ROSEMARY ROUX
The ocelot heard the summons. She followed a group of knights to where the young lynx had called for the announcements in the marketplace. Rosemary hung at the edges of the crowd. She didn’t want to meander through people for a good view. After all, she had been living in the Estate… as a Rosencrantz, if not in name and certainly not in refined noble behavior.
Whatever refined noble behavior meant. Rosemary considered herself lucky to escape the cult of her birth with usable socialization skills.
As Lady Rosencrantz—Yvonne, she realized, though it took quite a while for her to connect the name to the face—spoke the announcements, Rosemary winced in sympathy. Lady Rosencrantz was not a good public speaker. Though she was trying, and, perhaps, she would grow into the role. But the announcements showed a clear head for the Horde’s wellbeing. This was better than the cult she’d grown up in, where the narcissist at the helm was only a master of propaganda.
When her name was called, her ears perked up. Huh. Promoted to Apothecary? She had a sneaking suspicion this was because there was simply nobody better qualified—and less attached to the dead Lord—than herself. Still, this meant Lady Rosencrantz likely didn’t consider her as a suspect in her father’s death.
However, the promotion came with the expectation of talking and interacting with others. A chill ran down her spine. Oh. No.
Jaw clenched, she followed behind Project K. She mirrored his body language. Almost exactly. Calm. Collected. Slight smile. Polite bow of the head. But with a bit of twitchiness in her forked tail.
Standing in front of the crowd caused her thoughts to race. She focused herself by glances at Project K and constant appraisals of her mirroring of his body language. However, she didn’t copy the scowl on his face; her expression remained neutral. As neutral as an ocelot with four eyes could look, anyway.
At the announcement’s closure and the lessened focus of the crowd, Rosemary exhaled. She flicked her tail and felt the tension dissipate out of her body.
However, this was not the end of socializing. She glanced at Project K and, once again, mirrored his body language as she walked to meet with Lady Rosencrantz. It was a lot more difficult to fake calmness and professionalism without someone to mirror.
After Project K spoke, Rosemary tilted her head a tad to the right. Then, she looked at Lady Rosencrantz. “Likewise.” She tilted her head with a glance at Project K, to imply she meant exactly as he’d said.
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?