#Rosie Springwald

[eeltime]

In the back end of 2023 I started revamping all of Rosie's outfits and giving her new ones and then i ... promptly forgot about it LOL. I would love to finish the project though and have a big canvas of all her looks. Here are the 3 I finished so far (undies one under the read more)

#rosie #2023 #costume design #rosie springwald

[drustvar]

Ch. 19: Sanguis Pecunia

Sanguis Pecunia - The Latin phrase for "Blood Money". Do the answers lay waiting in the undercity? Or is an even darker secret waiting to be revealed?

WC: 3.1k A/N: WHOOOOOO guess whose back baby. Well, maybe. IDK what happened that my drive for this went on a very long vacation; blame it on working full time I guess. Here's hoping I can get back into the groove of things! Ao3 Link in Reblog || Full text under cut

The Vesuvian underground was a completely different world from the one above. Devoid of sunlight or warm breezes, replaced with a cold and damp darkness that Rosie felt threatened to swallow her and Julian up as they made their way through the tunnel. Like a ship in a storm, their only guidance was a single beam of light from far on the horizon. It grew brighter the closer they got, and the louder the sounds of a busy market became. The familiar sound felt both reassuring and chilling. “So you say you were on the VIP list, what exactly does that mean?” Rosie asked as she paused to carefully step around a large pothole. “Very Important Person-” “I know what that means,” Rosie laughed and headbutted his shoulder.

“Ah, yes of course. Well, in this case, it's really just that I was on good terms with a number of merchants and happened to spend a good deal of coin in the markets here. Back during the plague,” his gaze became distant as he continued, “There wasn’t always time to waste on gentler treatments, and many of the city’s official trade routes had shut down completely. Very often there was no choice but to go underground in order to get what was effective. Or at least… somewhat effective. We really were trying anything and everything. Just uh, throwing whatever we had at the wall to see what could work,” he said. Rosie squeezed his hand as he began to rattle off a list of contraband. “Forbidden Loch leeches-” 

“Leeches were forbidden?” That seemed to go against almost everything Rosie knew about humor theory. 

“No, no, Forbidden Loch leeches. It’s an insulated loch from a land far to the west, which is said to be quite treacherous to reach. They seemed to have antiseptic properties, unlike any other species, and as such were in quite high demand at the time. Oh, careful dear, mind the ledge,” He held her steady as he guided her down the crumbling incline. “It really was incredible the things you could find down here. There were rumors that one of the vendors even had a supply of real Alicorn, able to purify any poison into fresh spring water. Was never able to find them though. Sometimes it kept me up at night wondering if perhaps that could have been the key…” he shook his head, looking equal parts discouraged and equal parts embarrassed to have ever hoped for the answer to have been so simple. “Ah, well. We’re on the hunt for something different now, aren’t we?” 

They stood at the end of the tunnel, half in shadow and half lit by the hazy red lights of the market. Rosie glanced up at him, taken in by how the light played sharply off his features and shimmered in his hair, turning it from auburn to crimson. She couldn’t tell if the way his dark eyes glittered when he glanced at her was another trick of the light, or from something else that made her heart flutter. “I wish we weren’t,” Rosie said as she leaned against him. “God, how I wish we weren’t. I wish we didn’t need to be hunting for scourges, or answers, or any of this shit. Wish there wasn’t a sword danglin’ over our heads.” 

Julian made a sympathetic noise as he brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. “Ah, my dear, if wishes were horses we beggars would ride.” He said as he gently cupped her cheek. She longed to feel his skin against hers again instead of the cool leather of his gloves. “Who knows, perhaps this ‘Scourge’ Asra spoke of is just around the corner?” It was unlikely,  but what else could she do but hope? Even still, she couldn’t help but think back to the discussion she had had with Asra earlier. She knew he’d never send her into harm’s way, but Julian? The way Asra had spoken about him made her think Asra wouldn’t be above it. The thought that they would be so careless about someone, about someone she loved, made her queasy. 

“No use dawdling back here in the tunnel,” Julian’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Let’s be on our way-”

“Wait!” She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back just as he had stepped out into the hazy red light of the market.  “Pulling me off into the shadows already?” He asked, a brow raised as a toothy grin spread across his face. “I’d heard the red market can have that effect on people, but we only just got here-”  “Be serious,” Rosie hissed as her eyes darted around. Despite there being a stall with patrons gathered around it just a stone's throw away, nobody had seemed to notice them. “You cannae just walk out there, someone will see you!” “Oh, is that all?” He almost sounded disappointed. “Rosie, I told you I used to be a regular down here. These people knew me.” “That was then and this is now-” “This market is underground for a reason, dearest. Almost everything that goes on down here breaks a law in one way or another. Believe me, it's on nobody’s agenda to have the place swarming with guards.” 

“Do you really think nobody’s tongue can be loosened by gold?” Her voice took on a hoarse and desperate hiss. “Have you any idea how high the bounty on your head is?” “I…well, uh, well I assumed there was one of course, but I've tried not to look at any of the wanted posters for too long. It uh, I’ve found it only puts me in a worse state, if you can believe that’s even possible.” 

Rosie started to rummage through her bag before she pulled out a crumpled ball of paper. She smoothed it out and handed it to him. “Well look.” 

Although the paper was warped from the elements and from being crumpled at the bottom of a bag, the words were still very clear:

“WANTED - JULIAN DEVORAK.  12,000 GOLD REWARD FOR THE MURDER OF COUNT LUCIO PROSPERO AND EVASION OF ARREST  STILL AT LARGE - MAY BE ARMED AND DANGEROUS.  BY ORDER OF COUNTESS NADIA SATRINAVA-PROSPERO; MUST BE APPREHENDED ALIVE TO BE ELIGIBLE FOR REWARD.”  This notice takes the place of all previous notices. Contact Consul Valerius Sergius Latinus or Local Guards station with information.”

In the very center was a portrait of Julian; though it truly looked nothing like him. The man on the wanted poster looked wild and cruel. Julian stared down at it in silence for a long moment.

“You know, on every one of these I’ve ever seen, they’ve never gotten my nose right.” Despite his joking words, there was no laughter in his voice.

Rosie snorted. “That’s the last of our worries.”

“Twelve thousand gold…they really think I’m worth that much?” He let out a sharp laugh. “I remember very well how Lucio ran the economy of this city into the ground, I seriously doubt the court even has that much left.” Rosie shrugged. “Countess is from Prakra, isn’t she? They’ve got money. I’m sure the Prakran Queen is willing to toss a few thousand gold Vesuvia’s way to at least make it look like she cared about her late son in law.”

“I really can’t get over the drawing. It’s almost offensive. I knew the Consul never liked me but my goodness-” “Julie,” Rosie laid a hand on his arm. “Do you understand what I’m sayin’ now?” Rosie could remember how not too long ago the wanted posters had been different—how before the Countess had awoken from her coma it had been under Consul Valerius’ order, and how instead of ‘WANTED - ALIVE’, it had read ‘WANTED - DEAD or ALIVE’.  It was very, very clear to her which one the Consul would have preferred. She’d torn down every poster she had come across, but she was sure dozens were still floating around. “We cannae afford to be so careless.” 

“You keep saying we,” his voice was much quieter when he spoke again. “Not that I, uh, don’t appreciate the sentiment. But it’s only me who has twelve thousand gold on his head. If I had paid attention…I’d have never-” 

“Now you stop that right now,” Rosie said as she pressed a finger to his lips. “I didn’t show you that to make you feel guilty, I did it to prove a point.” She continued, ignoring the light flush that had spread across his cheeks. “We’ve got to be smart about this.” 

“Well, I mean, you could always cast another spell, like when we were at the Palace. But I don’t know if that’s the best idea, it took a lot out of you, didn’t it?”

Rosie hesitated before nodding. “Illusions are complex, an’ I’m no illusionist.” “Then that’s off the table. I don’t want you burning yourself out on me, especially not here. You never know what uh, what kind of trouble there is down here that would need magick-ing out of. Not that I plan on us getting into anything that would require magick-ing out of, mind you, but-” “Hold that thought,” Rosie said as she began to rummage through her bag again. 'Amaranth, surely I still have some Amaranth,' she thought as she dug. “Here we go,” she said as she pulled out a rather battered looking, burgundy colored sprig. Julian raised a brow in question. 

“Amaranth is the key component in invisibility charms and spells,” she explained. “I dunnae have the reagents left for a full invisibility charm, but this should work for a quick ‘never-mind-me spell’ .” She took his hand in hers, the sprig sandwiched between their palms as she began to mutter under her breath. Julian watched in awe as for a moment the ring of color around her pupils flared a glowing gold color in the hazy light. “There we go! Hopefully, that will work for now-”  “Your eyes,” Julian interrupted as he tilted her jaw up to look closer. “What about them?” 

“They were glowing! Since when do they do that?” “Oh,” Rosie laughed, reaching up to lace her fingers in his. “That’s nothin’ special. Happens when anybody uses magic.” 

“Nothing special?” Rosie let out a surprised squeak as he wrapped an arm around her waist and swept her around. “Rosie my dear, that’s incredible! Never seen anything like it in all my days. Ah, and the way you so easily bend the fabric of reality with a simple stalk of grain?” He grinned and leaned closer. “It’s intimidating.” 

“Intimidating?” Rosie laughed and lightly tapped his nose with one of her nails. “If you think that’s anythin’ special you should see what I can do with a proper supply o’ herbs and a cauldron.”

“Ah, to be able to learn from you… what secrets could I unlock?  What wonders could I do for patients if I could only absorb an ounce of your magic touch,” Julian had sunk to his knees as he spoke, resting his head against her hip and looking up at her with the adoration of the sun and the hunger of a starving dog. 

Rosie smiled wryly and traced his jaw with her nail. “Thought you didn’t like magic? Gave you the heebie-jeebies.” 

“Well, perhaps I, uh, I’m warming up to the idea.” His voice became slightly pensive as he hugged her thigh. “You make it less unnerving. You make, uh, well you seem to make lots of things less frightening, as it were.” 

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen me really angry yet,” Rosie laughed as she petted his hair. “You’d change your tune if you saw me hex someone, I’m sure.”

Julian mumbled something indistinct as she pulled him back to his feet and cautiously led the way out of the tunnel. As much as she would have liked to stay hidden in the shadows, doing so would get them no answers. Perhaps with any luck, there would be time later for him to soliloquy and sing her praises as much as he wanted. 

The pair hugged the wall closely as they crept through the smoky haze that swirled throughout the marketplace. Rosie’s eyes darted around as she tried to take in everything; for a supposedly secret underbelly it seemed just as crowded, if not more so, than some of the markets above ground. A sea of chatter only broken up by the occasional clinking of coins and the breaks formed by the dozens of stalls selling strange wares. 

“Look there,” she nodded at a small stall filled with watery, croaking jars. The vendor had hung a small banner advertising a sale on Twilight Dreamfrogs. She had read in a bestiary once that they were only found in the cold, far southern ranges of the continent. 

“The frog seller?” 

“Those frogs come from the South,” Rosie said as she took one last glance up and down the narrow path before stepping out into the low, scarlet light of the street lanterns. “I’d wager if anyone might know anything about some ‘Scourge of the South’, it might be him.” “Good thinking, my dear,” Julian said as he patted her arm and stepped around her. He drew himself up to his full height; imposing and authoritative, before he snapped his fingers to get the vendor’s attention. “You there! You heard anything about the Scourge of the South?” 

“The fighter?” The vendor hardly glanced up at them as he ladled a glowing, writhing mass of glowing worms out of a barrel and into a jar. The sight of it made Rosie’s stomach turn. “Of course. He spilled more blood up there in the ring than anybody before or after. Old Lucio was never able to find a replacement worth half the Scourge’s salt.” 

“So he was a gladiator? And I take it he was the Count’s favorite, eh?”

“He was everyone’s favorite,” the vendor scoffed as he tightened the lid of the worm jar. “He was undefeated. Any poor bastard who got thrown in with him didn’t have a chance in hell of making it out alive.” He paused while drying his hands, narrowing his eyes at the pair. “You two aren’t from around here, are you?” 

Rosie could tell the vendor’s patience was waning. She thanked him for his time and led Julian away, thankful to no longer be near barrels and barrels full of worms, or suspicious eyes. However, as soon as they had stepped away, another merchant waved them over. 

“Frog man over there’s only half right,” the woman said from under her hood, as she casually rearranged a set of small, humanoid skulls. “The Scourge was no ordinary fighter. He was an executioner. Rumor was that if you got on the Count’s bad side, you had a good chance of meeting the Scourge up close and personal.” She laughed and shook her head. “But that was long ago. Scourge is long gone, just like his master and the plague, hm?” 

The woman’s eyes glowed from under her hood, a bright, unnerving shade of blue. Julian and Rosie awkwardly laughed along with her. “So he died in the plague?” Rosie pressed.

The bone dealer shrugged as she poured teeth into a small leather pouch. “Who can say? No one knows for sure, except that one day he just vanished. Maybe he got wind that people were tired of seeing him always win, wanted to get out before the tables turned on him. Now,” The woman said as she pushed back her hood, revealing a deathly pale, moon-shaped face and waves of dark hair. “You two gonna buy something? Bones? Furs? I’ve got a special on goat’s blood, that always comes in handy, you know.” 

The pair exchanged a look, silently agreeing that her question had only one right answer: rumors weren’t free.

|||||

“So we’re looking for an executioner,” Julian said as he pocketed the bag of teeth they’d been more or less strong-armed into buying as they continued down the path. “Think he’s trying to say something with that?” 

“In all fairness, this is a murder we’re investigating,” Rosie said as they came to a crossroads. “I dunnae think Asra would send me to find someone who would wanna hurt me. Don’t know about you, though.” 

“Fair point, I suppose. Well, uh, aside from that, I’m sure there’s got to be a reason he’s told you to track down Lucio’s former personal executioner,” he paused, his gaze drifting down one of the paths to where a shadowy, ramshackle building stood. From where they stood they could see a sign that read ‘The Jagged Dagger’, hanging off of some rusted hooks. Raucous laughter and faint, tinny music drifted from inside.

“Well, what do we have here?” Julian started towards it, only stopping when Rosie caught his sleeve. 

“We’ve no time for detours.” 

“Ah, but my dear, we’re looking for the Scourge of the South, no?” Julian grinned and easily pulled her off balance and into his arms.  “And wouldn’t it seem that this path just so happens to be leading south?” 

“No, I’m pretty sure this path leads west.” 

“My dear, don't you remember my story about my days aboard a pirate’s ship? Surely, you can’t think my sense of navigation has atrophied that badly. Besides, who knows who we might find in there? Could be former fight promoters, maybe some former gladiators if we’re lucky-” he was interrupted by a loud crash from inside the pub, and a moment later a shiny, glass eye rolled out of the door in front of the pair, followed by a weathered looking sailor stumbling after it. He grabbed for his lost eye and shot a poisonous sneer in their direction as he immediately turned on his heel and went back inside.

“Seems a lovely place,” Rosie snorted. Julian seemed undeterred. 

“Now this is my kind of place,” Julian grinned. “I’d bet if nothing else there are some diehard Scourge fans in there-”  “I’m sure there’s plenty of shady folks in there who’d gladly sell you out, too,” Rosie said as she crossed her arms. “Even so, I have confidence in your spell work! And, uh, well, you’ve been looking a little frail since you cast that spell on me, we could both use a drink.  Something to eat too, have you eaten? You should.  Besides, I just can’t  pass on a chance to get rowdy.” 

Rosie looked at the tavern and then back to him. There was another crash from inside, followed by uproarious laughter.

“Alright,” she sighed, unable to resist his puppy-dog eyes. “But if things get ugly in there, you stay behind me and let me handle it, got it?” 

“Oh, yes ma’am.” He practically swooned as he followed after her. She paused, just in front of the loose hanging door to glance back at him. “Let’s get rowdy.” 

#Kismet #Julian #Julian Devorak #The Arcana #Arcana #Arcana fic #Rosie #Rosie Springwald #mine

[wiltingdecay]

@drustvar 

i couldn’t resist

#choose ur catgirl gf wisely #rosie springwald #portia devorak #shitposts by fern

[drustvar]

Ch. 1: Poison

The start of Julian Devorak and Rosie Springwald's entangled fate. At least, that they remember.

WC: 2,398

AN: Here we gooooo!!! I'm so excited to finally start posting these chapters. This is the continuity where Rosie is truly her most unhinged which is quite fun to write :^). As always these will be available in full on my blog and on my Ao3. (ill rb with the link later)

Rosie startled awake as a flock of birds took off from the window ledge. She sat up, rubbing the remainder of foggy dreams from her eyes. She had been slumped over a desk in the Palace library, books and papers scattered all around her. Pippin sleepily opened one of his eyes, watching her from where he’d curled up inside one of the desk’s many cubbies.

‘Oh, that’s right,’ she thought. ‘Portia said I’d have the day to myself. Something about the Countess’ headaches…’ She ran a hand through her hair, staring at the desks' contents scattered around her. With the day promised free of the Countess’ prying eyes, she had begun to dig through it further, having hoped to find anything, anything she could use. But despite her efforts and the sizable mess that had built up around her, she had found nothing. Nothing to prove Julian was innocent or if he had actually killed the Count three years prior. Nothing she could use to protect him. 

“Oh, come on, I really need to get in there!” 

Rosie’s head snapped up as she heard Portia’s voice drifting through the open window. She sounded frustrated, as if she were arguing with someone, although Rosie couldn’t quite hear another voice. She stretched and got to her feet, holding her hand out to Pippin.

“You comin’?”

The squirrel just grunted and rolled over, evidently too comfortable to be bothered. Rosie shrugged and shouldered her bag, still yawning as she made her way outside to the gardens.

|| “Please? You’re really trying my patience here.”  “How dare you? Don’t you know who I am?!”

The voice that answered Portia was harsh and vicious; a shriek that pierced through the heavy foliage that still blocked Rosie’s view. She could feel volatile magic already crackling over her knuckles as she balled her hands into fists. 

“Is this guy botherin’ you, Portia?” She asked as she burst into the clearing. But there was no one else to be seen, it was just Portia and a large white bird, which screeched angrily at them both. 

“Oh, Rosie!” Portia seemed surprised to see her there, and let out a small laugh. Before them sat a small, cozy looking cottage, surrounded by a lush garden. The bird squawked out an expletive from where it perched above the door to an adjacent shed. “Rosie, this is Camio. Resident pain in the ass,” Portia said, gesturing to the bird, which lunged at her hand as she did.

“I can take care of him,” Rosie offered, already reaching for her dagger. Portia laughed and shook her head. She clicked her tongue and a small cat came running out of the garden and leapt onto her shoulder.

“That’s it Pepi, get him!” 

The cat yowled excitedly as she swiped at the cockatoo. The bird shrieked, beating the air with its wings. One well aimed swipe sent it teetering, and it only just managed to take to the air before hitting the ground. It hissed a string of swears as it made a hasty retreat.

“They’ll never forget me! They’ll never survive without me! Bastards, bastards, BASTARDS!” The bird screeched one last time as it vanished over the trees. “Ooh, that awful bird!” Portia said as she picked a feather off her shirt. “He certainly had a colorful vocabulary,” Rosie said.

“Oh, you should have heard him the time I caught him trying to steal my apples,” Portia laughed as she petted the cat, still perched on her shoulder. “I’m surprised you managed to find this place,” she said, gesturing to the cottage. “It’s a little off the beaten path.” 

“Well I heard you yelling at the bird and thought someone was hasslin’ you,'' Rosie said as she fluffed her hair, her cheeks a light pink. “Where are we, anyway?” “Oh! How rude of me,” Portia cleared her throat and spread her arms out to show off the cottage. “Welcome to Casa de Portia, my own little oasis on the Palace grounds. Just watch out for the graspgourds, they’re feisty today.” 

“You have graspgourds?” Rosie excitedly asked, oblivious to the vine winding around her ankle. “I can never get any to grow!” “These ones sure seem to like you,” Portia laughed as she stepped on the vine, making it unravel and retreat from Rosie’s leg. “Why don’t you stay a while? It must have been a good walk to get here.” She gestured to a bench carved out of a log that rested in the shade of the cottage.  Rosie made her way slowly through the garden, fawning over all the plants along the way. As she settled onto the bench, Portia shot her a wry smile as she picked up a rake.  “You don’t mind me working a little while we talk, do you? I’ve got a lot to do in the garden today.” “Not at all! Would you like me to help?” Rosie asked, starting to get back up. Portia laughed and waved  for her to sit back down. 

“Rosie, you’re my guest! I can’t have you getting all sweaty in the garden. Not on your first visit, anyway. You just sit and look pretty,” Portia said with a wink. “Well, if you’re sure,” Rosie sank back onto the bench, her gaze drifting over the garden and the trees surrounding it. Now that she had stopped to think, questions were beginning to peck at her  mind. She remembered what had happened at the shop the day before, how Portia must have followed her, and how upset she had been to see Julian there. “So…Julian’s your brother, isn’t he?” The familial resemblance had been obvious once they were together. She was starting to worry if it was enough for Portia herself to be in danger. 

The shock and hurt that suddenly overcame Portia’s features was enough of an answer. “Yes,” Portia said, staring down at the ground. “I’m sorry about that scene at your shop, you know, I was just…surprised to see him there.” 

“I was too,” Rosie said. He wasn’t unwelcome, but she’d have preferred if he had just asked instead of breaking in again.  “He’s got a real flair for the dramatic,” Portia said, her voice slightly less somber. “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.” 

“How long has it been since you’d last seen him?” Rosie asked. She remembered what Julian had said—that Portia had grown up strong. Portia sighed and leaned against her rake. “Oh, fifteen years?  Maybe more. He left Nevivon—that’s where we grew up, when I was still little…” Portia’s gaze was far away, trying to remember. “You didn’t know he was here?” Rosie asked, thinking to herself that if she had a younger sister, she’d be sure to tell her when she was in town.

“Not until I saw him yesterday. What he thinks he’s doing here…” Portia said worriedly before she shook her head. “I’m only sorry I didn’t smack him a little harder for the trouble, honestly. He could be in huge trouble,” she sighed again before she squared her shoulders and managed to give her a halfhearted smile. “I didn’t know you two knew each other. That happen before or after milady hired you?” 

Rosie fluffed the back of her hair. Why was Portia looking at her like that?  

“I met him the night the Countess came to the shop. Just after her, in fact,” Rosie said as she remembered the glassy eyes of Julian’s mask. That piercing red; she’d been ready to kill him, she had been so frightened. She couldn’t imagine feeling that way now. “Funny, that was.” 

“Hm, that sure sounds like my brother. Why didn’t you tell milady?” Portia asked. Her expression was genuine, and Rosie could tell she would understand her, no matter what she said. 

“It weren’t any of her business. Well, it were, I guess,” Rosie said. “But I did na’ trust her.” 

“And you still don’t?” Portia asked, as if reading her mind. “No,” Rosie almost laughed. “I know that must sound so ungrateful, seen as how she’s been so good to me since I been here.”

“No it’s alright, I understand,” Portia said. “You know, milady’s convinced he’s the culprit, but I can tell you’re not. To be honest, I’m relieved. I want to help milady’s worries, but…” 

“But he’s your brother ,” Rosie said gently. “Exactly.” 

“Look,” Rosie said as she got to her feet and made her way over. “I’m not convinced he didn’t kill the Count, but I’m not convinced he did, either. Even if he did, he doesn’t deserve to hang. Lucio, from what I know, was as much a plague on the city as the actual plague,” she paused, taking Portia’s hands. “I’m tryin’, but I dunnae know what to do. I dunnae know if I’m smart enough to figure this out.” 

Portia smiled warmly and squeezed Rosie’s hands. “I’m sure you are, and there’s only one thing we can do: keep working at it. Things are messy now, but they can’t stay that way forever, right?” 

“Right,” Rosie said, feeling surprisingly encouraged.

“Oh my,” Portia glanced up at the sky. “It’s getting kinda late, huh?” 

It was already well past noon. Golden, late afternoon sun dappled the garden and danced across the women’s faces. “I’d better get back to work. But I’m glad you came to talk to me. I knew we’d be friends.” Rosie grinned and hugged Portia, so tightly that the shorter woman let out a surprised squeak. The two laughed and waved goodbye as Rosie headed back into the foliage. 

|| The late sun shining through the trees was warm on her back and the air was full of bird song, but Rosie was too ensnared in her own thoughts to care. She wanted to keep Julian out of the hangman’s noose, but how hard would that be with all of the Countess’ guards trying to sniff him out? She was but one woman, and they were many. She sighed and leaned against a tree, twisting the cord of her amulet in her fingers.  Despite it all, she did feel better after speaking with Portia. Somehow, whatever trials that lay ahead seemed just a little less insurmountable.  Still, she wasn’t keen to return to the Palace. She turned off of the path and allowed herself to wander aimlessly through the forest. The further she got from Portia’s cottage and the Palace, the darker it grew. She stopped and stared up at the sky; it couldn’t be nightfall yet; perhaps a storm was starting to roll through. She shook her head as dread began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She turned hastily and pressed through the darkness.  ||

Eventually, the soaring spires of the Palace emerged above the treetops, with the rest of the shining building following into view. Rosie stopped at the treeline, staring out at the rolling fields before her. A creek serpentined through the grass, babbling quietly. At first she paid it no mind, before her attention suddenly snapped back to it. What she saw made a shiver run down her spine: the water was running red. She tried to tell herself that it was a trick of the setting sun, but there could be no mistaking it. Crimson flowed slowly and seeped into the banks. She dug her nails into the tree next to her, trying to keep herself steady as her heart raced. Terrified, she followed the water’s path with her eyes; it was seeping out of a small, shadowed corner of the Palace. Poison . It would have been easy to miss, the creek was small and out of the way, the guards would have little reason to patrol the area. She let out a strangled noise and shut her eyes, turning back towards the gardens. But, to her horror, she was greeted by rot and decay. The trees all along the field were dying, and seemed to have been drained of all their color. She gulped, clutching her amulet with shaking hands. On one side of her was a decaying forest, and on the other, a river full of poison. She was trapped.

‘ I have no choice, I have to follow it to its end. ’ 

With feet made of stone, she started to follow the water, making sure to keep an ample distance from the bank. ||

Soon, the vast fields gave way to a rocky cliffside, the stream being funneled into limestone structures. The aqueducts; dozens and dozens of them that flowed into the city to provide the citizens with water. She stood on the edge of the strange, twisting path, high enough that she could see the entirety of Vesuvia. The city sprawl was chaotic and vibrant, swirls of smoke left chimneys to dance in the air, twining together like lovers. A raspy caw from above alerted her to a raven that circled overhead. It swooped low as she walked along the aqueduct, at times seeming to fly alongside her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the bird was somehow familiar. Regardless, she appreciated its company. 

“Oh, hello,” Rosie said as the raven landed heavily on her shoulder. “Are you friendly?” 

The raven tilted its head and gently nibbled on a strand of her hair.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. The bird’s eyes were wary, but it remained still as she carefully brushed its cheek. A sudden noise startled both of them, and the bird vanished back into the darkened sky. Rosie sighed as she was left alone once again. 

‘Sure hope Pippin enjoyed his nap,’ she thought as she continued walking.

Eventually, the aqueducts lowered and joined another water line,  forming one of the many canals that led deeper into the city. Rosie could see the beginnings of urban life as she reached the city’s outskirts. Tall, old buildings rose up against the horizon, almost blocking out the skyline. She stopped, staring at the canal. The water wasn’t the same bright red as it was in the fields, but she could tell the poison was still there, hidden in the depths.  ‘Crimson poison leaking from the Palace to poison the city’s water, ’ Rosie thought, her lips pursed. ‘ How poetic. ’ 

“Rosie?” A quiet voice made her jump. A tall figure slowly emerged under the dim light of a street lantern. Standing with half his face cast in shadow, was Julian. 

#it BEGINS!!! #the arcana #arcana #rosie #rosie springwald #portia #portia devorak #julian #julian devorak #yes i feel a little guilty tagging him when hes not in this chapter until the end but LMAO #mine

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Ch. 10: Vanishing Act

Quick thinking and help from someone who is no longer.

WC: 1,102 A/N: Had some fun with foreshadowing + flower symbolism in this one! Sorry if the end feels disjointed, this was another case of "gotta break down these huge chapters". Ao3 link in reblog || Full text under cut

The jangling of keys outside the library door was one of the most frightening sounds Rosie had ever heard. 

“Rosie, we need to leave, now .” Julian said, his eye wide and frantic. 

“Stay behind me,” She said, as she ushered him as far back into the corner as possible. The first lock in the door clicked, ringing through the quiet library like a death knell. ‘ Nine left, ’ she thought as her eyes darted around. They were out of direct view of the door, but it would only take a dozen steps into the library for them to be clearly visible. The two voices outside the door could be heard much more clearly now: Portia and the Countess. 

“Oops, dropped the key ring again!” Portia could be heard saying, followed by the clank of metal landing on the floor.“I’m so sorry, milady. Don’t know why my fingers are so slippery today!” 

“It’s quite alright, Portia.” Nadia’s voice was soft and unassuming. “Perhaps I should try, on account of your slippery fingers?”

“What? Oh no, milady! I can’t have you opening doors for me! I promise it'll only be another moment.” Another click. Rosie’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure it could be heard through the door. Julian turned to her, his face pale. “I won’t have you caught in my mess,” he said in a hushed tone. “When that door opens, you run. Or hide, you just get out of here. She’ll be too busy arresting me to notice you.” 

“No!” Rosie hissed. “We’re getting out of here, together.” She glanced at the window—could they jump? She didn’t like how high it was, but she figured a broken ankle would be a preferable alternative to a hangman’s noose. ‘ No…no time... ’  “Rosie, you need to go! Use some hocus pocus and vanish in a puff of smoke, something! Please, just go.” Julian’s voice was pleading. “You have to stay safe.”

“I said no! I’m not leaving you behind!” 

“Damn it, Rosie. You have to! There’s not room in this library for two self-sacrificing fools. Let me do this, please. If you’re caught, you could be hanged alongside me.” Locks eight and seven clicked. “Go, Rosie.” His hands shook as he gripped her arms, the insistence his eye unwavering. 

‘Is he really going to sacrifice himself for me? ’ she thought. Tears began to burn the corner of her eyes. “We haven’t discovered anything yet,” she clasped his hand and tried to keep her voice from breaking. “Are you really willing to die without answers? Without the truth?” 

“I’ve been ready to die since I came back to Vesuvia. A few unanswered questions won’t make me turn in my grave.” 

“No. No, no, no! ” Rosie stomped her foot as she planted herself firmly between him and the rest of the library. “I won’t leave you. Y-you cannae make me!” Another lock clicked; only a few were left. Time was running out.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good. You’re really going to risk it?”

“Always.” Magic crackled over her fingers. She had no idea what she was going to do when the door opened; only that she would do anything to protect him. He stared at her, like she was some puzzling, unbelievable thing. 

“Fine, you’re the boss. Let’s get the hell out of here.” His gaze shot to the window and the trees far below. “We could try to jump, but your hip-”

“Forget my hip. That can be mended.” 

He shook his head. “Don’t suppose you can fly, er, can you? Turn into some great hawk, maybe?” 

“Afraid not.” She gritted her teeth as her eyes darter around them, searching for anything, anything . She had never wished to be a skilled transfigurer more than in that very moment. Her chest felt tight as it began to set in how truly cornered they were. 

‘ Anchor points, find the anchors ,’ a voice not unlike her own seemed to whisper in her ear, and her eyes lit up. She cast her magic out, frantically feeling for any lingering magical resonance. Wonder of wonders, there was something there, just on the edge. She didn’t wait a second more, grabbing his hand and hauling him behind the bookshelf on the furthest side opposite to them. Set into the wall behind it were two marble pillars covered in ivy. 

“I cannae believe I missed this,” she said as she hurriedly tore the leaves away. Carved in the stone was a small sigil that resembled a celandine flower. The magic that pulsed beneath it was faint, clearly having not been renewed for years. But what was still there felt promising, almost familiar. As if coaxing them to safety. She hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

“What is that,” Julian asked as he cast a worried glance at the door as the penultimate lock clicked. 

“It’s our ticket out of here. I just need-” Rosie was cut off as the final lock clicked, and the door slowly began to swing open. The shelf would buy them a bit more time, but not much. Julian slumped next to her, as if ready to walk out and surrender. 

“Rosie-” 

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed and grabbed his arm, keeping her close at her side. She could only just barely hear the Countess asking Portia if they should begin looking for ‘Asra’ and herself over the pounding of her heart. But by some miracle, they were interrupted by a wonderful, familiar voice calling from the hall: 

“Countess, were you looking for me?” ‘God bless Asra!’ Rosie thought as she watched him saunter into the library, drawing all of the Countess’ attention. 

“Ah, Asra. Not in the library after all?” Nadia smiled and folded her hands. “Where has Rosie gone?” “I sent her off to pick up an ingredient from our shop. It will be needed later.” “What a pity. She could have joined us for dinner. You will join me, will you not?”

“I’d be delighted, Countess.” 

The Countess turned to leave, Portia at her heels. Asra paused, his head tilted slightly in Rosie and Julian’s direction. Their eyes met briefly through the shelves. Julian tensed like he was ready to run out and confront them. But Asra just turned away and followed after the Countess. The still quiet returned to the library as their footfalls faded, the only thing left behind being a heavy tension. 

“He bought us time,” Rosie breathed. “Come,” she hooked her arm in his. The portal in the wall activated, the stone rippling like disturbed water. Without another word, she pulled him through to freedom.

#kismet #mine #rosie #rosie springwald #julian #julian devorak #the arcana

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Kismet : Table of Contents

The entwined fate of Rosie Springwald and Julian Devorak; for worse or for better.

(Tumblr link -> ao3 link)

Poison (x)

Gifts and Curses (x)

Candleglow (x)

Dreadlings (x)

Manticore (x)

Fracture (x)

Standstill (x)

Bitter Shadows (x)

Chameleon (x)

Vanishing Act (x)

Messenger (x)

Halcyon Dreams (x)

Borrow the Moonlight (x)

Sulky Sunrise (x)

Best Kept Secrets (x)

Erode (x)

Hourglass (x)

Table of Contents will be updated every 5 chapters xoxo ♥

#i did this all late last night i hope i didnt fck up any of the links LOL #kismet #mine #julian devorak #rosie #rosie springwald #julian #the arcana

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Ch. 2: Gifts and Curses

The start of Julian Devorak and Rosie Springwald's entangled fate. At least, that they remember.

WC: 3,675 A/N: Chapter 2 babes. Fun with eels, blood, and evading the law. Ao3 Link || Full text also available under the read more.

“Julian?” Rosie squinted into the shadows, but she was sure the tall figure was him; standing at the canal’s edge framed by the light of the moon. Behind him, the city towered like a behemoth, a chaotic sprawl of buildings piled on top of each other. In his hands was a beaked mask, which he turned over slowly as if unsure of what to do with it.  “Fancy seeing you here, Rosie. Out for a night walk, hm?” Julian sighed, and his gaze dropped to the water below them. The shiny red paneling on the inside of his coat reflected brightly in the water, crimson on crimson blending together. 

Rosie followed his gaze. “I dunnae know, I was just…following the water,” she said before she shook her head, trying to rid the sight of the poisoned river from her mind’s eye. “What are you doin’ here?” “Me? I was just…thinking. What a funny, fickle thing life is, isn’t it?”  “Life and fate are two sides of the same capricious coin,” she murmured. “You shouldn’t stand so close to the water,” she gestured for him to take a step back.  “What, this water?” Julian grinned, and for a moment she was scared he was going to jump right in. “It’s harmless, Rosie. Or, as harmless as it can be. It won’t do anything to me. Or anything to anyone, anymore. Sure, a few people might get sick if they go for a swim, but,” he sighed, his gaze lifting from the water to the sky. “Isn’t it a miracle? They went and figured it out. Or outlasted it. Wonder how they did it?”  “Miracle or not, I don’t trust it. Get away from it, please.” He laughed and took a step back from the canal, if only to appease her. “Ah, it’s no matter, I suppose. Life finds a way, doesn’t it? The plague is over.” 

She glanced at the water again. If what she had seen flowing through the fields was to be believed, she wasn’t sure that was the case. 

Julian sighed heavily. “And so is my career, just like that. Who needs a plague doctor if there’s no plague? It’s like,” he paused, his face splitting into a bitter grin. “Like a Count without a city! A barkeep with no drinks,” as he threw his arms out in a flourish a piece of hair obscured his good eye. “So here I am. Throwing away the last piece of a past I can’t reclaim. A pity, isn’t it? Ah well,” he glanced down at the mask once more, and then tossed it into the water below them. Pale, slithering shapes swarmed it as soon as it hit the surface.  “What are you doing?!” Rosie lunged, failing to even come close to catching the mask as it fell. “You need that! Did you forget what I said? The Countess has all her dogs out after you-” she was cut off by a ragged screech as the raven from earlier returned, circling them in a frenzy.  “Speak of the devils,” Julian said. “Look lively, Rosie. We’d best make tracks.” 

|| They hurried along the canal, following it to where it merged with the streets. Julian reached the end first, turning and waiting for her, glancing  around for any sign of their pursuers. Rosie’s breath caught in her throat as she felt her hip twinge painfully and then give out beneath her. She slammed hard  onto the canal’s edge, breath knocked out of her as she slid. The last thing she saw before the reservoir swallowed her was the doctor lunging to grab her, his hand just barely missing her arm.

She’d never thought the waters of the reservoirs would be so cold or so dark. The frigid temperature was suffocating, and time seemed to slow as she sank. Something slimy brushed against her leg, followed by a sharp sting in her side. The pain was enough to snap her out of her daze and she flailed, clawing her way to the surface.  “Rosie!” 

Julian’s hands gripped her shoulders as he pulled her from the water, her nails scraping wildly against the stone for purchase. She gasped at the return of air to her lungs, and began to cough up water. 

“I’ve got you, you’re alright,” Julian’s voice was barely audible over the pounding of her heart and her own coughing. She winced as the stinging in her side only worsened when she tried to get to her feet. Attached to her abdomen was a slimy, undulating creature, her own blood visible through its translucent skin. 

“Ah, that’s not good. Hang on-” 

She didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. She grabbed the creature and tore it from her side, throwing it on the ground and crushing its skull audibly beneath her heel. 

“Nasty little beastie,” she hissed and spat on the ground. 

“You shouldn’t have done that!” 

“It’s fine,” Rosie said, briefly glancing at the bite. Already it was beginning to weep a volatile looking fluid. “We need to keep moving.”  “Rosie, those eels are venomous-” Julian grabbed her arm, trying to stop her.

“I said I’m fine! Now come on,” Rosie shrugged him off and started to stagger towards the road. She was soaking wet and despite the night having been warm, she was freezing. She only made it a few steps before she stumbled and slumped against the side of a building. “I just need a minute,” she murmured. Her legs felt so weak, how had she ever walked before? Doing so seemed impossible now. Julian scooped her up, despite her protest that she was fine, she just needed a minute. She was faintly aware of the blood soaking through her clothes and running down her leg, but she was quickly becoming too dizzy to care. 

“Can you stand? Just for a moment?” He asked her as they ducked into an alley.  “Trying,” her words were slurred and becoming incomprehensible. She gripped his arm tightly as she struggled to make her legs work. Had her limbs always felt so heavy?

“Right, foolish question,” Julian said as he pulled her further out of sight of the street. “Easy, easy,” he said as Rosie suddenly flailed, her eyes glassy like a dazed animal. “Let me see that bite.” She was barely conscious; only faintly aware of the cool, wet stone pressed against the side of her face and the rustling of her corset being unlaced and pushed up out of the way.

“Sorry, sorry. I have to get to it.”

Whatever Rosie tried to say in response was trapped behind her teeth, coming out as a low gurgle. She stared at the stars overhead, faintly of Julian’s hands as he worked.

“I was trying to warn you, if you don’t properly dislodge its jaws, the eel panics and injects its entire venom supply. I’m sorry,” Julian said.

“Not your fault,” Rosie managed to say, although her words were still slurred and broken.

“The bleeding isn’t going to stop, damn.”

From the corner of her eye she could see Julian sitting back, his brows furrowed in concern and frustration. As he peeled off his gloves, she started to convulse, as her body gave one last attempt to fight off paralysis.

“Hang on, just stay with me.” Rosie caught the briefest glimpse of the murderer’s brand burned into the back of his hand as he cushioned her head against the pavement. “Stay with me, Rosie.” The palm of his hand was cold when he pressed it over her wound. With her last remaining gasps of consciousness, she tried to hold still.

“Deep breaths for me. This will only take a moment.”

Somehow, she was able to follow his directions. His thumb lightly brushed her cheek and slowly the pain began to ebb away. She gasped for air as her lungs were freed and able to work again.

“Why does somethin’ always seem to go wrong when we run into each other?” She asked, finally able to enunciate.

Julian let out a sharp bark of laughter. “If you’re able to joke, that’s a good sign. Should also mean you can sit up.” He helped her slowly shift upright. She was still dizzy, but his hand on her back steadied her. “At the very least, you didn’t catch me breaking and entering this time. But, I’ll admit that I was surprised to see you in the neighborhood. You’ve got some kind of luck.”

“Luck?” Rosie snorted. “Bad luck, maybe. Half drownin’ and poisonin’ myself in the span of five minutes. Must be a record.”

“Ah, but it could have been worse,” he pointed to the canal’s end, a violently cascading waterfall of red. It was much higher than she had first realized, and as she craned her neck she could see that the pool at its bottom was very shallow. It had structures to prevent gondolas and fishing boats from falling, but if the current had caught her it surely would have swept her down.

“You have a point,” she shuddered and turned back to the doctor. Her eyes widened as she noticed the glowing mark on his throat. “My God,” she whispered, and reached out to touch it before she stopped herself. Something about the mark was unnervingly familiar. A shadow passed over his countenance as he met her stare.  “Ah, do you recognize your master’s handiwork?” As he spoke, fresh blood blossomed under his clothing, already visibly beginning to seep through. “This was his parting gift to me. A curse. I’m able to take away bodily wounds, as you can see,” he pressed a hand to his side, before pulling it away and staring at the blood smeared on it. “And in return, I get to experience them for myself.” He winced in pain, a cold sweat visibly beading on his brow. 

‘I’d never known Asra to curse,’ Rosie thought. 'Always had the impression that he thought he was too good for that sort of magic.'

Julian sucked air through his teeth as he swayed forward. Rosie caught him, supporting him with her shoulder. ‘If I’d known he’d suffer, I would have told him to let the venom run its course.’ She thought as she watched the blood trail down his side. “It won’t last, it never does,” he murmured. “A curse from a witch who fears commitment.”

“Take as long as you need, it’s the least I can do,” she said, as she shifted to let him rest more comfortably against her shoulder and her chest. His skin was cold and his breathing was shaky. She ran her fingers gently over the nape of his neck in a light, soothing pattern.

“Then again, I’ve never been bitten by a vampire eel before. This might be interesting.” He sighed and slumped a little more against her.

“Thank you,” Rosie said after a  quiet moment had passed. 

“I,” Julian blinked up at her. “Don’t mention it. That is, well, circumstances being as they were… I’m just glad you’re alright.” Both of them fell silent as they heard a dreaded sound: Palace guards patrolling the outer walls of the city. “Shit,” Rosie hissed under breath. “Will you be alright? Can you walk,” she asked. He was still visibly shaking, and the bleeding hadn’t stopped. “I can carry you if you need me to.” 

“I’ll be fine. In fact I promise you I’m near good as new,” Julian said as he ushered her into a connecting alley.  The alley was narrower than the last. Julian pressed close against her as they tried to hide as far back as they could. She felt her hair raising as the guards drew closer. She didn’t know what she’d do if they were caught, and didn’t want to think about it. All she knew was that she wouldn’t let them have the chance to get near him. She glanced at him, pain evident on his face despite his prior insistence. His eyes were fixed on the street before he shifted to meet hers. For a moment they stared at one another in silence. 

“Rosie-” 

“You should have stood behind me. If they only see me-” A clinking sound from the alley’s entrance silenced her. The guard was kicking a bottle along as they walked, not paying any attention at all as they passed by. “Not the time,” Julian whispered. “Let’s go.” ||

He grabbed her hand and led her out of the alley, casting a cursory glance down the street before breaking into a run. The city passed them by as a blur as they evaded the patrols; weaving around buildings and ducking into the shadows as needed.  “Julian,” Rosie hissed. She could tell from his breathing that he was still hurting, still weak. He held a finger to his lips and pointed. She hadn’t even noticed it before, across the road from them was a garden nestled between two tall, seemingly abandoned buildings. Just barely visible through the shadows cast by the garden’s overgrown trees was a padlock on the wrought iron gate.  ‘I can blast the lock no problem,’ Rosie thought.  ‘If we can get inside, it’ll be the perfect hiding place,’

One thing stood in their way: a street lamp. It seemed painfully bright, and anything under it was visible for quite a ways down either side of the road.

 ‘No, it won’t work. Surely they’ll see us,’ she thought, pursing her lips.

But before she could say anything, Julian was already running across the street and pulling her along with him. She gripped his hand tighter as she steered them right to the gate. Magic was already crackling in her palms as she grabbed for the lock when Julian half lifted, half threw her over the wall. She landed awkwardly in a heap, and just a second after Julian dropped down next to her.

“Are you alright?” Julian asked as he helped her to her feet.  “Fine, I-” Fast, close footfalls made her blood run cold. “Get down!” She hissed as she dropped to the ground, pulling him down with her. She held him close to her chest, his head tucked under her chin as she tried to hide him from view with her body. After what felt like forever, the guards finally passed by, leaving them with only the sound of their beating hearts. Rosie waited another minute, just to be sure the guards were really gone, before letting Julian out of her protective hold.  “Thanks,” he said, helping her to her feet once more. 

“Of course,” Rosie dusted herself off and pretended not to notice how red his face was. “We shouldn’t stay this close to the gate. Another patrol will be here soon.” 

Julian held a curtain of ivy open for her, and together they ventured further into the garden. ||

The garden was overgrown, clearly abandoned for some time. The plants had long since taken over the stone structures, obscuring what were once alabaster columns and marble statues. Between the moonlight and the shadows cast by the untamed foliage, the garden seemed like a quiet, shrouded world all of its own. Rosie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Finally, they were safe, at least for a little while. She stopped to look at a statue of a lion, carefully pushing leaves out of its eyes. It must have looked fierce, once. But now it seemed tired and ready to return to the earth. Julian led the way, stepping around roots and cracked, jutting stone floors before they settled at a dilapidated fountain. Rosie sat, and started to squeeze the water from her hair. 

“Ah, look at this place!” Julian said. “A perfect hiding spot. You made a good choice.” 

“You were the one who pointed it out,” Rosie shrugged. 

“I uh, I was actually pointing at the building over there,” he nodded at the structure to the right, barely visible through the overgrowth. “But this is much nicer. Looks like you’ve a knack for finding hidden beauty, Rosie.” 

She laughed and shook her head, sending droplets from her still-wet hair scattering through the moonlight.  “I wonder how many parts of the city have fallen to ruin like this, hm?” He looked around them before carefully making his way over to one of the statues. It was grotesque, something between a bull and a gargoyle. “Ah, and look at this brute. Hello there, handsome.” He wrapped an arm around the statue’s muscular shoulders and turned back to Rosie with delight in his eyes. “Dangerous looking creature, isn’t it?” 

“More handsome than dangerous, if you ask me,” she said, not looking at the statue at all. “But how is that bite? I can tell you're still hurting,” She started towards him. She squinted to see if any of the blood on his coat was fresh.  “Oh, are you worried about me, Rosie? You needn’t be. Perfectly alright, see?” He spread his arms wide and nearly knocked a bust over in the process. He swore as he caught and steadied it. “I, uh, ahem. Reflexes notwithstanding.” 

Rosie snorted. “You said that before. Just let me see it, I know a  thing or two about mending too, you know.” She reached for him but he stepped back, just out of reach. 

“Really, it’s fine! Just a little bite, nothing I can’t handle. There are more dangerous things than eels,” he said. 

“Well that little eel sure knocked me on my ass. So I’d really like-” Julian wasn’t paying attention, something else had caught his eye. 

“Ah, hold still, Rosie,” he reached out and slowly plucked a flower off her shoulder. It had a vivid blue glow, just like the luminous trees overhanging them. The flower’s star shaped petals curled inward , beginning to close as he touched it. He offered it to her, a quirk to his lips as he twirled it in his fingers, She reached for it, the blue glow reflecting brightly in the gold of her eyes. He stopped her, shaking his head and pulling it back just out of her reach. 

“Ah, ah ah. Careful. There’s poison in these petals.”    She stared at the glowing flower. She had seen it before in her herbal compendiums, but at the moment its name escaped her. 

“Deadly Starstrand,” he said. “A single drop of poison distilled from this flower could kill an elephant where it stands. Its killed tyrants and kings; innocent and guilty. It could topple entire empires in a careless hand,” he offered it to her once more, something eager in his gaze. “Do you still want it?”

“Aye,” Rosie said as she plucked it from his gloved fingers. “Deadly it may be, but only to those who dunnae know how to handle it.” She sniffed it lightly. The flower had a faintly acrid scent, an underlying note of iron that swirled in the air. “The only danger it poses is from ingestion. Otherwise, it makes a lovely centerpiece,” she said as she admired the way the flower’s own light blended with the light of the moon. 

“Ah, right again,” Julian said, gently taking it from her hand and tucking it behind her ear. His hand lingered against her hair for just a moment longer before dropping down to her shoulder. 

“You certainly weren’t frightened by its ‘danger’,” she said as she took a step closer. 

“Afraid of danger? Why, Rosie, I live for it,” he grinned. “Positively enchanted by danger, I am.” 

“So does that mean pain doesn’t scare you either?”  “Why should it? In my line of work you can’t be afraid of a little pain. One might say I,” he paused, his gray eye glowing silver in the low light. “Have an intimate knowledge of it.” 

“Is that so?” Rosie’s voice was low and husky, almost a growl. She took another step closer, this time placing a hand on his waist and pressing lightly against the wound. He gulped and stared down at her. 

“O-oh are we dancing? I didn’t know you could,” Julian said. “What, er, what’s your poison? Tango? Waltz?” 

“Whatever you’d like,” She all but purred as she took another step closer and pressed more heavily against the wound. He bit his lip and made a stifled noise. It didn’t sound pained, if anything it sounded pleased. He took another step back and bumped into the crumbling wall behind him. The look he gave her was desperate. 

“S-so not the waltz, then. Pity, I’ve been known to cut a rug-” his fingers dug into her shoulder, gripping her like a lifeline as he slid down the wall.  ‘Does he like pain? ’ She wondered, as a devilish spark began to shine in her eyes. It quickly fizzled and died into concern when he whimpered quietly again. ‘Maybe he’s just trying to hide how bad it is, I shouldn’t have done that.’ 

“Rosie-” before Julian could say anything else, the sound of the iron gate screeching as it was pushed open startled them. 

“Right on time,” he scowled. “Let’s leave before our guests arrive, hm?”  ||

With the garden’s sanctity compromised, the two hastily escaped over the crumbling wall out onto the streets once more. They ventured deeper into the city, through more questionable and unfamiliar areas than Rosie had ever been. Julian seemed to know the area like the back of his hand—or at least, all the routes needed to escape their pursuers. Eventually, they came to a small cottage on the outskirts of the district. The residence didn’t seem well maintained; some of the brickwork was starting to crumble and there were holes in the roof that had been hastily patched with whatever material was on hand. But it was lived in and homely. In the yard, chickens were making their way into a small hutch for the night. In the window, a lantern glowed faintly. 

“In we go, Rosie!” 

Julian didn’t wait for her to respond, instead clambering through a window set low to the ground and pulling her in after him.

#chapter 2 lets GOOO #i intend to have the third one out on valentines day bc soup shenanigans ;) #arcana #the arcana #rosie #rosie springwald #julian #julian devorak #kismet #mine

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Ch. 4: Dreadlings

Tiny, lingering feelings of dread that only get worse over time.

WC: 2,829 A/N: Rosie says murder is okay! <3. A very dialogue heavy chapter (not that thats out of the norm. these two cannot shut the hell up.) also minor content warning for depiction of an anxiety attack. (Not sure if it really warrants a CW, but better safe than sorry, right?) Ao3 Link in reblog || Full text available under read more.

The sound of a door creaking shut woke Rosie, her throat dry and her eyes bleary. She glanced at Julian, still asleep next to her before she quietly padded out into the kitchen. Mazelinka was nowhere to be seen. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet; the sky outside was just beginning to shift from the darkness of night to shades of twilight; but Rosie supposed that, like many old women, Mazelinka preferred to be up early, and must have already left for the day. She settled at the table and stared at the embers faintly glowing in the hearth as she tried to shake off her drowsiness, to little avail. Just as she was starting to nod off again, a faint noise startled her. She strained to hear it come again. 

“No, please.” 

‘Julian ,’ goose pimples began to rise on her skin. ‘ Who is he talking to ?’ 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” 

Rosie felt her blood turn to ice as a loud thud followed his pleading.‘ The guards! It has to be, they’ve gotten in somehow ,’ she scrambled, anxious magic crackling at her fingertips as she threw back the curtain and snarled. “Get away from him!”

But no one else was there. Julian was crumpled on the floor pale and shaking. Tangled up in the sheets like a fish in a net. He looked up and grimaced, cold sweat beaded on his brow. “Rosie, did I wake you?  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

Her snarl faded into a relieved smile as she scooped him up and set him back in bed and set about untangling him from the blankets. 

“My, you are strong,”

“I told you I could’ve carried you,” she said as she settled back in next to him. He was still so tense, whatever nightmare had awoken him hadn’t fully released him from its clutches. “Are you alright,” she asked. He was visibly trembling, even though he tried to hide it. “It sounded like you were having a nightmare.” 

“Did it? Ah, well,” he avoided her eyes. “That would be because I was. Having a nightmare, that is.” He slumped forward, his arms wrapped around himself. “Seems silly in the light of day, Or, er, dawn. It wasn’t real, after all.”

“But it felt real,” she said gently as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He nodded, pressing his fingers against his temples before he sat up and cleared his throat.

“Why were you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said as she rubbed small circles into his back. She wondered if she had stayed beside him if he would’ve had a nightmare at all.

“Oh? Well, lucky for you, I’ve got some experience in the field of insomnia,” he grinned and squeezed her hand. “Have you tried lying in bed, consumed with guilt for every mistake you’ve ever made?  If that doesn’t work, you can try pacing and muttering to yourself. Or feverishly writing letters you’ll never send.” 

Rosie blinked at him. “Sounds miserable. Is that what you do?”

Julian’s smile turned sheepish. “Well, I…Well they may not put you back to sleep, but they’ll pass the time, at the very least.” He sighed and looked away, his voice somber as he continued. “I wish I had more of it — time, that is. But I’m just being selfish, aren’t I?” He sunk down onto his back, his arm thrown over his eyes. “Do you believe in forgiveness, Rosie?” He peered up at her, pleading for an answer. 

“I like to think so,” she said after a moment.

“Do you think that even truly heinous things can be forgiven? Or are there some things you don’t get to come back from?”

“Julian,” she reached over to cup his face, her thumb brushing lightly over his jaw. “If this is about the Count, of course I forgive you. In fact, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“Rosie, that’s murder you’re talking about!” 

“So? Maybe sometimes…”

“Rosie,” Julian propped himself up, staring wide eyed at her. 

“Y-you didn’t grow up here,” she said. “Under Lucio. You dunnae know what it was like.” 

“Do you?” His question wasn’t accusatory, she could see in his eyes that he truly wanted to understand.

“I…” she sighed. “I cannae remember. I mean, I know I did, but,” she shook her head, her hands scrunching the sheets. “There was some kind of accident, and now I cannae remember anything from then. But Asra did, ‘an he remembers. Lucio killed his parents. Forced him onto the streets when he was still just a wee babe. That’s only the beginnin’ of his cruelty…” she trailed off and tried to muster a smile. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, if you really did kill him, you were doin’ the world a favor. Stop feeling guilty. Stop villainizing yourself.”

Julian shook his head and sighed. “Ah, but even aside from the Count, you don’t know what I’ve done. You shouldn’t put me on a hero’s pedestal, I’ve done nothing to earn it. Would you forgive me if I hurt you deeply? Irrevocably? What if I hurt the people you cared about? Would you still forgive me then? What if I took everything from you, and then took more when it wasn’t enough? Could you still forgive me then?”

That gave her pause. She’s always been one to hold a grudge, even over the pettiest of things. She thought of everyone she loved; how far she’d go to protect them.

“Some things are unforgivable,” Julian said, interrupting her thoughts. “If I did something,” he looked away from her and stared at the wall. “I just wish I knew. It’s the not knowing that keeps me up. Well, and a thousand other things. It doesn’t matter,” he turned back to her and gently took her hand. “Thank you for listening. You…you’re very kind.”

‘ You are, too ,’ Rosie thought. Despite sitting next to each other, the distance between them felt like a vast gulf. She wondered if she hadn’t given him an acceptable answer, and she again wished she was as skilled with riddles as Asra was. Yet Julian smiled at her as if nothing was wrong.

“Say, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally kidnapped a pregnant war elephant?”

“How on earth do you accidentally kidnap an elephant?” She laughed. The tension seemed to slowly evaporate as Julian began the story, wrapping an arm around her as he gestured with the other. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested, on the contrary; it had all of her favorite elements, but despite that she felt herself beginning to drift off again. Faintly, as if part of her dreams, she heard him whisper. 

“I’m sorry, Rosie. But it’s better this way.” ||

Rosie grumbled and rolled over, trying to escape the sunlight that poured through the window. “Julian,” she murmured as she felt around next to her. But the bed was empty. She sat up and blearily looked around to see if he’d fallen on the floor again. But she was alone, save for the songbird singing on the windowsill.

“Julian?” She called as she crept out of the bedroom. The small house was empty and silent, worryingly so. “Julian?” She called again, louder this time, as her heart began to beat faster.

‘ They…they couldn’t have gotten in and taken him, right ?’ she thought as she worriedly twisted her amulet. ‘ I’d have heard them. He was right next to me… ’ 

She opened the hatch and peered down into the cellar. It too, was empty. She sunk down at the table, drumming her fingers against the worn wood grain. ‘If he left, it must have been of his own accord… but why? Will he come back? What if he gets caught, and I’m not there to-’ she shook her head and smacked her temple, as if doing so would scare off her anxiety. She wished Pippin were there to act as her voice of reason, or at least give her hands something to pet instead of yanking at her hair. Her head shot up as the front door quietly creaked open. 

“Oh, you’re er,  already up.” Julian stood in the doorway.

“Julian!” She leapt to her feet.

“Listen, Rosie. We need to talk.”

She grimaced. She knew nothing good ever followed that phrase. She sat back down, and tried to pass off the way she fidgeted with her amulet as casual instead of nervous.

“Sure. What’s up?” Her voice came out much quieter than she’d intended.

“Good, good. But er, not here. Get dressed and let’s go to the market, shall we? More places to talk.”

She didn’t say a word as she ducked into the other room where her clothes had been hung to dry. Somehow, despite having been worn just a few hours ago and for years before that, they felt strange  and unfamiliar. She shouldered her bag, and gave what she hoped was a smile and not a grimace.

“After you, my dear” Julian held the door for her. She looked back at the cramped, cozy interior, and wished that they both were still asleep. ||

Julian led them away from the city’s outskirts and deeper into the district, his arm hooked in hers. In the light of day she could vaguely recognize their surroundings, and as they emerged from the twisting alleyways and onto a bustling street market she knew for sure: The South End. South End’s market was much different from the marketplace near her and Asra’s shop; none of the stalls seemed permanent, and instead of lining either side of the road they were sprinkled randomly throughout, not unlike stones in a river. He came to a stop, anchoring her from drifting out into the crowds of shoppers.

“Rosie, about that talk…Ah, wait, I nearly forgot. First things first.” 

‘ Whatever you’ve got to say, just get on with it, ’ she thought, her lips pursed. But she said nothing, just squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. 

“Mazelinka left a shopping list for us,” he said as he produced a folded, tattered piece of parchment. “Just a few ingredients to pick up. Pickled elderberry, charred newt flesh, blindweed..” he trailed off, clearly not having expected ‘a few items’ to actually be a few dozen. “She uses them for her folk remedies. Most effective pep-up soup I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of soup.” 

Rosie nodded as she scanned the list. “Standard reagents for green magic. I’m familiar with most of these, this won’t take us long.”

“Magic?” Julian stared at her. “These things? Nonsense. They’re ingredients for medicines. Effective ones, too.” 

“Folk medicine and folk magic closely overlap. To many they’re one an’ the same.”

“It’s not magic,” he insisted. “No one chanted nonsense from a fancy but ominous tome. There were no glowing circles and weird runes. No one bled.” 

“Is that what you think magic is?” She laughed. He’d looked disturbed by the very suggestion that Mazelinka was practicing witchcraft. “It’s not all white doves and blood pacts, you know.” 

“It’s not?” He still seemed unconvinced and uncomfortable.

“Does magic scare you, or somethin’?” She asked, raising a brow.

“I, er, of course not. It’s just-” 

“You know I’m a witch, right?” She leaned closer and batted her eyelashes. “Are  you scared of me?”

“Of course not!” He said, his ears red. “I just…I don’t understand it. Magic, that is. Never have.”

She shrugged. “Some magic is more complex than others. There’s plenty I don’t understand.” 

“But these remedies, I understand,” he gestured at the list. “You mix things together, chop them up, and they work. Or they don’t, and you try something different.”

“It’s the same with magic.” she said. “It’s like a game of trying new things and figuring out what works and what doesn’t. It’s far less intimidating when you think about it like that.”

“Where have I heard that before?” He looked at her curiously. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. Look at you,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Knowing things, and all I know is that I don’t know.” He paused, and his smile faltered. “So, about that talk.”

“Later,” she said, taking his hand in hers as she waved the list. “After we get this stuff. I’ve a feeling you won’t know a ripe fogberry from rotten.” She started to pull him into the market, but someone blocked their path, staring at Julian with wide eyes.

“Julian, is that you?” The person was clad in muddy leathers, with bottles of all sizes on belts slung across them. Black shapes wriggled within the glass; leeches. “Ain’t seen you in the city fer’ years, y’old dog! What’re you doin’ here?”

“Tilde, it’s good to see you!” Julian shook their hand, the bottles that were slung over their shoulders audibly sloshing. “How’s the wife? Still having those headaches?”

Tilde scoffed and waved vaguely. “She’s doin’ fine. Still talkin’ ‘bout moving to Prakra. What’re we gonna do that for, huh? They got no leech market there!” The two laughed and exchanged a few more pleasantries before they parted ways again.  As Julian led Rosie through the crowded street, more and more people waved and called out to him as they passed by.

“My, aren’t you mister popular,” Rosie teased. He turned back to her, the same melancholy in his expression as before.

“Listen, we need to-”

“Outta the way, outta the way!” A street urchin interrupted him as he shoved past them, chasing after a mangy looking dog. “Mopsy, you rotten mutt! Get back here!” The dog slipped on the cobblestones and landed against a rickety produce cart, sending the whole thing teetering. 

‘ Godammit ,’ Rosie thought as time seemed to slow. ‘ This is the second time this week! ’ She braced herself, but before it could slam into her, she was swept out of the way, held tightly against a broad chest. They landed hard, but  Julian had shielded her from the worst of the impact.

“Rosie, you alright?” He looked past her, his eye widening. The last of the apples bounced past them, as all of its brethren had already been scattered all over the street.

“Oh dear, watch out,” he grabbed her again and rolled them out of the way as the empty cart collapsed in on itself in a violent spray of wood and nails. “Are you alright? Nothing hit you, did it?” He pulled her to her feet and dusted her off, hovering over her like a worried mother hen. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Rosie mirrored him, worriedly looking him over for injuries. “Are you?”

“Don’t worry about me, I-” 

“You’d better be planning on paying for all that.” The apparent owner of what was once a makeshift fruit stand had appeared, their hand out expecting payment.

“Oh, piss off,” Rosie said as she put herself between Julian and the vendor. “We didn’t touch it. It was that dog-” She squeaked as Julian swept her under his arm, laughing and waving.

“Ah, don’t mind her, my friend,” he rummaged around in his cloak and produced a small burlap bag that jingled with the clink of coins. “Do you take Galbradine doubloons? Or Hjallen Drakr?” Rosie stared in fascination at the foreign currency he poured out into the vendor’s hands. Some of the coins were gold or bronze, but some were even more eye-catching: several in the pile were prismatic like the scales of a dragon. It must have been worth a small fortune.

“Well, that takes care of that,” Julian turned to face the onlooking crowd that had gathered. “Free fruit! Come get some free fruit, everyone!” 

The crowd swarmed the fruit like flies, and the bruised produce was cleared away just as quickly as it had been spilled. Julian took Rosie’s hand and pulled her out of the crowd into a side street, checking her over again for injuries.

“Julian, I said I’m fine,” she murmured as she squeezed his arm.

“Are you sure? Everything’s still where it should be? I’m sorry about that, should have mentioned the streets can get rowdy,” he paused, gently squeezing her shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you. This next place is sure to knock your socks off. Nice little teahouse, just down the way. We can sit there and talk. It’s cozy, your sort of vibe. You’ll love it.” 

He led her deeper into the city, all the while still clasping her hand. She was grateful for it, and linked her arm in his to bring him closer. But now that she was away from the bustle of the market, she had started to worry again. 

‘ What is it he wants to talk about? Whatever it is, it can’t be good, from how he looks whenever he mentions it. What did I do to make him upset with me ?’ She couldn’t think of an answer, yet at the same time she could think of a dozen. Whatever problem she had caused, she desperately hoped it was one she could fix.

#skskks this man is gone for 5 minutes and rosie starts w the whole 'hes dead i just know it!!!! :(' she is. UNWELL!! #rosie #rosie springwald #julian #julian devorak #arcana #the arcana #kismet #mine

[drustvar]

Suppertime

Julian continuously gets in the way while cooking and gets exactly what he deserves

Day 2 for the Midsummer Masquerade, impact play

Contents /  Tags: Light dom sub mechanics, Impact play / spanking, praise, edging and denial Pairing: Julian / Rosie  WC: 1,238 AN: This was fun, writing domme Rosie is always fun heehee. Julian can’t ever shut up and I really don’t think he’d be happy unless he gets suplexed through a table. 

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Rosie’s question was followed by a loud smack as she struck Julian’s behind with the spatula. “You stay out of the kitchen when I’m cooking.” Julian stifled a groan as she smacked him again.

“In my defense, I uh, I was only trying to be helpful.” His face was already flushed. “Really, truly.”

“Hm, and you do a fine job of it,” she said, idly twirling the spatula, fully aware of how hungrily he watched it. “Always managing to be standing in front of the exact cupboard I need to get into, stealing nibbles of the meal before it's done.”

“Well you always have to take a taste test as you cook, right?” He bit his lip as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“As it’s cooking,” she said. “I caught you pinching off the bread dough while it was still rising, you little thief.”

“Well, ah, thieves should be punished, shouldn’t they?” He asked as he leaned closer. Rosie growled and pushed him against the counter, which he eagerly sunk down against.

“That’s exactly what you’d like isn’t it,” she asked, tilting his chin up with one of her nails. “Surely you dunnae think I wouldn’t catch on to your little plan, did you?”

“Oh, no of course not, I-” his voice died into a whimper as she dug her nails into his jaw. “Well alright that was a, uh, certainly a considered bonus.” They stared at one another for a moment, the bubbling of the pot on the stove being the only sound that broke the hungry silence.

“Shirt off,” Rosie commanded as she withdrew her grip. She turned back to check the various pots and pans cooking on the stove as he hurriedly rid himself of the garment. “No, those stay on,” she said without even looking his way, just pointing at his trousers with one of her nails.

“Oh, yes of course. I uh, well seen as I’m being punished I don’t get to decide what comes off and what doesn’t do I?”

“Up,” was all Rosie said as she pulled him to his feet. He eagerly followed her lead, his hands trailing yearningly up her legs and the swell of her hips.

“Stay,” she commanded as she stepped away to rummage in one of the drawers. He obeyed, biting his lip as he leaned against the counter and waited for her. Try as he might, he couldn’t see what she had quite literally hidden up her sleeve when she returned to him; though his curiosity was quickly forgotten as she tangled her fingers in his hair and tilted his head back, exposing his throat to press open mouth kisses to his skin, almost taunting him with the edges of her teeth. Her hand trailed lazily up and down his chest before gripping and squeezing, winning a pleased groan as her nails dug into his skin.

“Please-”

Rosie hushed him and pressed a softer kiss to his collar. Julian couldn’t help but groan again and roll his hips against her as she pinched and rolled his nipples between her fingers. He yelped as he felt the pinch of clothespins against his skin—so that was what she’d had hidden in her sleeve. She hushed him again and briefly stepped away to grab the spatula she’d smacked him with earlier. She motioned for him to turn around, which he did so eagerly

“Good boy,” she purred as she traced his spine slowly, enough to make him whine before she swung and struck him hard on the ass with the spatula. Julian moaned and gripped the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles went white.

“Is this what you wanted? This why you kept comin’ in here and botherin’ me?” She asked as she swatted him again. He groaned and his heart fluttered, even though he couldn’t see he could easily imagine the way her teeth glinted as she grinned.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, yes.” He found it hard to speak; his trousers had become uncomfortably tight.

“That’s my good boy,” she said, petting his flank. “You just cannae help but get in trouble, can you?”

“No, I,” he gulped as he felt the edge of the wooden spatula pressing against his thigh. “That’s, ah, that’s why I need you to keep me in line.” He sighed as she pressed close against his back and wrapped her arms around him, humming low in her throat and lazily kissing his shoulder.

“You’re awful lucky I didn’t have my rolling pin on hand,” she murmured as she brushed her fingers over the clothespins and made him whine.

“O-oh but that certainly could have been fun too, nothing quite as exhilarating as getting the wind knocked out of you, eh?”

“I’m not about to throw you around like that in my kitchen. With your gangly limbs you’d bring everything on the walls down with you.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but could only make a pitiful, needy sound as she sank her teeth into the space between his shoulder and his neck. Her hands trailed up his chest, and he yelped again as the clothespins were roughly pulled off.

“Oh you poor thing,” Rosie teased, her voice mockingly sympathetic. “All swollen and red, they must hurt, hm?” He moaned and arched his back against her as she rubbed them in gentle circles.

“Rosie, oh, Rosie, please,” he whined. It was starting to become maddening, he needed more.

“Hmm? Oh, hang on a second.” The warmth of her pressed against his back left as she turned to check the pot on the stove. He whimpered, but stayed still, stiff as a board.

“Five more minutes,” she said, setting the ladle down and returning the pot’s lid. “But it would have been sooner if someone had stayed out of the kitchen.” She smacked his ass again, this time with just her hand.

“Well, uh, like you said, I just can’t help but get into trouble.”

“I know, I know. You’re such a naughty boy,” she trailed her nails lightly up and down his sides. “Whatever should I do with you?”

“Could you..?” He caught her hand and pressed it to his waistband.

“Could I … what? Speak up.”

He moaned and bucked against her hand as she nipped the soft skin of his neck.

“Please, touch me,” he cried, his voice cracking. “There, there please, I need it so badly it hurts.”

Rosie’s teeth on his neck were replaced by soft kisses pressed against already bruising skin. “Oh, that’s too bad, isn’t it? That’s a reward for good boys, and as we established, you’ve been very naughty.”

“I know, but-” his voice devolved into a groan as she pinched his nipples; his face burned as he could tell he was starting to leak pre.

“Shhh,” she crooned as she gently held his throat, feeling his pulse jump beneath her fingers. “Now, I want you to go upstairs and take care of yourself and wash up. Food’ll be ready by then. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes of course,” he panted. “Yes ma’am, I’ll be good.”

“I know you will,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek before giving his ass one last dismissive smack and turning back to the stove. “Off with you then.”

Julian had never run up a flight of stairs so fast in his whole life.

#midsummer masquerade #vesuvia after dark #julian devorak #rosie springwald #rosie #julian #lemon #mine #DAY TWO LETS GOOOOOOO\ #i had this prompt kicking around for a while and im so glad it actually fit for one of the days #minors if you so much as look at this i throw a brick at your head #this will be ported to ao3 later too

[drustvar]

Ch. 16: Erode

Asra and Rosie exchange words at the fountain. She's realized things have changed between them; and that her mentor may know far more than he's told.

WC: 1.4k + A/N: Lots of dialogue and Rosie's inner thoughts. She and Asra's dynamic makes me so sad. Also trying a new way of showing the WC. Abbreviating the number looks much cleaner. Ao3 link in reblog || full text under cut

Rosie didn’t stop running, didn’t stop looking over her shoulder until she made it to the willow tree that hung over the fountain. Asra sat with his back to her on the fountain’s edge, lazily tracing shapes in the water with his fingers. 

“Come, sit.” Asra’s voice was quiet when he spoke, and he didn’t look up at her until she had settled next to him. His expression seemed pleasant, but otherwise unreadable. But that was nothing new for Asra. 

“You said we needed to talk,” Rosie said as she fiddled absentmindedly with the cord on her dress’s belt.“...Are you mad at me?” “Why would I be mad at you?” 

Rosie shrugged and shook her head. “I dunno… I guess just runnin’ off yesterday. That’s not like me, an’ I know you musta’ been worried sick.” 

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” Asra looked at her as if he were looking through her, not at her. “Why is that, do you think?” 

‘Oh god, Asra, I’m not in the mood for riddles ,’ Rosie thought. 

“I could tell from the moment you came in for breakfast that something was wrong. What is it?” 

“Was it really that obvious?” Asra smiled and shook his head. He reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

“I hate it here,” Rosie finally said in a hushed, hoarse voice. “I hate being here, in the Palace. It makes my skin crawl. I feel like I’m always being watched. Like somethin’s waiting just around the corner to jump out at me. I feel like anythin’ I say can and will be held against me if I’m not careful. I just,” she paused, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “I just want to go home.” 

Her eyes felt hot. She felt so small and helpless, but a part of her was angry, too. Angry at Asra for having left the night the Countess came to the shop. If only he had been there to go to the Palace instead of her. It was Asra who she had wanted, anyway. Rosie was no fortune teller. She was no great magician. She was a simple hedge witch; that was all she ever was and all she ever wanted to be. ‘How could you have done that to me?’ She wanted to ask him. ‘How could you leave me alone to deal with that, to deal with this whole mess by myself?’

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

‘So then take this burden from me! ’ Rosie thought as she wiped her eyes. ‘It was you who the Countess wanted, not me! Deal with her and let me focus on keeping Julian safe, can’t you do that for me? ’

“But,” Asra sighed and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “That does loop back to one of the things I wanted to speak about. Why are you so cold to Nadia?” Rosie blinked at him. “What are you talking about? I’ve tried to be very polite. Been on my best behavior.”

“But you aren’t being you . The Rosie I know is warm and cheery. She doesn’t hide.” 

“She’s not fond of nobility, neither-” 

“Nadi isn’t like the others,” Asra cut her off, exasperation tinged his words. “Please understand that; she’s trying her best-” 

“Trying her best ?”  Rosie let out a sharp, barking laugh. “It’s hard to believe that whenever I see the dozens of orphans that live under the docks or the starving beggars on the street. All the while ‘ Nadi ’ is too busy organizing her little masquerade and trying to have Julian hanged for a murder that, if he did commit, would have been a service.” 

“She was my friend, once,” Asra said in a quiet voice. 

“Well sorry that she and I aren’t great pals,” Rosie said as she crossed her arms. ‘If this is all this is about, you’re wasting my time. Julian is waiting on me. ’

“It was long ago, during the plague,” Asra’s eyes were distant as he spoke. There was a mournfulness to his voice. “But she doesn’t remember. Her memories are gone, a lot like yours.” 

Rosie raised a brow. How could Julian, the Countess, and herself all have an empty space in their memory? ‘Asra had said I was in an accident ,’ she thought. ‘Could they have been involved, too ?’

“Asra,” she reached out to him and took one of his hands again. “Are you missing any memories?” She had never felt the need to ask before. The explanation had seemed simple, but she was starting to think the widespread amnesia was no coincidence. 

“Me? What would I be missing?” He spoke nonchalantly, but didn’t look at her. She watched as he briefly clutched the fabric covering his chest, but then the tension seemed to pass and his hand fell back to his side. “We’re all missing something,” he said softly. “But Nadi and Ilya chose to forget. It was easier that way.” 

“Chose to forget what ?” 

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Asra shook his head. “There’s more important things at play. Like trying to figure out what happened the night Lucio was killed. That’s why you and Ilya were here yesterday, isn’t it? You’re lucky Faust and Pippin let me know you were in trouble.” 

“I really cannae thank you enough. I-I really didn’t know what I was going to do if I couldn’t get that portal working in time-” 

“Rosie,” his voice was gentle as he cut her off. “Why are you helping him?” 

“I,” his question had taken her aback. “Because it feels like the right thing to do. I mean, you an’ I both know the Count had it coming, so I-I mean, I dunnae really think he deserves to hang. An’ I," she paused, her throat felt tight. “I dunnae think anyone else will. I dunnae know if anyone else can.”

“Oh, Rosie, please tell me you aren’t buying into his tortured hero act. People have tried to help him. He either doesn’t let them or he gets them hurt along the way. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.” 

“I think you’re being very unfair to him. He has a good heart.” She crossed her arms and tried to keep her tone even.

‘Is he…jealous? ’ Rosie wondered as Asra stared at her. She thought back to the day before Asra had left, how he’d held her in the kitchen so tightly she had almost believed that he could, that he did, love her. That maybe he wouldn’t leave again, or at least let her go with him. But nothing had changed. She had started to see the pattern; how Asra would get so close and be so sweet to her she could almost believe there was something between them, but then he’d draw away from her, leaving her to wonder what she had done wrong. ‘Well that’s too bad if he is ,’ She thought. ‘I’ve done my waiting. I’ve done my pining. I love Julian, and I think he loves me, too. ’ 

“Look, Asra,” Rosie got to her feet. “I know you and Julian have some kind of history. But it doesn’t concern me so if I’m being honest, I dunnae care about it. All I care about is keeping him from hanging. Will you help me or not?” 

Asra stared up at her, and for a moment she was worried he would say no. Or even worse, he wouldn’t say anything and would just walk away. 

“Seek out the Scourge of the South.” Asra’s voice sounded pained, as if the words themselves hurt to say. His shoulders slumped and grief fluttered across his face. When he finally met her eyes, they were filled with a deep sadness. “If you’re really determined to get answers, you’ll find him at the Coliseum.”

“But the Coliseum is abandoned?” 

He shook his head. “If you search, you will find him. It won’t be easy, but you will find him.” 

Rosie pursed her lips. What Asra had said was far too close to a riddle for her liking, but it was a start. 

“Thank you.”

“Please, stay safe.” Asra said, his voice barely above a whisper. Rosie reached out and gently tucked one of his curls behind his ear, her hand resting on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze before she turned to leave. Before she slipped out of the back gate, Rosie cast one last look at him over her shoulder. Asra was still seated on the edge of the fountain, staring into the water. His expression seemed both empty and yet deeply troubled, troubled in a way that she was unsure was able to be fixed. 

It was out of her hands.

#kismet #the arcana #arcana #asra #asra alnazar #rosie #rosie springwald #mine

[drustvar]

Ch. 5 : Manticore

Manticore - The Latin word for "man eater". Shenanigans backstage.

WC: 3,597 A/N: Rosie is so very stressed and uses Julian as a chewtoy. Not that he minds. Special thanks to @honeyfixations for beta'ing this chapter! Ao3 Link in reblog || Full text available under read more.

Shortly after the sounds of the market had faded behind them, Julian stopped; his eye lighting up as he stared up at the building in front of them. It was tall and windowless, weather-beaten yet still stylish. Panels of old fresco illustrating faded scenes of romance and adventure adorned its sides. Rosie tilted her head, eyeing it with curiosity. The building, along with a lack of windows, had no visible doors that she could see. If this was the café he had been talking about, it was nowhere near as busy as it should have been at that time of day. 

“So it’s still standing,” Julian laughed quietly as he stared up at the building in wonder. “I used to come here all the time, back in the day. It was an irresistible spot,” he continued, becoming more and more wistful. “High ceilings, great ambience…little booths tucked away. And underground,” he glanced back at her, his lips drawn into a sly smile. “You could lounge around for hours, just… talking . And we, ah, I’ve been meaning to say,” his smile had dropped and his voice and his voice had become somber once more. “We do. Need to talk, that is,” he trailed off as he took her hand and led her into the shadows cast by an old, rotting beam. Tucked away in the shade was a small, meandering stairwell that led to an underground entrance.

“Julian,” Rosie stopped on the last step, her hand on his arm. “Whatever it is that I’ve done wrong, I’m sorry.” “What? Rosie,” he stared at her, visibly confused as he patted her hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“I haven’t?” 

“No,” he said gently. “We just…we really need to talk. After you, my dear.” He yanked open the heavy door and ushered her inside.

‘Well if he’s not upset with me, why’s he keep dancing around it? ’ She thought as she ducked inside.  Light was scarce inside the building, what little there was fell in random shafts at varying sizes and intervals. Faded fabrics with bold, once-colorful patterns hung in crowded rows from the ceiling. There was a slim walkway that snaked through the maze of dusty, strange curios. It was bizarre, but strangely comforting.

“You aren’t being quite as subtle as you think,” she said, trying not to laugh at the way Julian peered around every corner. “I dunnae think anyone’s-” she trailed off as lilting conversation drifted over to them. She grimaced and pressed closer to his side. 

“Well,” Julian murmured. “This is all very unlike the way I remember it. The place must have gone under, that’s a shame. They used to serve this smoky tea that I haven’t been able to find since.”

“So…is this that café?” “Ah, well, no. But! It’s just as good. Or at least, it was.” He led her through a nearby makeshift-corridor. Rosie craned her neck as she tried to discern a theme in the objects that surrounded them. Huge bolts of fabric were slung over high backed chairs. A smiling, hammered metal moon hung from a wire overhead. Even more oddities came into view as they made their way through the clutter; shiny spears, a chest full of tin bells and ragged feathers, mannequins in a jumbled pile. Julian paused, his gaze drifting over the assortment. 

“Now it seems to be some kind of an oddity shop? Artifact reliquary? Antiques storage?” He shook his head. “Some kind of emporium. What a shame. Still cozy enough, though.” His hand fell to rest on her hip. The dramatic arch of his brow almost made her laugh, but he quickly looked away, something else catching his attention.

“Now, what have we here?”

Propped against the far wall was a speckled, cloudy mirror, a layer of dust visible on what was once a gilded frame. But it was hanging off of it that had caught his eye. A doctor’s mask, long and beaked just like his had been. He snatched it up, as if by instinct. 

“What’s this? It’s not really a medical mask, is it?” He turned it over in his hands, examining it with great interest. The mask looked like it was made for fashion, not function; the shape was similar, but it wasn’t completely closed off. The color was much more whimsical too, a smoky gradient with shiny gold accents. “We used to stuff the beaks with herbs,” he said quietly. “Camphor, roses, poseys…you know, when we had them. This one’s just a statement piece,” he chuckled and flipped it over, staring into the mask’s eyes. They weren’t glass, they seemed instead to be a sheer, gauzy film. Rosie looked at him and then back at the mask. There was something nostalgic in the way he looked at it.

“Do you want to put it on?” She asked quietly. His jaw dropped slightly as he considered the prospect. “If you’re suggesting that I miss the one I tossed to the eels-” 

She shrugged. “You hung onto it for all that time. An' clearly it wasn't just to protect your identity.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Let me tell you how much it pains me that you caught me then. But, you know,” he ran a finger along the mask’s beak, caressing it with some kind of careful detachment. “It doesn’t bother me half as much in black, far more sleek and fashionable, hm? Maybe I will.” Rosie nodded at him encouragingly. After another moment of consideration, he dipped his head and fastened the mask into place. 

“Well, it certainly doesn’t smell like any of the herbs we were using,” he paused to glance at his reflection. “Ha, how funny. Who would have thought that anyone would ever wear something like this for the aesthetic?” 

“I think you make it look rather dashing,” she said as she reached up to gently straighten the mask. The motion felt strangely familiar.

“Well, I may not have contributed to the world of medicine, but I suppose I made waves in the world of fashion,” he laughed. She smiled up at him, her eyes drawn along the fluid line of the beak to the shadows of his jaw. “And you say I cut a rather dashing figure in it, eh?” He grinned as he stooped closer to her height. 

'How do you suppose you’d go about kissing someone in a mask like that?’ She wondered. Her question, although unspoken, must have been visible in her expression. When Julian spoke again, his voice was lower, having taken on a velvety tone. “You think it’d be hard to kiss with one of these? Imagine kissing with two of them.” “You’d just have to clack the beaks together.” They both laughed; Rosie’s eyes were drawn to his throat and the way it moved with his laughter. She couldn’t stop herself, she lunged at his neck and caught his pale skin between her teeth. She could feel his pulse in her mouth spike and his breath hitch. His fingers tangled in her hair as he pushed her closer. She grinned and obliged, sinking her teeth in deeper. He shivered and a quiet groan escaped his lips. 

“That’s more like it,” he murmured. “Please, here, please,” he yanked his collar back, exposing more of his skin. 

“Careful,” Rosie purred as she nipped along his collarbone. “I might just eat you up.” She kissed his jaw before sinking her teeth into the spot just below it. She reached up and dug her nails into the back of his neck, winning another pleased groan. She let go, glancing at the deep red and teeth marks she had left on his skin.  He gasped, his voice heavy when he spoke. “Leave as many marks as you want, please…please.” She looked from his desperate eyes to the already fading mark. She thought for sure she’d bitten him hard enough for it to last.“Ah, the curse. Remember?” “I can outdo a curse,” she growled as she ran her tongue over her teeth. She grabbed him roughly, fingers tangled in auburn hair as she forced him to stoop lower. He moaned as she sunk her teeth into his earlobe and lightly shook, just enough to break the soft skin. She let go and tilted his head back, watching as a pearl of blood welled where her canine had sank in.  “That’s it, don’t be shy,” his words were almost slurred. She wondered if his knees were going to buckle under him. “More. More please. Give me something to remember you by.”

“Remember me by?” She asked as she watched the small beads of blood from his ear start to trail down his throat. She wanted nothing more than to lap it up. Before she could, Julian had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and whirled them around, pinning her against the mirror. 

“Oh, did I say that?” 

“I dunnae like the way you said it,” Rosie murmured as she pressed an insistent kiss to the crook of his neck. He cradled her head, gloved fingers brushing tenderly against the back of her neck. “Makes it sound like you think you’re gonna get away from me.”  “I'd never!" He laughed at the little huff she let out. "You're far too cute. I might just melt if I spend anymore time with you.” He sighed and drew her in close to his chest. She kissed his throat again, softer this time as she followed the line of his collarbone. He pet her hair, fingers weaving in and out of the thick curls. She sighed, her breath warm against his cool skin. “If you would, bite along here,” he guided her closer to the long muscle just behind his ear. She made a soft noise, not unlike a purr as she nuzzled his sideburns and pressed another kiss to his jaw. “Aw, what happened to that ferocity?” He laughed as he pressed a kiss against her brow. “You should know by now you don’t have to be gentle with me.” Rosie felt her heart skip a beat as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. He tilted her chin up and guided her mouth to his. It was soft and tender, and her chest felt lighter the longer lingered. She wanted it to last, more than anything she wanted it to last. She could tell he did, too, from the way he moved his lips against hers and the reluctant huff from his nose when they had to part.

“Sweet,” he murmured. “Sweet?” “Mm, floral, even. Wonderful umami notes.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the way his tongue swiped over his lip. “Almost too much,” he grinned and curled his fingers under her chin.  “ Too much?” She said, feigning offense. Before he could speak again, Rosie hissed and swiped at the mask, her long nails tearing through the cord that had held it in place. Julian let out a surprised noise as it clattered to the floor. 

“Oh, something wrong?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she drawled, her nails glinting in the low light as she traced his jaw. “Is it wrong to want to see your face?” When he had put on the mask, it was like a shade had passed over him; some kind of bravado he could hide behind. She wanted him to be vulnerable, because maybe then, she could be, too.

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said as he pulled her in for another kiss. She threw her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. It was easier now, of course. It all felt so much more natural, how his lips caressed hers without either of them having to tilt at an odd angle. He laughed when they parted, the low rumbling sound reverberating against her chest. “It looked strange on me, anyway. That one and the one I wore back then,” he said. “Shame on me letting something so unpleasant come between us.” A look crossed his face and his smile suddenly faded. Rosie pouted as his arm slipped away from her shoulder. Before she could ask him what was wrong, a miserable wail ripped through the air. 

“Did you hear that?” Julian’s gaze darted from side to side. “Of course I did! We ought to get out of here,” she hissed as she scooped the mask up off of the floor. “Humor me and stay close,” he said, as he retied the mask sloppily back over his face. He took her hand and pressed a finger to his lips. They slowly crept in the direction of the wailing, ducking under beams and stepping over broken bottles. Eventually, they emerged out of the maze of bizarre items. Before them hung heavy, velvet curtains, parted by a thin beam of red light.

“We need to get out of here,” she hissed as she tugged on his hand. She was answered by another wail from just beyond the curtain. “Julian?” She peered around him. Through the gap in the curtains she could see a figure, clad in sheer scarlet robes, heaving and sobbing against a shredded daybed. Stranger still, they wore a porcelain half-mask that had anguish streaked mascara running down the sculpted cheek; it glinted in the stage light. 

“Wait up in my room? On my birthday?” The figure wailed again, their voice cracking in exaggerated pitch. “What do you expect me to do all night in here? Clomp around in my hooves? Beg the bus-boy for table scraps? If I can’t disgust anyone doing it, what is the point!” 

“Oh my god.” “What the hell is this?” Rosie’s curiosity of the bizarre scene had overridden her insistence that they needed to escape. “That’s fantastic,” Julian laughed quietly. “It sounds just like him.” “Who? Is that-” she glanced at the person on stage, who was now sloppily drinking from a bottle of wine. “Is that supposed to be Count Lucio?” ' Can’t even see him well, but I’m sure he’s too handsome for the part,’ she thought.

“Was he really such a whiny bitch?” “Tenfold when he didn’t get his way the exact moment he demanded it.” 

She squinted against the stage lights. She could see that the theater was packed up to the rafters. Evidently, mocking the late count was prime entertainment in South End.

“Well I’m glad to see that the arts are flourishing,” Julian said. “A renaissance may have begun since I’ve been away. But, if this is Lucio on the night of his birthday…you don’t suppose this is a show about the mur-” 

Everything seemed to happen at once. The audience outside was roaring with laughter as Lucio’s actor threw himself onto the bed and wept. At the same time, a sandbag fell between Julian and Rosie. The curtain was beginning to roll shut, but as it did, a rope snagged taut around his ankle and dragged him into the air. “Julian!” She was too stunned to do anything but watch, not  that there was much she could have done. He hung suspended over the actor on stage, just out of view of anyone in the audience. He thrashed around like a worm on a hook, until he knocked something gleaming out of his boot: a knife. She swore under her breath as she watched him swing upwards and catch the rope coiled around his ankle. He severed it and fell, landing in a splayed heap right in the Count’s lap. “Doctor Devorak!” The actor lit up. “Here to cure my boredom!” Shrieking laughter and applause erupted from the audience. Julian leapt to his feet, visibly gulping. He briefly met Rosie’s eyes from where she stood, still hidden in the curtain’s shadow. He looked out at the crowd and then at Lucio’s actor. He let out a sharp bark of laughter and turned, looming over the Count. “Not doing too well, are you my poor, poor patient,” he laughed again, deep and menacing. “I’m afraid the clock strikes thirteen for you tonight.” He yanked back his glove and let it go with a loud snap. Lucio’s actor fell back, gasping and clutching his chest. “Whatever will you do?” Smother me with your thighs?” “For the hundredth time, no . I hope you savored that gasp Lucio, for it will be your last.” 

They dove at one another and tussled on the bed, feathers flying everywhere as the crowd roared with laughter.  As amusing as it was, Rosie found herself becoming increasingly anxious. If this was a common occurrence, who all was in the audience? What would stop the Countess from sending guards to storm the theater if she found out they were mocking the murder of her late husband? She looked around at the clutter that surrounded her backstage, desperate for an idea. On the stage, Lucio’s actor reared back and drew a wobbly sword from behind the daybed. “Give me a real fight, man on man! We’ll see who takes the last breath then!” Lucio said as he took a wide fighting stance. “If it’s a fight you want,” Julian paused as a stagehand shoved a sword into his hand before they scurried away. “It’s a fight you’ll get! En garde!”

'Nope ,’ Rosie thought as she grabbed a heavy black cloak and threw it over herself. ‘ Even if those are just props, I’m not risking it !’ In her hurry, she knocked over several glass bottles that sent an eerie colored fog drifting out over the stage as she stalked out of the shadows.

The audience gasped at the cloaked figure that was creeping, silently,  jerkily onstage. Lucio’s actor let out a terrified shriek, dropping his sword and pointing. Julian never missed a beat, leaping to the side out of her way. “I warned you, Lucio! Death has come for you!” 

Rosie pointed at Lucio, the stage lights making her long nail seem like a crooked, ghastly claw. “Noo! It can’t be!” Lucio squealed and grabbed for his sword, managing to bump it off the stage, much to the audience’s amusement. Rosie took another step forward, remaining silent as she swiped at him.

“Devorak, d-do something! I’ll do anything, anything! Don’t let me die!” The Count’s actor scrambled backwards, the fog swirling around him like ghostly hands. “I did all I could for you, it’s out of my hands,” Julian said. “Say your last words Lucio, and may the fires that burn you on the way down burn brighter than any before!” He whirled around, his cape sending the fog swirling wildly. Lucio’s actor let out a terrified scream that ended in a convincing gurgle as he slumped over, obscured by the mist. The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping as the curtain dropped abruptly. As soon as they were out of sight, Rosie grabbed Julian’s hand and spirited him away. “That was easier than I thought it would be,” he said, looking very pale as they ducked into a hidden corner. “Ah, and you, Rosie.” His gaze was full of admiration as she threw back the cloak’s hood. “That was brilliant! Why didn’t you tell me  you were an actress?” 

“I’m not,” she said as she shrugged off the heavy fabric. “Oh, but you should be! Such grace, such a commanding presence! Why, you even had me convinced the reaper herself had entered our midst.”

“I didn’t, I-” she looked away, her ears pink as she let out a small laugh. “Was I really that good?” “Inspiring,” Julian swept her under his arm. She laughed as he dipped her close to the floor. “I had just gotten scared. I knew the swords were fake, but…” She trailed off. Just the thought of him being hurt had made her see red. “After everything, the rope and that fall, I just didn’t know what else was going to happen.”

“Ah, well,” he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Glad to see we can both think on our feet.”

|| The two made their way back along the same winding path as before until they were outside in the sun again. Rosie stopped in the stairwell, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I was so worried,” she said quietly. “I know South End is safe. I know the people here like you, but, all it would take is one tip to the guards, and then...and then,” she could feel her voice starting to break.  “Rosie,” Julian hugged her back and pet her hair. “I know it certainly caught me off guard, falling right into the spotlight like that. But I don’t think anyone realized it was really me.” Her pulse was still racing. One look into her worried eyes made his expression falter. “Right. So that, er, that wasn’t what I had in mind. Let me try this again,” he took both of her hands in his, something forlorn swimming in his gaze. “Rosie, let's head over to the Raven for a bite to eat. If…” he paused, brushing his thumbs over the back of her hands. “If you’d be so forgiving as to join me? My treat, of course. And uh, after that…a nice walk down to the docks. How does that sound?”

A meal did sound tempting, especially as Rosie came to the realization that she hadn’t eaten anything all day. But more than that, she hoped he would finally tell her what was on his mind; whatever it was, it was driving her crazy not to know. He’d said she hadn’t done anything wrong, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeply upsetting had come between them. 

#rosie #rosie springwald #julian #julian devorak #kismet #arcana #the arcana #mine

[eeltime]

Rosie casual outfits / wardrobe exploration  These were inspired heavily by pidgin dolls made by @misery-lake, they’re super cute and fun to draw! *I have a second set in the works but I don’t wanna wait to post lol* ♥

#mine #rosie #rosie springwald #2022 #costume design #two of them r repeats theyre her default and secondary / palace but the other two r brand new #just been wanting to doodle stuff she'd wear

[eeltime]

Rosie fursona time (Φ ᆺ Φ) yes that is the “weird fuckin cat outside” in the corner sklsgjdgh

#rosie #rosie springwald #anthro #furry #mine #2022

[drustvar]

Ch. 3: Candle Glow

“Now, I was told you’d have to be pinned down in order to get any rest.”  “Oho, well-” he was cut off as she suddenly gripped his jaw, tilting his chin up with one of her long nails. “But I think you’re more than capable of being a good boy who does as he’s told, right?”

WC: 3,191 A/N: It's still Valentine's day, I'm not off schedule shhh. Soup and hints of dommy mommy Rosie ♥ Ao3 Link in reblog || Full text available under read more.

The inside of the cottage was humid and warm. Julian ducked under a row of brass bells, managing to miss them enough that they only faintly tinkled as he passed them. His arm lingered around Rosie’s waist as he scanned the room. It was wide with a low ceiling, simple shelves and crates lined the walls. In the center was a ladder that led up to an open hatch above;  they were clearly in someone’s cellar. Julian’s hair brushed the ceiling, showering his shoulders with dirt.

“Mazelinka? Sorry to drop in like this. It’s the guards,” he called in a hushed voice, but received no answer. “Mazelinka!” He called louder. Again, silence. “Huh, I don’t know if she’s home.” 

“And who’s home have we broken into now?” Rosie asked, leaning to peer at the jars of preserves stacked nearby. There were dozens, forming a muted rainbow.

“We haven’t broken in! Okay, we did,” Julian said. “But desperate times call for dubious measures. Anyway,” he peered up through the open hatch. “She seems to be out. Lucky for us; she doesn’t like it when I come in through the window.” He startled, whipping around to look back at their point of entry. “Oh no, the window! Did we step on them?” 

Rosie looked over her shoulder at the curled, yellow flower tendrils that had been growing on the dirt windowsill. The flowers were a little tattered, but seemed fine. The petals furled and unfurled curiously after them. “Bright Graspers,” she murmured. Asra had brought her some once, after one of his trips. She’d unfortunately had to cull them after they had kept trying to grab Pippin’s tail.

Julian held one of the tendrils in his hands and shook his head. “Look at that, completely trampled. I’m in for an earful.”  The floorboards above them began to creak, and  heavy footsteps announced the arrival of a stout old woman peering down the hatch at them. 

“Ilya! Did you come through the window again, you slippery boy?” 

Julian gave Rosie an apologetic smile before he sighed and climbed up the ladder, wincing as he smacked his head against the hatch’s edge. The older woman stood waiting for them, wrapped in a faded shawl and with a heavy wooden ladle in one hand. He straightened up and offered her his arm, stooping to kiss her cheek.

“Ah, Mazelinka, aren’t you a sight for the sore eye. Love the shawl, is it new?”

“You know it isn’t,” Mazelinka said as she shook her ladle. “I thought you might be about  when I saw the guards poking around the wall. Oh,” she nudged him aside with the ladle to peer around him at Rosie. “And who do we have here?” “This is Rosie, a… a new friend of mine.” The old woman looked her up and down, weathered eyes honing in on her wet clothes. “Did you pull her out of the surf?” “Fished me out of the canal, actually,” Rosie said. Mazelinka laughed heartily and patted her arm. Looking  around at the dried herbs hanging and the cauldron on the hearth, she started to feel a kinship with the older woman. They were clearly witches of the same trade. “Well, make yourself comfortable, Rosie.” The old woman nodded at the small table. She glanced one last time into the cellar, grumbling  at the state of the flowers on the windowsill. “Ah, I did that. I take full responsibility for that, I wasn’t thinking and I-” “Don’t fit through the door, I know your old excuse,” Mazelinka said, smacking Julian’s hand with her spoon. “Make yourself useful and go find the girl some dry clothes,” she ignored Rosie’s protests and continued. “And get me my round pot, too.”  Julian  hurriedly ducked into an adjacent room, the sound of cabinets being opened and rifled through following soon after. Mazelinka clucked her tongue and turned back to Rosie.

“Poor thing. I’ve seen half-drowned bilge rats in better shape than you.” 

“I’m fine, really,” Rosie said. “He took care of me,” she nodded at the doorway Julian had disappeared through. 

“He’d look after everyone if he could,” Mazelinka said as she gathered dry petals into a mortar. Julian returned with a bundle of clothes under one arm and a copper pot tucked under the other.

“I, uh, wasn’t sure what you’d like, so,” Julian said as he hastily dropped the clothes into Rosie’s lap. “Anything that’s dry'll do,” Rosie smiled as she brushed past him and ducked into the adjacent room for privacy. || Rosie could hear Julian and Mazelinka talking as she peeled off her wet clothes. She didn’t pay much attention to their conversation, something about the guards and trampled flowers and soup. The shirt she pulled on was a soft linen, with red embroidery around the collar and sleeves. It was short on her, barely long enough to be worn as a dress. But it was dry and comfortable and at the moment that was all that mattered to her. Julian’s gaze lingered on her when she returned, and he gave her a weary smile when their eyes met.

“Oh, good. She can take your hand-me-downs,” Mazelinka said as she glanced up from the counter. “Pasha’s shoulders were never broad enough.” 

Rosie placed her hand over Julian’s when he went to open the cabinet next to her. His hazy eye fluttered as he met her eyes. 

“You need to sit down,” she said, gently squeezing his hand before she herded him into one of the chairs. 

“I’m fine, really,” he sat awkwardly. His legs were too long for the small chair, and he vaguely resembled a man-sized grasshopper. 

“Nope. Show me that bite,” Rosie ordered as she rolled up her sleeves. Julian sighed and cast a furtive glance at their host. She had her back turned to them, busy over the cauldron. 

“You really won’t leave me alone about it, hm?” 

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Ah, that’s what I thought.” He unfastened the bottom of his jacket and slowly lifted the bloodied shirt underneath. “What do you think? Good as new?” She couldn’t even tell where the wound had been. The skin was perfectly smooth, not puckered and discolored like whenever she or Asra used magic to close a wound. It was perfect , uncannily so. “Are you impressed?” Julian asked quietly. “It’s your master’s magic, shouldn’t be a big surprise for you.”

She shook her head. “Asra’s magic isn’t that perfect.”  ‘ No mage’s is, ’ she thought, her thin brows furrowing.  A sudden, loud bubbling from the cauldron drew their attention. Rosie, unable to hide her curiosity, crept over. Mazelinka didn't seem to notice her, she was too busy rolling a sprig of pale, dried herbs between her fingers. “Worrywort’s gone stale,” the old woman huffed. “I’ve got more in the garden. Watch that pot, will you?” She nodded at Rosie before she grabbed a rusted knife and weaved around them to the door, leaving the two alone with just the sound of the cauldron bubbling. As soon as the door had shut behind her, Julian slumped heavily against the table, barely propping himself up on his arm.  “Huh, never would have thought that a bite like that would take so much out of me,” he said. “Not to belittle yours, mind you. I’ve treated a few dozen, unfortunately…” he trailed off, staring at Rosie. “You’re the first to make it. Well, you and I.” His gaze was soft in the flickering light, until a shadow seemed to overcome him and he quickly looked away. “They’re not aggressive, the eels. And they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. For the Count. Had them imported from their native waters to try and impress the nobility.” 

Rosie raised her brows at him in question. But he said nothing, just watched her.‘ Am I really standing across from a murderer? ’ She wondered. ‘ The killer of a tyrant? Or an innocent man framed for a coup? ’ She never broke their shared gaze, even as the cauldron next to her began to bubble again. “Did you really do it?” She finally asked. Julian’s eye widened and darted to the floor, then to the ceiling. He looked everywhere and at everything except her. She could practically hear his pulse beginning to race. His chest shook with low, nervous laughter. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m always asking myself that question. When you ask it,” he trailed off, shaking his head. “It feels less…damning, I suppose. Did I really do it? If I told you the truth, would you believe me?”    “I would,” Rosie said quietly as she grabbed a ladle hanging next to the hearth and stirred. ‘ And I’d think you were right, if you did, ’ she thought. ‘ I’d think you’d have done what should’ve been done long ago. ’

“I know I wouldn’t,” he sighed. “But I’ll let you decide for yourself, Rosie.” He steepled his finger as he finally looked at her again. “Did I do it…did I murder him, the Count? What if I told you I don’t remember?” 

“I-” she hadn’t expected  him to say that. Before she could give him an answer, Mazelinka had already bustled back inside and started to scold him again. “Ilya, you’re barely able to stand. When was the last time you slept?” 

“Ah, well, ever since the curse I don’t really need to the way I used to, dear.” “Says who? Don’t roll your eyes at me. Curse-shmurse.”  Julian shied away from the older woman, his gaze fell to the floor before sliding back up to meet Rosie’s. Mazelinka raised a brow as she glanced at both of them.  “I’m fine, really. Haven’t felt this good in a while.” Mazelinka shook her head as she tossed a handful of sand and fresh sprigs of worrywort into the cauldron. “I’ll be very happy for you after you’ve rested. Go on, shoo,” she gestured with her spoon, sending droplets of broth through the air. “Just until the soup is done,” he sighed heavily. Rosie felt his eye wandering over her on a slow, thorough path, completely fixated. “Just ‘til the soup is done,” Mazelinka snorted. “Will you survive that long without her?”

“I’ll survive,” Julian murmured as he swept toward the other doorway, this one blocked off by a curtain. He paused as he passed Rosie, stopping to squeeze her hand. “You’ll have to excuse me, Rosie,” he said quietly. “You two get along fantastically, I'm already sure.” His fingertips lingered against her palm as he pulled away, vanishing behind the curtain. Rosie shared a look with Mazelinka. The older woman cracked her well-worn knuckles and let out a billowing sigh.  “He won’t do it. He’ll be pacing around unless someone pins him to the bed,” she paused, glancing at Rosie from the corner of her eye. “One of us needs to keep an eye on the brew, though.” She threw another handful of sand into the cauldron, sending a fragrant plume of steam spiraling up from the broth. “Rosie, you’re the guest. Would you rather watch him, or shall I?”

“I’ll, uh,” Rosie fluffed the back of her hair, staring at the curtain Julian had disappeared behind. She hoped the fire wasn’t bright enough for the color creeping across her cheeks to be visible. “I’ll go keep an eye on him, I suppose...”

 “Brew won’t be long,” Mazelinka grunted and nodded at the partition.

|| Rosie was sure her ears were red enough to be seen through her hair as she ducked around the curtain. The room was small, little more than a bed and a stool that served as a nightstand; all lit by a single tallow candle. Julian sat on the edge of the bed, his undershirt loose around his shoulders. His gloves and jacket had been unceremoniously thrown into a pile on the floor. He looked up from the boot he was fumbling with when she entered. His smile gleamed in the candlelight, wily but tired.

“Rosie, did you come to tuck me in?” The clasp on his boot clicked open, seeming to punctuate his question. “I won’t last long, I’m afraid. For all my bluster, I know when I’m beat. When it comes to this curse, it takes as long as it takes.” He stared at the candle, watching the flame flicker back and forth. “Whether I like it or not. Isn’t it amazing? Stab me in the back, and I’ll walk it off. But the actual healing, healing something deeper than a superficial wound, that’ll take everything I’ve got…I can’t escape it.” 

Rosie shook her head. “Magic like that, like what you’ve got on your shoulders is seldom easy,” she said gently. “Nor is it pleasant. I’m sorry.” 

Before he could say anything else, they were interrupted by their host peeking around the curtain, a steaming bowl in her hands. 

“Drink.” Mazelinka ordered as she shoved the bowl at Julian before turning to Rosie. “Will you be staying the night as well?” 

Julian sneezed, warily eyeing the bowl and its strong, fragrant contents. “Oh, it’s that kind of soup?” 

“I won’t let you run yourself into the grave. You’re still human, Ilya. Whether you think so or not.” 

He mumbled something in protest. Mazelinka sighed and took the bowl back from him, placing it into Rosie’s hands instead.

“Be a dear and see that he drinks that, will you? I have a feeling he’ll take whatever you give.” 

“What for? I’m fine, really. Not even feeling the least tired-” he was interrupted by his own yawning. Mazelinka gave Rosie’s arm a firm pat before she ducked back under the curtain and left the two alone again.  “She makes that soup when I can’t sleep,” Julian said as he watched the curtain settle. “Bless her. Even when I’m beyond stress, raving and beating my wings against the walls… Don’t know what she puts in it.” Rosie peered into the shimmering, golden brew, the steam warm against her face. She dipped one of her nails in and tasted it, keenly aware of Julian watching her. Warm light gleamed off his tongue as he licked the seam of his lips. “Lavender. Dreamfoil,” she murmured. “Lots of chamomile and honey, too.” “Tastes fantastic, doesn’t it?” It did. She was tempted to drink it all herself. But Julian’s eyes stopped her, the way he stared at her mouth; in invitation or distraction she couldn’t tell.  Her lip curled as she set the bowl down on the stool next to them. She fixed him with a narrow gaze, her hands on her hips. 

“Now, I was told you’d have to be pinned down in order to get any rest.” 

“Oho, well-” he was cut off as she suddenly gripped his jaw, tilting his chin up with one of her long nails. “But I think you’re more than capable of being a good boy who does as he’s told, right?” “I,” he flushed scarlet, melting in her grip. “I, uh, yes. Absolutely. Yes.” His last word was desperate, eager to please. She smiled down at him and pat his cheek, pressing the bowl into his hands. 

“That’s what I thought. Drink up.” 

She settled onto the bed next to him and leaned against his shoulder. He eagerly gulped down the soup, so fast she was worried he would choke. When the bowl was empty he let out an airy, satisfied sigh. She watched as his tongues swiped the corner of his mouth before slipping behind grinning teeth. “Good boy,” she said, patting his leg. “May I, uh, have a reward?” His voice was heavy.  “I suppose you’ve earned one,” she purred as curious fingers curled around the back of her neck. She leaned eagerly towards him, his eye fluttering shut as their lips met. Was it her own pulse quickening or his? His lips were smoother than she’d expected; the way his mouth caressed hers and drew her in. The taste was smokey, filling her senses and making her want more. 

“That’s enough for now you two.” Mazelinka rapped her spoon against the wall, startling the couple. Rosie let out an embarrassed squeak as she squirmed out of Julian’s arms. “I, uh, we,” Julian wiped his mouth and looked like he was wishing for neither of his eyes to work. Mazelinka just clucked her tongue and threw a blanket over him. She turned back to Rosie, her dark eyes twinkled knowingly.  “I trust you’ll be sharing the bed? Unless you’d rather sleep in the hidey hole, and I’ll cozy in with him.” Rosie glanced back at Julian, who’d since freed himself from the blanket. He cleared his throat and leaned back casually, trying to look as though he wasn't intently watching and waiting for her answer. She fluffed her hair, trying to ignore the way her ears burned. “I’ll stay here with him.” She could see his face split into an embarrassed grin, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“There you have it, dear,” Julian waved Mazelinka off. “Don’t worry, I’ll be an absolute gentleman.” 

“Oh, will you? Rosie, I expect you’ll hold him to that.” 

“Absolutely,” he leaned forward to wrap his arms around her and rest his chin on her shoulder. “Hold me however you want.” 

“I may be the one you need to watch out for,” Rosie laughed and ruffled his hair. Mazelinka rolled her eyes and gathered his discarded belongings before she swept out of the room. 

“Get some sleep  already,” The old woman said as the partition drifted shut behind her. “That I can’t promise you,” Julian called as Mazelinka’s footsteps shuffled away. He turned back to Rosie, laughing as she headbutted his shoulder. “Are you goin’ to make room for me?” “Ah, of course. My apologies.” He scooted back, sprawling his long form out artfully and waggling his brows as he patted the spot next to him. She grinned and playfully pushed him as she settled under the covers next to him. His skin was warm, almost as though he had a low fever. Between his warmth and smokey smell, it felt as though she'd curled up next to a campfire, cozy and safe. 

“I hope I’m not coming on too strong,” he said quietly as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. “Oh, I’d really love to make something real with you.” His tone suddenly took on a bittersweet note, his hair falling into his eye. “If we had more time…” “What do you mean?” She asked as she tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. He startled at her touch, before he seemed to remember where he was. “Ah, don’t mind me. Just rambling…I must be really exhausted,” he gently tilted her jaw, guiding her  to kiss him again, lingering against her as if he expected her to disappear. “Goodnight, Rosie,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over her lips one last time.  “Goodnight,” she said. With a snap of her fingers, the candle flickered out. ‘ I can’t shake this feeling ,’ she thought as she snuggled closer against him. ‘ This familiarity, like I’ve slept beside him a hundred times before… ’

#why yes i tweaked the format slightly again bc i had forgot that tumblr hides posts w links for chapter 2 #anyway. SOUP TIME #julian you have no idea what youre getting into. this girl is fucking crazy #rosie #rosie springwald #arcana #the arcana #julian #julian devorak #kismet #mine

[drustvar]

Ch.9: Chameleon

Sneaking around with a stolen face doesn't go quite as planned.

WC: 3,062 A/N: I know, I know. Another 3k chapter. I just couldn't find a good place to chop it other than its natural ending :"). Rosie's accent really pops a bit in this one, she's stressed AF Ao3 Link in reblog || Full text available under read more.

Rosie quickly began to regret her choice in illusions as Julian spent the entire journey back to the Palace practicing his Asra impersonation. Having to take on Asra’s appearance seemed to have sobered him faster than anything else could have. He also walked at twice the speed she and Portia did, and the two women were out of breath by the time they had reached the bridge to the Palace.

“How do you suppose he’d be feeling at this moment?” Julian asked as he glanced back at them. “Like a lamb entering a den of wolves? Or maybe a wolf entering a den of vipers? Hmm, vipers he probably wouldn’t mind, he and Faust would fit right in.” 

“Well for starters, Asra walks at my pace,” Rosie said as she doubled over to catch her breath. Marble squeaked under his heels as he came to an abrupt halt. He turned to her, his brow deeply furrowed. 

“Faust, that’s the snake’s name, isn’t it?” She nodded, and his brow creased further. He rubbed his temples in irritation. “I-I remember the snake. She nearly squeezed the life out of me, once.” 

“Pythons tend to do that. They’ve got no venom,” she said. He’d been trying to hide the anxious melancholy that had hung around him since they had left the tavern, but it had only become more and more apparent. He had kept a constant, careful distance between them. She wished she could reach out to him, to hook her arm in his and provide her shoulder for support. 

“So it’s safe to say he would be surprised. When he’s surprised, is he more of a…this? Or more like this?” He made an exaggerated expression followed by a slightly less campy one. 

“Neither. He has an excellent poker face.” 

“Hey, Ilya,” Portia said as she grabbed her brother’s arm. “I know this is gonna be a challenge, but try not to talk so much, okay?” 

“Oh no, naturally not. Asra doesn’t talk much. Believe me, it’s hard to maintain such an aura of mystery once you open your mouth.” 

“Maybe he was just quiet around you?” She teased. “You’ve got a real bad habit of doing the talking for everyone, Ilyushka.” The Palace threshold loomed over them. Despite the structure shining beautifully in the sun, it felt hostile. Portia took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before she thrust her arms against the great doors and led the way inside. The doors shut heavily behind them with a sound of grinding stone that made Rosie’s ears ring.  “Stay behind me an’ let me do the talking,” Rosie said as she grabbed Julian’s hand. He murmured something quietly, and she felt his thumb ghost over her knuckles. 

“This is weird, where is everybody?” Portia asked as they made their way through empty marble halls. “Well, uh, where can I take you first, oh great magicians?” 

“The bedroom, of course. Bring us to the room where the dark deed was done.” “Oh dear,” Rosie couldn’t keep herself from laughing. “You had really better let me do the talking.”

“What? I’m doing great! Uh, aren’t I?” “Tone down the theatrics. By like, a lot…and don’t walk like that.” 

��Walk like what? I’m walking like normal!” “Asra doesn’t walk like that, though. He’s kind of…floaty. The way you hold yourself looks more like a hare ready to run for his life.” 

He let out an indignant huff. “And I’m the one being theatrical?” “But am I wrong? Certainly doesn’t help that you’re so much shorter now, no longer as imposin’.” 

Portia sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Guys, as cute as it is to watch you two bicker,” she tapped her foot. “Are we going to the Count’s room or not?”  || The hounds were nowhere to be seen as the three made their way to the Count’s abandoned wing. Rosie took this as a good sign; she had a feeling her illusion wasn’t advanced enough to fool animals, especially if they had known Julian from before. Sounds echoed from the end of the hall, only adding to the haunting atmosphere. Rosie could feel Julian tensing beside her. “Didn’t you say that no one ever comes to these rooms anymore?”

“Nope, never,” Portia said as she peered ahead into the gloom. “In the years I’ve been here, nobody does if they don’t have to. And when they do…Let’s just say there are a lot of stories floating around downstairs. People have heard things, seen things!”  Rosie wrapped her fingers around her amulet, once again reminded of the ghostly being that had cornered her on her first night in the Palace. A faint moan drifted through the rafter just as they reached the door to the bedroom. Julian bristled from head to toe, and Rosie squeezed his hand tightly. Portia turned the handle, and to their surprise the door was already unlocked. Just as she started to push the door open, a crash shook the room from the inside. Rosie swore and pushed closer against Julian as the door swung open before them. The room was a flurry of activity on the inside; servants scrubbed at every surface, trying to dislodge years of grime. Huge, sweeping  streaks of ash coated the wall behind the canopied bed. The Countess stood beside it, her eyes wide as she looked at each of them in turn. 

“Portia, there you are.” In a flash, her composure had returned. “Hello, Rosie. It is good to see you are well again. As you can see, we are at last attending to the ruin of this room. There have been a number of…curious accidents.” She paused, her eyes settling on Julian-Asra. “Who is this?” 

“I am the majulian—magician Asra, here to help my apprentice help you, Countess.” As Nadia stepped closer, Rosie could feel the hair on the back of her neck begin to bristle. “Asra, at least we meet.” “Y-yes, I’d have offered my help earlier you see, but I was on a, uh, quest to open my third ear.” “Third…ear?” 

“Eye! He meant eye. I’d had an ear ache so ears ‘ave been on the mind, isn’t that right, dear?” Rosie shot him a look that effectively shut him up.

“I see. Well,” Nadia paused. “I simply thought we might have met before, but you are indeed a stranger to me. Or perhaps my eyes deceive me; it is terribly dim. Perhaps if that lamp was lit?” The Countess pointed to a sconce covered in cobwebs, too high on the wall to be reached without magic. From the corner of her eye, Rosie could see Julian swallowing hard. “Oh, goodness!” Rosie shouted and pointed to a darkened corner of the room. “What in the world could that be?!” As the Countess turned, Rosie made sure to step between her and Julian. “What is it? Oh, my.” Rosie had hoped that she could shrug it off as a rat or a stray cobweb, but no, something was actually there. The portrait of the late Count was smoking. Its eyes appeared to be dripping red, as if they were bleeding. Several of the servants gasped, and one even fainted into the arms of another. “That is uh, that is a bad omen.” 

“Indeed,” The Countess’ voice was quiet and unwavering.

 Portia laughed nervously and clapped her hands. “Oh, don’t worry about that, milady! I’ll take care of it!”  “Don’t go near it,” Rosie said in a hoarse whisper. But Portia didn’t hear her, just grabbed a nearby ladder and hurried to the portrait and scrubbed at its eyes with a rag. Rosie wheezed and clutched her amulet as she watched a shape form in the corner, white smoke rising and coalescing  into a vague, human sized shape. She reached behind her for Julian, who clutched her arm. To her horror, the smoke darted across the room and slammed into the ladder.

“My heavens, Portia!”

Portia landed in the Countess’ arms as the ladder came crashing down.

“So quick!” Julian said, as Rosie hung onto his arm, trying not to shake. “That was a feat of amazing foresight, Countess. Almost as if you saw the future. You may have uh, abilities in magic.”

Nadia gave him a curious look as she set Portia on the ground. “I wonder…Perhaps when I am through here, I shall join you both in the investigation.” 

“In the library!” Portia said, having recovered from her fall. “Investigating the library.” “Yes, a perfect place to start. I believe you keep the keys.” 

“I, uh, yes! Yes I have them," she coughed and waved some lingering dust away. "Follow me." As soon as the door had shut behind them, Rosie grabbed their hands and dragged them to the end of the hall as fast as she could. Once they had put some distance between themselves and the Count’s room, Julian’s fine control of the Asra facade broke. His face split into a grin, one that was unmistakably his own. 

“I think that went well.” “Oh sure, fantastic,” Portia said as she punched his shoulder. “Well, what do you think, Rosie?” Rosie didn’t answer, she was still staring back the way they had come. “Rosie?” She jumped and hissed quietly when he put his hand on her arm. “Sorry, I,” she ran a hand through her hair and tried to breathe. “I’m sorry. I-I cannae go back there, not again.” Julian put an arm around her and pulled her close, trying to comfort her. “E-everytime I’ve been there somethin’ happens I-” she shook her head. “Let’s just…Let’s just get to the library.” The Devoraks exchanged a brief, worried glance. “Of course. This way,” Portia said, leading the three once more away from the darkened wing.  ||

The illusion Rosie had cast fully unraveled once the locks on the library door clicked behind them. It was as if a sheer fabric dropped off Julian’s frame and evaporated like dew, how quickly “Asra” vanished. 

“Well, that was certainly an experience,” he said, looking at his arms—now his again. “I may not know magic, but there’s definitely something going on here. Something beyond my knowledge. Luckily for us, we’re at a library, so let's see what we can learn.”  The pair began to snake through the stacks, weaving through the shelves that rose up around them like protective walls. Julian’s eye scanned the rows quickly as his fingers fluttered over the spines. Rosie followed his lead as they slowly made their way deeper and deeper into the shelves. By the time they had reached his desk, he had grabbed at least a dozen different books.

“All these books, and I just kept coming back to this same old desk, just around the corner. It’s coming back to me…it’s close at the back of my mind. I can just taste it.” 

“Right. Let’s get studying then, I suppose.” Rosie said, before she noticed his gaze lingering on her before he bashfully looked at the ground. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad at you,” she said as she grabbed one of the books from the pile and began to flip through it. “If I were mad at you, you’d know.” 

He sighed and looked past her. “You’re not, huh? You know, Rosie, they do say there’s such a thing as being too forgiving.” 

“I was never mad, but I was—I am, frustrated,” she snapped the book shut. “You’ve no idea how much I want to help you. I dunnae care the cost. I mean, what have I got to lose, really? I’ve not got much, if we’re being completely honest.” 

Julian opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to silence him and continued. “I know, you would love for me to be angry. To be acting like a woman scorned and to punish you. But that’s not how I feel. You punish yourself enough as it is.” 

He didn’t respond, his eye had grown wide as he quickly stepped around her and stood in front of the desk, staring at it. It was still cluttered and unassuming, but not exactly. She could tell it had been touched. “This isn’t just any desk…this is my desk.”

“Pippin didn’t do this,” Rosie murmured as she stared at one of the drawers that had been left slightly ajar. “Pippin? Who’s Pippin?”  “My familiar.” 

He didn’t dwell on that information, he was instead fixated entirely on the desk. He started to frantically dig through its contents; papers fluttered in the air, covered in meticulous drawings and logs. Rosie plucked one from the air and studied the image: it depicted a scarab beetle of some kind. Something about it drew her in, so much so she hardly noticed how still Julian had gone. His arm was trembling; clenched tightly in his hand was an oily metal key with a red stone in the eye. As she stared at it, she could feel the blood roaring in her ears. Something about that key…it felt so familiar. As if she had had one of her own before. But that couldn’t have been possible, she reasoned. 

“This is it. This is what was calling to me,” Julian spoke quietly. “Don’t ask me how I know, but I know. It’s not any of these old scrawlings. It’s this!” He tossed the key in the air, snatching it on the way down and pocketing it; a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. “I’m one step closer.” He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to the desk, an adoring grin plastered on her face. “If it wasn’t for you, dearest Rosie, I’d still be two behind.” 

“I really didn’t, oh!” He swept her around victoriously in his arms, only stopping when his nose was an inch from hers. “Rosie-”

A horrible screech came from the window, sending them scrambling to hide in the nearest corner, pressing close together as they tried to stay as far out of view as possible. She watched him, the way he swallowed nervously and the sweat that beaded on his brow as they both stared at the window, fearful of discovery. He took a slow, deep breath, his face  reddening as his chest pressed against hers. 

“Just…just a bird. Sorry,” he said. His gaze slowly drifted downward, pausing at every point of contact between their bodies. He bit his lip as a low groan rumbled at the back of his throat. 

‘Already?’ She thought as she raised a brow at him. 

“About everything, I’m sorry,” he said as he hung his head, looking to askance to face her any longer. “I don’t know what I was thinking, pushing you away like I did. Temporary madness, driven by despair, I guess. It perhaps goes without saying that I find you very, very attractive. Whether,” he paused as he took another shaky breath. “Whether I’m destined to hang or not. And if by some miracle, you see something attractive in me, too. Ah, but for what? I pace, I drink, I tear my hair out. And I still don’t know what to do. Rosie…what do you want me to do?” He finally looked at her, a fiery passion burning in his eye. 

“Stop moping and kiss me,” She grinned at the way his eye widened and the way he stared her down, as if unsure he’d heard correctly. “Do I need to repeat myself?” She took a step closer and pressed a hand to his chest.

“Well, if you insist.” 

Gloved, leather fingers grasped the back of her neck as he pulled her in, his lips meeting hers eagerly, ravenously. She was surprised by how needily he kissed her, and her heart fluttered as his other arm came round the small of her back, tipping her off balance. She clung to him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Easy baby,” she murmured. She could feel his heart racing, practically beating out of his chest. “You’re so worked up already,” she said as she brushed hair out of his eye, her nails following his brow. She murmured soothing words as she tried to guide him to rest his head beneath her chin. But he suddenly pulled away, giving her a suffering look. She could tell he was about to launch another miserable tangent, one that they would both undoubtedly  regret. 

“Don’t speak,” she said as she reached up to cup his face. Her long nails rested on his cheekbones, just below his eyes. “I didn’t give you permission.”

She pulled him close again, herding him back against the wall as she kissed him. Her kisses were slower, less about hunger and more about savoring him. She lifted her leg and hooked it over his hip, making him groan and press closer against her.

“Oh, hello,” she purred as something firm pressed against her thigh. His breath audibly hitched as one of her hands started to trail down his chest. “Oh, if we had the time, the things I would do,” Julian said after he broke his lips from hers. “Who says we don’t?” She asked as she traced his jaw. “And, I dunnae remember giving you permission to speak yet, did I?” 

“Oh, uh, no…” He sighed happily as she kissed him again. She tangled her fingers in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. 

‘What are the chances we could be caught right now?’ She wondered. ‘Even hidden in the stacks…if we were both arrested…’ But her worries were quickly chased off as Julian leaned back against the desk, pulling her onto him. “Don’t mind those,” he said, nodding at the books that fell unceremoniously onto the floor. “Hadn’t even noticed,” she grinned as she tilted his head back and exposed his neck. He moaned low in his throat and arched as she pressed teasing, open  mouthed kisses against his throat. Just before she could sink her teeth into him, a noise from beyond the library doors startled them. 

“Ah! Milady! Finished up so soon?!” Portia’s voice came from the other side of the door, the cheerfulness in her voice barely masking a worried tone. “That’s a surprise!” Nadia’s words were indecipherable from beyond the door, but just the faint sound of her voice was enough to make Rosie’s blood run cold. 

“That’s our cue,” Julian whispered. He patted her hip as he ushered her out of his lap and into the shadows. 

#portia #portia devorak #julian #julian devorak #nadia #nadita satrinava #rosie #rosie springwald #mine #kismet #the library is a place for LEARNING!!! Not [REDACTED]!!!

[drustvar]

The Lion’s Path: 4.3 An Olive Branch

A retelling of the Arcana Prologue featuring Rosie Springwald, a vindictive hedgewitch searching for herself. Thank you as always to @honeyfixations​ for beta reading! Nadia time.

WC: 1492

Chapter 3 of Book 4. An uncomfortable formal dinner opens the door to timid trust.

The Palace loomed like a white monolith against the twinkling night sky. Portia stood waiting for Rosie at the gates. She was solemn as she helped her out of the carriage, not at all her normal, cheerful self.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

They were both silent as they made their way inside the Palace. The grand doors swung open as they arrived, revealing an extravagant feast spread out on the long table. Everything was richly seasoned with rare spices, still hot and steaming.

‘Saffron...cumin...ones I can’t even begin to identify…’ Rosie thought, as her stomach growled. “You’re right on time, Rosie.” The Countess smiled warmly at her from her seat at the head of the table. “I hope your day was fruitful.”

 A servant seated her, and filled her glass with a pale, rose colored beverage. It’s delicate aroma was similar to the Countess’ perfume. “But first, let us attend to some small matters. My courtiers are most eager to meet you.”

‘Oh no, not more nobles!’ Rosie thought, grateful that her chalice was able to hide the way her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I shall introduce them to you tomorrow afternoon. They will want to know everything about you...but choose wisely what you wish to tell.” Rosie shivered at her warning. ‘Just how many snakes lurk in the court’s grass?’ “I will be informing them of the Masquerade as well. I imagine they will be ecstatic.” Rosie said nothing, just stared down at the table as she chewed. 

“And tomorrow at noon, Portia will lead a retinue into the town square to announce the Masquerade.”

“Can I go with her?”

“If you wish. Once the townspeople hear, word will spread on its own. And then it shall be out of our hands. I imagine the crowds will be eager to see Count Lucio’s murderer hang.”

Rosie flinched, her nails digging into the delicate tablecloth. ‘Julian…’ She thought of him, bathed in the warm light of the tavern; swinging dead from the gallows. ‘No. I can’t let that happen.’

“But these are tomorrow’s matters. Tonight Rosie-”

“May I be excused?” Rosie said as she abruptly got to her feet, startling the Countess.

“Pardon?”

“May I be excused, ma’am? The magic I used in my snoop-er, my investigating was powerful, an’ it’s left me tired.” She said as she faked a yawn.

“Of course, Rosie.” The Countess smiled at her sympathetically. “But, before you retire to your quarters, would you mind answering a few questions?”

“...Ask away.” Rosie murmured, as she sank back into her seat, taking a swig from her glass.

“I wish to become familiar with you.” Rosie choked on her drink.

“I’m sorry?”

“Let us be strangers no longer. May tonight be the beginning of a valuable friendship.”

‘Friends?’

Yet, slowly, Rosie’s icy shell softened as the Countess asked her about herself. What her daily life was like. How she enjoyed the town….

“What are your favorite foods?”

“Stuffed mushrooms. Well, anythin’ with mushrooms, really.”  The Countess smile was warm

“I shall make note of that for our future meals together.”

“And yours, ma’am?” 

“Ah...Spiced Swordfish. In Prakra, spiced swordfish is a summer dish. I would hardly suffer a warm night without it.”

Prakra, a vast land to the North. Rumors had said it was the Countess’ homeland.

“The kitchen does try to humor my requests, but alas, they can never seem to spice it quite right.”

“Do you miss Prakra? I’ve...never been outside of Vesuvia.”

The Countess looked  thoughtfully into her glass. “Perhaps. I don’t think I would ever return to Prakra...but there are things I miss about my home. Often, when I was feeling morose, I would take a walk down to the white beaches of my homeland. Observing the opalescent waves crash over the sands would soothe my worried soul.” 

Rosie tilted her head thoughtfully. The bittersweet expression on the Countess’ face made her look years younger. As she sipped from her glass she noticed that all the servants were attentively listening, watching her and the Countess with wondering eyes. 

“Well, if we are to reminisce, perhaps we should do so somewhere more private. Would you care to join me on the veranda for a nightcap?” The Countess asked, a soft smile on her lips. “Just the two of us.” She held a hand out expectantly. 

Rosie hesitated, her eyes unsure. ‘Perhaps...I can learn something that could be of use. Something that could save Julian…’

“Aye. That’d be fine,” Rosie said, nodding slowly and took the Countess’ hand. The older woman’s grip was warm and firm, a pleased smile on her lips as they headed out onto the veranda. The night outside was cool, and the star-filled sky was bright and vast overhead. Rosie looked back as a curtain fell shut behind them, leaving her and the Countess alone under the stars. 

“Have a seat.” Rosie sunk onto a plush chair, shifting a little to comfort herself. The Countess picked up a crystal decanter filled with a glittering pale liquid and poured them both a glass. 

“Elderflower cordial. One of my favorites.”

“Oh. Thanks.” 

The silence they lapsed into was not quite awkward, but not comfortable. The Countess turned her gaze from the garden to Rosie, giving her a comforting smile. 

“You are. quite different from how I imagined you.” 

‘You told me that when we met.' Rosie thought, shyly averting her eyes to her glass. 

“I will admit, I find your presence quite intriguing.” 

“Oh. Uh. Thanks?” 

‘Talk in the town is you’re a tyrant...as bad as the Count was, but…’ Rosie swallowed, and managed to meet the Countess’ eyes. ‘But this woman has been nothing but kind to me. She seems genuine. And more than that, she seems lonely...’

“Tell me, Rosie. Why did you come to the Palace? Why did you agree to help me?”

“You asked me to.”  ‘I had no choice…’

“Yes, I did. But you could have refused me easily.”

“I could have?!” Rosie blurted. The Countess’ eyebrow raised as she let out a small laugh.

“Of course you could have. I apologize if I gave you the impression otherwise. Perhaps you are right to distrust me, I have done woefully little to prove myself capable to the people of Vesuvia.”

“Oh…” Rosie looked off into the garden, awkwardly fluffing the back of her hair.

“And yet you trusted me enough to answer my summons. And I cannot help but wonder if you are always so obedient,” the Countess asked, leaning closer. A faint air of mischievousness hung in her voice.

“When it suits me.”

The Countess laughed, making her shiver “That is quite fair. But I do wonder what else I could ask of you.”

‘Not much,’ Rosie snorted as The Countess’ gaze seemingly raked over her. 

“Depends.” Rosie’s tone was low and even, almost a growl as she held the Countess’ gaze. Eventually, the Countess smiled again as her fingers brushed lightly over Rosie’s hand. 

“I suppose we shall discover your limits in time.” 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

“Do you have any more questions for me, Rosie? Know that you are free to speak in my presence.”

‘Do you know what a monster the Count was? Did you actually love him? Why is our city still in shambles? When can I go home? ’ Questions churned violently in Rosie’s mind. ‘No. We’d be here all night, but...’

“Why are you doing this?” Rosie finally managed to ask.

“What a vague question. What exactly do you mean?”

“The murder investigation. ‘Counts been dead for years. Why stir it up again now?”

“Ah. You’re quite right to ask, Rosie. Vesuvia is in dire need of help. Order needs to be restored...and I am in the unique position to restore it. However, I intend to lead by example, not by fear. I must show the city I am capable. I have so many plans for Vesuvia. I want to see this city flourish….Perhaps you’ll be able to help me with those plans, Rosie.”

“I dunnae understand what you mean?”

“I simply mean that I could use more competent people on my side.” The Countess’ voice had a noticeable tinge of loneliness. Rosie drank deeply, her eyes drifting away again.

“It seems you have had a long day. I won’t keep you any longer,” The Countess said as she cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming to the Palace. My dreams did not lead me astray.” Rosie nodded, getting to her feet.

“Allow me to ring for Portia-”

“ S'alright, She’s plenty busy without me, I’m sure.” The Countess smiled, her eyes twinkling.

“You are so very thoughtful, Rosie.”

Rosie paused, her hand on the curtain, ready to slip back into the dining room. “Countess?”

“Yes, Rosie?”

“The...The Count wasn’t as loved as you think he was.” Before she could be questioned, Rosie pushed through the curtain and vanished into the hall.

#its nadia time!!! #rosie i am begging you to stop being so hostile to her shes very nice #rosie #rosie springwald #nadia #nadia satrinava #mine #2022 #the arcana #arcana #arcana prologue