Who: Rose and Kennet When: Evening, May 11 Where:Rose's trailer What: Settling in Warnings: TBD
Rose was not typically an impulsive person - life and circumstance had made her careful of her heart, her safety, her loyalty - and in the first moment of silence in her new home, left alone to settle herself in the small, cozy trailer, she had almost panicked. Certainly she'd felt a moment of buyer's remorse. She knew nothing about the place to which she was now tied, nothing more than a compulsion and a certainty in her gut, and it was upon that which she leaned to keep herself from grabbing her meager belongings and bolting. She knew that there was safety found in numbers, especially people who, while not like her as kin, had their own abilities and secrets to keep safe. It had ever been her mission in life to care for those who needed it, and who better than a traveling caravan of magic and mystery whose very oddities precluded them from seeking treatment in mundane hospitals? She'd miss surgery, to be sure, but she'd already been out of the game so long. The last year had blurred into an endless line of trains and buses and rideshares, so much time spent looking over her shoulder for pursuit that she hardly knew where she was going until she got there. Here, at least, she felt like she might be able to start breathing again.
Unpacking was the work of moments; she had money but traveled light, never more than what she could carry in one bag plus her guitar, the one luxury she allowed herself. She made a simple meal, then put it away untouched when she had no appetite. She could cross the trailer end to end in a few steps, but took her time traveling the space, tracing fingertips over fixtures, peering into cabinets as though she could divine the life of a previous owner, if there had been one. She found nothing; it was a blank slate. Clean. Fresh. Ready to be overwritten with her own belongings, the scents and textures that would make up the essence of her home. It was a pleasant thought, staying in one place long enough to call it home again.
Restless, she took a chair outside and sat down with an old book, cover faded and binding loose and cracked many times over. It fell open easily to its place, the pages soft with handling. She wouldn't sleep well until she knew the sounds of the night in this place, neighbors settling in or going out, the soft sounds of lives being lived around her. She would sit and read for a while, and absorb what she could, and hopefully it would be enough.