Rosebay likes the forest.
She likes the way that it is both silent and loud at the same time—the sound of others muffled as she walks deeper and deeper into the trees but the sound of wind and leaves and animals amplified against the backdrop of quiet. She likes the promise that lives within the hushed atmosphere.
If she stumbles a little today, weakened by the continual doses of poison she gives herself, she does her best to not show it. Even here amongst the solitude of the forest, surrounded by the nothing around her, she does not feel comfortable letting such vulnerability show. She has no desire for anyone to pass her by and see the way that she trembles, the way her pupils are just a little too diluted, the dried blood at the corner of her lovely mouth. So she does the only thing that makes sense: she goes further in still.
When the trees have grown so thick that the little light remaining in the day becomes blotted out, she takes a staggered breath, shuddering as she comes to rest against a large tree.
She feels the sharp edge of ivory pressing into her side and she winces, just slightly.
Exhaustion claws at the back of her eyelids as they close and were anyone to see her, she would look like a subdued young girl. They would not see the cruelty and sharp, manipulative mind. They would not see the calculations that she is constantly running or the ideas that simmer constantly.
They would see her as she could possibly be.
How she would never be.
Not truly.
but in all chaos, there is calculation
@[Skandar]