie looks up at him with deceptive kindness that don't match the threatening Leer in her eyes, lips curling til fangs poke out on her red lips. Its subtle the way her nostrils flare like a predator, wrinkles of displeasure wrinkling oh so slightly at her forehead and bring out the define dip of her cheek bones.

His eyes are wandering somewhere she can't quite place, and she doesn't trust it. For she is an equally envious creature as she is wrathful. Without shame her slim fingers slip beneath the band of his pants, til her claws dig into his rear and capture him in place. She stops them in their tracks, presses herself against his side, and glides her hands up his chest like a doting wife. But her sharp nails are more of a warning grazing along his clavicles and threatening to dig at his Adam's apple. She licks her lips and tilts her head impishly,

" What has got you so invested, old man? Something you'd like to share? "

-------------------------------------

Ulysses knew about Rosie's more monstrous side, but had yet to completely come across it. It's not that he was going to go out of hsi way to activate it. No, he knew that Rosie had a tumultuous life and was doing his best to make it easier for her. Whether it was looking after Thursday when Rosie had class or business to attend to at night, or ensuring she had a warm meal to come home to, he was being her comfort and that is why he had not seen this side yet.

Therefore, when he did witness it, he felt a chill run up and down his spine. Utter fear, from how he froze and shoulders rolling up in discomfort. He had no intention of turning Rosie into an adversary, because then he will show his other side. The one where instead of trusting his eyes, he can trust his other senses to guide him into taking her down. He'd done it before- how else would a old, lonely man make it all the way to the west and hoard all these riches?

But he didn't want to harm her. That is why if Rosie did want to hurt him for looking at the other enticing women, then he'll let it happen. Perhaps he deserved it. He winced at her nails digging in, and now his smile revealed that there was not just fear, but rising excitement as he witnessed the glorious sight of Rosie the predator.

"Are you so territorial? Why is that? Does it mean you claim me, and you think I belong to you?" He held her by the hips and widened his grin to show a bit of his sharpened teeth to prove that he too had them. "My powerful sphinx, I hope you understand that I can't actually see them that well to ogle properly. Why do I get the feeling you'd claw my eyes out if I do?" He kissed her defined cheekbone, not in attempt to tame her, but allow her to learn that he reveled in this form of hers as well. "My heartbeat hastens. You frightened me with your threat my dear," he suggestively whispered in her ear, "do it again."

@xxsacrificiumxx

[xxsacrificiumxx]

" Corkus, hm? " She repeats the name, tongues at her cheek and wills herself to start storing names to faces in anticipation that she may be among this lot for a while. Rosie smiles, though her eyes follow his movements with a keen awareness of someone hypervigilant. She laughs even more at his chest puffing bravado and licks her lip to respond, " Well, my brave Captain of the Hawks, most people just call me Rosie. Sometimes Sphinx, if you want to want to keep in theme of quirky names. Whatever suits your favor." Her coy behavior seems to lighten up as he stands beside her, easing into the conversation after judging his intent was not harmful to her. Emerging from his pile of scraps, the red eyed raptor raised his grime covered feathered head with half a fish in his serrated beak. Amongst humans the demon familiar had felt very little worry for his safety or that of his mistress -- that much was certain in reflection of Rosie's feelings. Laxed, besides her worry for Guts in the recovery tent. Orpheus stood at Just barely thigh level of corkus and seemed to judge the man with a burning once-over before returning back to gulping down piles of unattended goods.

Rosie glanced back at her familair, initially worried of his squaking, then relieved he was too preoccupied to care about the company they keep. She focuses back on the question at hand : Are you a mercenary by chance? Her hand raises absently to her mouth, gently fingering at her scarred lip and grazing the pink marring along her cheek as she thought of her response. His focus on her armor made her glance at the rusted forearm brace and chuckle sheepishly,

" Not a mercenary, no.. But a girl needs protection, right? I would probably have worse than this messed up face of mine if I didnt.. But i'm glad to know im not the only girl in armor. "

The other girl in armor, A commander, she gathers from his commentary. That peaks her attention. The very same woman she had seen ordered into the tent with Guts before she lost sight of them behind the flaps and dim lighting of the tent. The angel tries to keep her emotions in check, to keep her distracting tail from wagging beneath her cloak and startling the man, but she feels that telling tingle drifting down her spine. Rosie maneuvered herself quickly atop the barrel, flicking the cape behind her and keeping her white tail out of sight as she faces corkus completely. Her hands balance her weight on the edge of the barrel rim and looks up to the mercenary with lashes still fluttering. Her expression playful and inviting, she beams at him,

" So honey, is it normal that your snow white leader tries to kill every person before he recruits them? Or are we just that special? Did you end up bedridden with a lady companion to help you heal too? "

xxsacrificiumxx​:

He will be fine. Just resting within the tents.. when he is awake, we will straighten this out. 

    But being within a camp of mercenaries in the middle ages wasn’t exactly an ideal circumstance to be lying low in. Especially when your natural appearance, and the fact that you are a woman, was a natural call to attention. Nonetheless, the affairs on the hilltop which took her young struggler captive led Rosie to follow close behind.. not that the mercenaries had much of a say in whether she followed or not. She may not have wielded an intimidating blade, but her willingness to stand her ground and the threat to fight otherwise was enough to persuade the group, obviously recovering from a battle loss at a fortress, to not pick another fight. They likely thought of her to be his mother or caretaker of some sort – for now, she would not clarify. 

    Still, Rosie bears scavenged mismatching armor beneath her heavy red cloak, a chimera of poor quality as a not so great testament to her standing in all this. She wandered, she stood, then settled upon a barrel she thought would give her the best view in scouting her surroundings as her back pressed to a tent where Guts rest in the meantime. Even Orpheus, the dog sized bird of prey, hopped around and dug into unattended rations laying behind the barrel. When Rosie looked down at him, she inwardly sighed and rubbed her eyes. Yet another complaint she would likely hear… another reason for her to be disliked and distrusted, probably accused of stealing, or maybe haggled into working to repay the debt of her voracious familiar  The woman is keenly aware of the curious eyes that pass her, her own face hidden well within the shadow of cloth but she studies each on-looker cautiously to take em into account. Most were harmless.. well kept, kind natured albeit in desperate need of a shower. And battle-worn. Beyond that, they seemingly functioned as a reasonable group of hardworking people, rather then money hungry heathens. There were worse groups she could be stuck with.. The matter at hand remains, though; She needs to find a way home. And make sense of the red string that seems lead her back to Guts.

Many may have walked past her, but the last thing she anticipated was someone brave enough to actually approach her without animosity. Rosie almost jumped slightly when Corkus’ voice broke her trail of thoughts, her shoulders squaring and her back straightening as her head whipped towards him with a look of surprise. Without her sunken eyes being obvious, her complexion was considerably youthful, paired with dark pink lips and noticeable smile lines when they tilted into a crooked, timid grin. Prominent fangs poked out of the corners, a jagged pink scar trailed up her cheek, and down the left side of her lip. Rosie debates the tone to take.. then decides to play along. She giggles like a maiden and acts coy, tugging her cloak closer for security,

Rosie chose her voice carefully, speaking higher in her throat than the usual deep maternal sound that came in her more relaxed state. She squirms bashfully upon to barrel, then works her way to face the man. Pulling her hood back just enough to expose her golden eyes into the light, her lips part just a little more to reveal those teeth in her act. Her lashes flutter as she looks the man from head to toe– he was probably similar to her own age. Closer than most, the ever arrogant warrior that used stature to woo the hearts of delicate young girls. Standing at 5′3 had its pros and cons when you forever looked small and cute. The feline pupils dilate and widen with wonder,

“ You look like a very strong man.. You could probably lift me and push me around with ease.. do you have a name, Mr.Warrior ?  You must have been fighting for so long here with this group.. probably very knowledgeable.. could you tell me more about where I am? Who you all are? ” 

The woman was visibly startled by him approaching, but not scared, which he took as good sign. Indeed, she seemed to not mind conversation, giggling like a bashful village girl. Closer look at her, however, made him realize that despite this demeanor she was most likely not a local. Her face, while undeniably cute in features, bore a visible scar. That alone could mean she was a victim of war sometime in her past, like plenty at these difficult times, but a look at mismatched armour poking from under the cloak told a different tale. A woman warrior? The concept could probably make most people gape with astonishment. But not anybody in the Hawks. Corkus merely tilted his head intrigued; it seemed their Casca was less of a rarity than anyone thought.

However, the woman’s attitude was opposite of Casca’s stern seriousness. She sat there fluttering her lashes and smiling to show glinting… fangs? He blinked; must be a light trick, he decided, better not to think about it too much. The mercenary straightened and puffed his chest, pleased with the compliments and wanting to keep the impression .

“Well, you’re certainly not wrong about that, miss. The name’s Corkus, captain in the Band of the Hawk, the best mercenary band in whole of Midland, and you’re currently in our camp.” he boasted, showing around with a sweeping gesture. “A pretty lass is always a welcome guest, an’ if you need anythin’, well, you’ve found a right man. Ask away about anythin’ you want, while we wait for that friend of yours, wonder if I know him. Anyway, I don’t think I know you yet, so, what’s your name, pretty?” he asked as moved to lean his back on the tent next to her and crossed his arms in a casual pose, gotta keep the image going, and it was easier to chat that way.

“Say, you’re not a mercenary by chance, are you? Not everyday you see a woman in armour… well, I mean other than one of our commanders, but that’s beside the point, haha.” he ended with a small laugh, noticing he probably trailed off with that one. 

[xxsacrificiumxx]

Needing all my homies who play Baldur's gate 3 to come plot with my half drow druid baby(Rosie) and big stinky half orc barbarian fighter(Jacob) at your soonest convenience

👉👈

[xxsacrificiumxx]

First post of this blog is a reminder that this cat has so many phantom pains and aches from all the near deaths, actual deaths, and being beaten to an inch of her life that a good indication of her mood for the day is whether she's smoking or not

She doesn't actually like to smoke, she hates the smell, but somehow by having something physical she can touch and pain her helps alleviate the phantom pain in the rest of her body. Just a cursed cat stuck in a broken body with a broken brain that keeps being revived and she's sick of everyone's shit

[xxsacrificiumxx]

Rosie, Keeper of the Evergreen Staff

The Evergreen Staff: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient and wise tree, the Evergreen Staff represents the essence of nature's wisdom and vitality. It is entrusted to the guardian of the fae realm's forests, granting them the ability to commune with plants, control the growth of flora, and maintain the delicate equilibrium of the natural world.

The List of Fae Artifacts

--- @xxsacrificiumxx ---

Rosie's role as the High Lady of the Spring Court and her connection to the realm of Zethela are essential for maintaining the health and balance of her land. As the guardian of the Evergreen Staff, a powerful fae artifact, her responsibilities are heightened. The Evergreen Staff likely possesses significant magical properties that are closely intertwined with nature, growth, and the vitality of the Spring Court.

As the guardian, Rosie would be tasked with protecting and harnessing the power of the Evergreen Staff. The staff may have the ability to channel and amplify her own powers, allowing her to exert even greater control over the land and its natural energies. By wielding the Evergreen Staff, Rosie can ensure the prosperity and well-being of the Spring Court, as the artifact's magic likely enhances her ability to nurture and rejuvenate the land.

However, being the guardian of such an important artifact also comes with great responsibility. Rosie must safeguard the Evergreen Staff from those who might seek to exploit its power or use it for nefarious purposes. She would likely need to make difficult decisions and potentially face challenges from external threats or internal conflicts within the fae community.

In summary, Rosie's role as the High Lady of the Spring Court and her connection to Zethela's land are crucial for maintaining the realm's health. Her appointment as the guardian of the Evergreen Staff further strengthens her position, granting her access to potent magic that can help her fulfill her duties as a protector and nurturer of the Spring Court.

As the guardian of the Evergreen Staff, Rosie may be required to perform certain rituals or practices to properly harness and maintain the power of the artifact. While the specifics of these rituals can vary depending on the lore or mythology of the fictional world in which Rosie exists, here are some common examples of the types of practices she might engage in:

Invocation and Bonding: Rosie may need to perform an initial ritual to establish a connection with the Evergreen Staff. This could involve reciting incantations, offering prayers, or even undergoing a symbolic initiation that binds her to the artifact.

Purification and Cleansing: To ensure the purity and potency of the staff's magic, Rosie might undertake regular purification rituals. This could involve using specific herbs, sacred waters, or other cleansing elements to cleanse both herself and the staff of any negative energies or influences.

Communion with Nature: As the Evergreen Staff is deeply connected to nature, Rosie might need to engage in rituals that involve communing with the natural elements. This could include spending time in sacred groves, conducting ceremonies during seasonal transitions, or connecting with the spirits of the land.

Energy Alignment: Rosie may have to align her personal energies with the Evergreen Staff to tap into its full potential. This could involve meditation, visualization, or channeling her own magic through the staff to synchronize their energies and amplify her abilities.

Protection and Security: As the guardian, Rosie would likely need to employ protective rituals or enchantments to safeguard the Evergreen Staff from unauthorized access or malicious intentions. This might include creating magical barriers, setting up wards, or enlisting the aid of other magical beings to defend the artifact.

Here are some additional examples of protective rituals that Rosie might use to safeguard the Evergreen Staff:

Enchantment of Concealment: Rosie could perform a ritual that cloaks the presence of the Evergreen Staff, making it difficult for others to detect or locate. This could involve invoking illusions, creating a mystical aura of invisibility, or placing an enchantment that masks the staff's true form.

Warding Circle: Rosie might create a powerful warding circle around the Evergreen Staff to prevent unauthorized access. This ritual could involve inscribing intricate symbols or sigils on the ground or surrounding objects, infusing them with protective magic. The warding circle acts as a barrier, repelling or alerting Rosie to any unauthorized attempts to approach or touch the staff.

Elemental Guardians: Rosie could invoke elemental spirits or mythical creatures associated with the Spring Court and assign them as guardians of the Evergreen Staff. These guardians could be tasked with defending the artifact, patrolling its vicinity, or alerting Rosie to any potential threats.

Ritual of Binding: Rosie might perform a binding ritual that links the Evergreen Staff to her own essence, ensuring that only she can wield its power. This ritual could involve invoking ancient oaths, sealing the bond with her blood, or imprinting her magical signature upon the staff. Such a binding would make it extremely difficult for others to manipulate or misuse the artifact.

Alarm Enchantment: Rosie could cast an enchantment that triggers an alarm or warning when someone approaches the Evergreen Staff without her permission. This ritual would create a magical alert system, alerting Rosie or her trusted allies to any unauthorized access or tampering with the artifact.

Guardian Spirit Invocation: Rosie might invoke the aid of powerful guardian spirits associated with the Spring Court to watch over the Evergreen Staff. These spirits could be bound to the artifact, manifesting as ethereal beings that patrol its surroundings and act as protectors in times of need.

[xxsacrificiumxx]

 has your muse ever felt as though they’ve been reborn ?  have they ever desired the feeling of a fresh start ,   or a better understanding of themself and/or the world around them ?  

Random Asks (ALWAYS ACCEPTED)

A consistent theme I have for Iniquitous Essence (IE) and its main cast of character revolves heavy around the way they develop and change as people based on the world and the drastic events that warp them. Focusing on the big two of this blog, lets deep dive:

Rosie Valentine

Considering her to be one of the primary leads of IE, she is a character whose entire theme is about "dying" and being reborn again and again as something new that can survive in the environment Shes been forced into. The symbolic catalyst for these changes, Ironically, being flame and chaos. Depending on the era in which you meet her, Rosie is a very different person: from childhood, her days in the calvary, her time in Tennessee, to the well-known "Unbreakable Sphinx" hero facade Shes picked up now late in life. The designated marking points of being "reborn" is at the cusp of each of these life phases -- so lets talk about the very first

The first time she felt she was reborn, letting the old life die and the new one rise from its ashes was when she initially left the calvary. Left it, I should mention it, collapsing in on itself in a smoldering mass of corpses of soldiers, monsters, and melting tech alike. She had set up the detonation that caved the entirety of the base underground, and she'd killed off every one of her former teammates to make sure there was no ties to say this version of her had ever existed at all. Up until that point, Rosie can say she had no discernable personality of her own. Her life from 14 to 22 was spent in perpetual survival mode as she was preyed upon, manipulated, beaten down on, and overall had no real hope for what a future could look like for someone like her. What was the point of it when all she wanted was to die? For a small era she had almost had a blip of hope when Kasimir came along, promised her that they'd break away from this, be heroes and have a family together. And for once in her life she believed it

But even that was short lived and decimated right before her eyes when kasimir was cast out of the Calvary unit. 17 years old back in the jaws of the wolves and no one to save her anymore. She miscarried the baby they were suppose to have.. then that point on marked the ascension of change.

When Rosie watched that base burn down, where all her tormentors got an express early preview ticket of Hell she thought they belonged to, it was the very first time in her life that she felt she could breathe. The first time she felt like she was waking up as a person... and now had to discover who she was outside of being a victim or a soldier. The old Rosita Roselyn had died in a mechanical malfunction that killed hundreds of soldiers, priests, and demons in a blazing pit of meat and molten metal, no one suspected who was the real cause of it... she was free, reborn to be who she pleases.

Unfortunately for her, the first run of the person she chose to be was not perfect or as good as she wanted to be. Which leads to the second evolution: When did she desire a fresh start?

An 6 year era following the end of the calvary, Rosie lived in Tennessee as a caretaker for a monster she stole from that very base she destroyed, Nikki (A character for an entirely separate post to talk about). The personality Rosie developed with her newfound freedom was not really a person, but rather an agglomeration of personality aspects and traits she had picked from a variety of the significant figures in her life, and the biproduct of her divided psyche coping with the sudden and drastic change from survival mode to... person mode. Rosie never really got out of survival mode... instead she became good at pretending. To be the friendly deputy of a small town everyone could rely on, while behind the scenes she was still as calculative and manipulative as she needed to be to ensure the safety of herself and Nikki. Even if it meant harming Nikki with lies and guilt to keep her safe. For her own good, Rosie tells herself. If she has everything under control, they are safe.

In this same era, she discovers new feelings of love for a waitress -- but is it really love, or projection of longing for what was? Love and lies dont really go hand in hand, neither does paranoia and distrust. So driven to keep everything under control, convinced she can keep what she loves safe by being this monster, Rosie ends up being the cause of her own downfall as things spiral out of her control. Nikki found and saved by the father of her children, the waitress she adored suddenly very aware of the monster Rosie is slowly revealing herself to be and leaves her for her fellow deputy, the very same deputy that closes in in preparation to reveal the serial killer that Rosie Is ; Then she was alone again. Everything that she held dear and tried so hard to protect slipping past her fingers. Because she lacked the ability to realize she was suffocating them in her palms and digging in with her claws.

Left to her own accord, she realizes the person she made herself to be at that time was a mistake... So what was there left to do? Allow herself to be caught, or follow Nikki and try again?

Too much to be done, she couldn't afford she be caught or to die... at the very least, she could try to do right this time around. Gain forgiveness by helping from afar. ' Her move to New York at age 28 marks yet another transformative era of rebirth, shedding the skin and bad habits of her old life to improve herself. Give up her obsession with control and take initiative to make meaningful relationships outside of what she needs people for. Be... kind. Gain a sense of humor. Give herself worth outside of being a soldier and a fighter.

She becomes the beloved Sphinx, the friend and maternal figure that will always have your back and defend you from dangers. Give you a way out. Curbed her more violent instincts like the monster of Tennessee and the calvary days had never existed. But its not truly dead. She is a mom now in her 40s -- she's tired, but endlessly giving. She does the best she can to make everyone happy because they deserve it. And she takes the torment and the punishment because that's what monsters deserve. That is how justice is served. It's what she is good for.

Jacob McCool

While less dramatic in his developmental stages, Jacob is another main cast in IE whose development is more so in terms of emotional maturity. The massive heavy hitter we see now was once just an orphaned kid that was lost in the foster system. Mistreated because of an inherent strength he didn't have the experience or know-how to control. Deemed a liar because he heard things talking, heard sounds that no one else did. The lack of support had led him down a path of delinquency for the sake of survival. He didn't always have the ability to solidify his muscle into weapons and claws and armor. He was always big, always fast and stronger than the average person. But still just a cocky teenager like anyone else his age. If no one would believe him, he would be the monster child they painted him to be. For most of his early teens he was a delinquent, got in with the wrong crowd to run paraphernalia for a good chunk of cash. Not that he was any good at money management, but he ate whatever he liked and lived in the bare minimum of abandoned places to pass his time. Things went well... up until he was the unknowing goods being traded up. Betrayed by his own boss, a 17-year-old Jacob is tied up and sold off to a military division who want to unlock the full potential of his power to replicate it. Prodded, cut open, beaten down, pumped full of chemicals, assaulted -- all trials to push the limit of his capabilities, to activate that hidden gene that angels have that he knows nothing about. He could have been there for days to months to years -- he had no real sense of passing time as he hung onto life. til the day those desired abilities they tortured him for finally activated.

They got what they wanted but did not account what could be done with those powers in the hands of a starving half rabid animal. The details are blurry to him; just a slideshow of red, a symphony of gunfire, squelching meat, crunching bones, twisting metal, and gurgled screams. Then he's suddenly out in the open air, breathing in that fresh city smog -- a new freak of nature, with bulging muscles that took the gunfire like plastic pellets and claws that ripped through steel and meat like paper. Whatever he was before he was dragged down to that pit had died successfully and what came out was something new, something worse, that they could never beat. A man with a newfound fear of needles and the pungent stench of hospitals, ever angrier, ever more distrusting, knowing the only one who will look out for him is himself. Newly reborn Abaddon as they'll come to call him.

The desire for a fresh start comes further down the line, as paths cross and his life is yet again turned upside down by the arrival of his own children he thought to have died in the womb. Sometime in his early 20s he had met a 17-year-old Nikki, and it had only been a year before their relationship fell apart following the perceived death of what would have been their twins. Rejected and blamed by Nikki and told to leave, emotionally immature as he was, he did exactly what he was told. Angry and heartbroken but unwilling to compromise if that's what she wanted from him. For nearly 10 years he had drowned himself in a career in underground fighting for cash. Made himself friends in Rocky and Guts, and tried to forget about anything that had to do with the pretty girl that broke his heart. Then out of the blue a little girl shows up -- has his scowling face and unruly hair, but all too familiar beauty of a woman he never forgot. At first in denial, an absolute dick to this kid he thought was yet another government trap to catch him, it's with the coaxing (verbal berating, maybe getting smacked in the back of the skull a few times) of his friends that gets him to face the music that he is in fact a dad. And he has a moral obligation to find his whole family, save them, and bring them all back together.

But life is never quite that simple, is it? Its always nice at first. A spree of excitement for something new, something different, and something familiar. Here he had his girl back, had kids... and he had no fuckin idea how to be a dad or a husband. In typical jacob fashion, he fucks it up too.

He comes to realize that people don't always grow and stay compatible with each other... for all the love he had for Nikki, she had grown into a woman of her own, and he has still stayed that immature boy who only knew how to save the day and nothing else after he gets the girl. It costs him everything. What good was he if he could not make her happy? If she was always disappointed in his inability to keep up with her in conversation and interest?

After getting a job within the angel project thanks to Rosie, he takes it in stride that his family is better off when hes not around to ruin everything. He leaves them the house, still pays the bills and picks up the kids every other week, and finds a different place to bunk.

A fresh start comes only after you have everything to gain and nothing else to lose. In finding out he has a family; he sets out on a journey to be the better man both Nikki and his twins need him to be. Even if it means coparenting from afar. There was more to life than just food and fighting to see tomorrow.

[xxsacrificiumxx]

This is an Indie OC blog with original lore in the home verse and a shit ton of alternative fandom verses if that's what you're into :)

This blog does sometimes contain mature themes that can be triggering to some, including: Violence, SA, and abuse -- but usually contained in context of background and plots. With plenty of antagonist muses present.

The primary themes on this blog is:

♡ the struggle of parenthood

♡ overcoming the trials brought by trauma and mental illness.

♡ What makes a monster 

♡ There is no true hero or villain

Give this a like in the future if you're too shy to follow first. Happy plotting! Mun is 23+ and so are majority of the muses. You're welcome to call me Rosie ❤️ always welcome to catch me on discord ♡ 💋 Rosie Posie 🌕#7288 ♡

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*** These docs are always being worked on so if there are any questions, Feel free to ask about them ***