Donquixote Rosinante (
silent_king) wrote in
new_world_dr2019-02-16 09:00 pm
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In times of darkness and chaos, Dressrosa's doors open for all of the lost and weary. If you are in need of medical care, food, protection or rescue, you need just ask. And one of our airships will come for you.
All are welcome. All are valuable.
All are welcome. All are valuable.
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"He's disgusted with me. I don't blame him. I abandoned my mission, left the Marines, and our last real conversation was cruel on both sides. I accused him of atrocities, he called me out on my sins. And when he came to my wedding? We spoke once, and we were still angry at each other. And that was the last time I saw him in person. "
He wants to give in, he wants to have Sengoku back in his life. But at this point, he's so messed up, so caught up in his insanity that he knows that at his best Sengoku wouldn't even know him any more. Doflamingo's death was the start of a dangerous spiral, and it's only gotten worse since then.]
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If he calls, he will be hunted. He doesn't expect acceptance, but he wants to talk. He wants to be forgiven, mostly, but he doesn't anticipate that happening when what he did probably set the Marines back deeply and hurt Sengoku personally. And it occurs to him then too that Sengoku may not be mourning at all - he might have done so thirteen years ago, and if he could speak with Law without calling for his arrest, maybe he will at least grant Rosinante the favor of a simple call. In the wake of all that's been happening, it must have occurred to him that he could be out here. Some version of him. It will be a shock but not a complete ridiculous miracle that he's alive and well.]
Part of me is optimistic that in my situation it would go differently. But I guess I don't know for sure. I still think of him as a father. I hope he still considers me his son.
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Sengoku always saw that there was something wrong with Rosinante, that he harbored something inside of himself that was dangerous, but he felt like he could help him. Sengoku worked so hard to make a difference in Rosinante's life. He had such high hopes that the child he cared so much for was capable of rising above his sickness and trauma. And perhaps that mix of pressure and love was what made Rosinante's struggles worse.
He shakes his head, hard, he's not going to get visibly emotional about this. He made his choice, and that's how it is. But maybe this Rosinante, this one who seems right and capable, would have a better chance. Maybe his choice would be seen as honorable, and right. But in the end, the Marines are monsters in his eyes. So he's not sure if Sengoku ever really cared about him at all at this point, or if he was just an investment into taking down some of the worst. So maybe none of them really mattered, and none of them would be safe if they made the call.
Even if it is that way, Rosinante still wishes somewhat that he could make things right between them.
"Well, you didn't denounce the Marines as worse than pirates, claim that the group of criminals you took over had higher morals than anyone he worked with, or have a highly publicized scandal wedding after he demanded you come to your senses. It'll probably go better for you!"
He forces a stupid grin, a face that he hasn't really even tried to have in years. But if he doesn't try for something akin to humor, it's too dismal to handle.]
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While his own grin isn't quite as radiant as the other's, he does offer a smile in return. Yeah, he's had to make awful situations into light ones to get by. Once he told Law one of those white patches looked like a sheep, as if he was watching clouds. What? Have to laugh sometimes, or what good is life at all?]
You've convinced me. I'll have to find someone who knows how to reach him now, which could be hard. I heard he's retired, so the number I have won't work. But I'll figure it out.
[Neat, here's another tangled mass of fishing gear, too. This one has lost the hook, but there's a wooden bobber on it which is a helpful little find.]
Let me know if you see a hook. Or a dark-colored shell.
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"Good luck! If he's retired, that might make it easier anyway."
Any tangles in the gear that can be smoothed out are, and Rosinante starts looking around more in the name of finding a hook. Or a dark colored shell, for what reason he can't even imagine honestly. He can't find either, but a piece of scrap metal is just out of the reach, so he steps over a bit of debris, a large mass of palm roots, and scoops it up with that strange magic once more. This he can work with! He works to form a hook out of it, this takes a little more work since he's actually creating something out of it, even if it's just through shaping. But the results are nice enough, and he turns to show his success to his counterpart.
Unfortunately, he turns too quickly, and trips over a piece of something in the sand, landing face first on the roots he'd avoided so nicely. And this time he really hits hard, blood running from his nose as he sits up. Well. That wasn't what he'd wanted.
He holds up the hook with one hand, and digs through his many pockets for something to hold against his nose with the other.]
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Wow, this is really nice, I didn't think about reshaping metal. Thanks! Tons better than carving one out of shell.
[He knots the hook on the end of one of the neatly-coiled lines, pulling it tight between hand and teeth, then buries the sharp tip in the wood to keep from losing it or causing any injury.
It's a shame he doesn't have a handkerchief or anything, but he waits patiently as he stands.]
Need a hand?
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He sighs, and a note pulls up as he works a very stained handkerchief out of an inner pocket of his coat and presses it under his nostrils. This one gets a lot of use, there's no point in keeping fancy ones on him when he bleeds as much as he does.
"Not my finest moment."
He has a lot of not-finest moments, this isn't a new occurrence for either of them, although this Rosinante's fragility and health issues usually means that when he wipes out hard he doesn't recover quite as easily. It looks like he was right about today including a spectacularly clumsy moment after all. Too bad, he'd rather be wrong about something like that.
"I'm fine." He shakes his head and forces himself into a standing position. ]
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[Further down the coastline, the beach thins and is overtaken by the massive roots that keep the water still and deep at the mouth of a river as it enters the sea. There will be bigger fish there than here in the waves, or so he hopes. If not fish, then crabs. Maybe a snake. Hopefully the other guy can wait just a little longer for food.]
D'you like sushi?
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"I do."
He starts heading that way, very carefully this time, he doesn't want to fall again or catch on something or whatever mishap his unfortunate long limbs might get him into.]
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[He grins, stumbles a few times on his way to the mangroves, but it's nothing he can't recover from. Ah, to be young and incredibly durable.
Once near the edge of the deep green river of trees but still a good few yards away, he taps himself on the chest with a single word of "Calm", then sets the box down without a single rattle of its contents. If there are crabs here, he needs to get them before they bolt; they're so much more timid than fish. They react quickly to shifting light patterns so he's certainly not perfectly stealthy, but the lack of sound helps. Some of the smaller crabs, maroon with bright white claws, skitter away and hide in the roots as he steps forward, but the one he reaches for is higher up and wedged between the trunk and a branch. Before it can launch itself down into the brackish water he grabs it. A palm-sized snack for someone his size, but tasty enough, and after a few minutes back and forth he has three more in the box, all captured without a sound. They grab at each other, ignorant of their approaching demise, and Rosinante grins as he taps himself again to cancel the silence.]
Do you think you can get a fire started? These probably aren't any good raw but we can just grill them.
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He needs to avoid using magic, and if he was in a healthier state of mind he'd insist on just going out and pawning his things already. And he's in a rougher state still after the injury. But all he ends up doing is nodding, and working to gather up a few things to actually keep the fire going once it's been made. Magic fire is easy enough to achieve, easier for a mage in good health, but without food nothing thrives, even fire itself.
He manages to come across the supplies needed pretty quickly, adding paper from his notepad to help it along, and he pulls the magic up once more. This time, focusing it differently. Fire's unique chaos is a harder thing for him to focus on, think Rosinante, think. Think of warmth and good, gentle crackling and winter days tempered by the coziness of a fireplace.
Nothing.
So when that isn't enough to feel it out and shape it, he thinks of pain and burning and blistering loss, of the scent of charred flesh and the way a burning building sounds as it falls. And that causes the end of his magic to trail off into flames, settling neatly onto the mound he's made for it.]
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[Handy, but the guy looks worn out. Maybe it's just the fall, the blood. He's impressed, and sounds it, but slightly concerned as well.
Oh well, food will come soon enough. With that fire going, he pulls out his knife and whittles a nearby mangrove stick into a skewer. Back at his crab collection, he quickly and methodically puts each one out of its misery and guts them, then spears all four onto the stick and lays it across the fire.]
Soon as you can see that meat inside where I took the shells off going from translucent to white, you should just go ahead and eat. Won't take long, they're small. I'll get us something bigger.
[And then it's back off to the mangrove thicket, with crab guts for bait and his hook, line, and bobber. He ties one end of the line to a branch, and lets it sit while he goes off exploring for anything else. A couple crabs and a couple fish still won't be much of a meal for both of them, but it's enough for one and he's eaten recently enough where he'll make sure the other Rosinante is full first.
He'll be back in a few. Hopefully the other guy doesn't somehow burn himself before he returns.]
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He does feel worn out, but at this point he's just going to deal. There's no point in complaining, or fussing. What good could it possibly do? He'll be alright. He doubts he's going to pass out at this rate, as long as he gets a little more food into him, and if he can stay alert he's doing well enough.
But goodness, he stares at those crabs like they're the best food he's ever seen in his life. His stomach makes an entirely loud and unflattering growl, and he looks a little sheepish but just focuses on watching the fire and keeping an eye on the delicious little crabs waiting to be devoured. And he doesn't take his eyes away from the fire until they're ready, absolutely excited for a very simple meal.
To his credit, he manages to avoid setting himself on fire entirely while Rosinante is gone, and keeps his companion's food from burning. He burns his fingers a few times, his lips too but he's fine with that, because his share of the crabs are safely tucked away inside his belly and he's feeling far better already.]
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Something else is attracted to the smell of crab - not what's on his hook but what he left on the bank to use for future catches. He hears the rustle and stays still and quiet, partly obscured by mangrove roots and saplings. Not a snake like he had thought, but a lizard - a huge one, just over half his size. He waits, lets it get invested in eating the pile of bait and lower its guard, then stretches his full length with the spear in hand and pins the thing into the sand before it can escape. Boy does it fight him, though, and he grabs it by the tail right before it can run off, injured but alive.
Incidental catches end up being more profitable than the fishing, given his makeshift gear, but he returns twenty minutes later with two carp on the line, strung by the gills, and the now-cleaned monitor lizard dangling from his other hand. Everything is covered in sand, thanks to an unwelcome face-first collision with the beach on his way back, but he's beaming like a kid who won his first trout derby. Pleased to see, too, that some of the crabs have been devoured.]
Brought you something.
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"I can see that! How did you manage to get so much?"
Okay so there's sand, but that can be cleaned off. He gets up, and stands to get a better look at the absolutely amazing haul that Rosinante returned with. He knows those are fish, that's obvious. A lizard? He can't remember ever eating that. It's so big, surely that will fill them up.
"We'll eat like kings."
There's a pause, and he laughs audibly to some degree. A wheezing barking cough of a sound more than a traditional laugh, but he's so amused and pleased and this is fun. When was the last time he had company for any length of time that wasn't Law, or the family? And certainly never without heavy supervision.
"Kings. Ha."]
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The fish weren't hard, they basically caught themselves. You made a great hook. This guy, though, he thought he'd come steal my bait while I wasn't looking, and I was faster.
[He sets the monitor down beside the fire, then takes the few steps toward the waves to rinse off the fish. When he comes back, he drapes them over the nearest driftwood log, then selects one and sits down, and uses the back of his blade to scrape the scales off.]
How were the crabs?
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Rosinante watches quietly for a moment while he scrapes the scales away. It's such a mundane, soothing motion. And although he knows that he can't do it himself, by rules alone, there's something he finds really pleasant about this whole thing. The sound of the scales being scraped, the smell of the fish and the cooked crabs, the birds calling in the distance.
This place is beautiful. The food is good, he's absolutely thrilled at unseasoned crabs and he's excited to eat fresh caught fish and lizards. This really is a treat. He's glad that he managed to end up on this island today, that he found himself on this beach. He got to meet Rosinante, who is so different and so amazing, he got to try new things, and a part of him feels young and healthy again. Maybe once in a while, the sun and heat are good for a person.
He wants to take Law here.
"Good! I saved some for you, you should enjoy your work too."]
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[In fact, he's not even going to look over at those crabs. Enjoy them, your majesty, he's working on the fish. With one side down to bare skin, he slices neatly along the ribcage in a fillet, still attached along the dorsal side, then slices it into strips, easily detached with a tug. He sets the knife back down on a rock, then holds the half-prepared fish between the two of them and tears off a piece for himself. It's not bad. He's had better, always liked ocean fish more, but it'll do.]
Here, you take that and I'll get this big ugly thing carved up to cook.
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He won't turn down the other crabs at all, he's honestly glad to have them for himself, working through them with as much elegance and dignity as possible considering the situation. They're messy to eat, but they're so good even after sitting for a bit. This is something he wants to do again someday, but maybe with seasoning and wine, and more people.
And just when he thinks things can't get better, there's fish. There's something visceral and surreal about this part to him, it's kind of primal to just tear at raw fish like this. But even that has it's own appeal.
"Have you eaten one of those before?"
On the note, a little lizard draws itself, so it's obvious what he's writing about.]
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[He steals a piece of the fish as he turns to talk, then sets about butchering the monitor. The crab skewer gets reused to collect smaller pieces but much of the rest can go straight on the fire. He's no chef, there's nothing gourmet about the preparation, but it will work to feed them. He spares a minute to get up and grab some large leaves growing in the undergrowth behind them, just to have something to put food on, and picks up another stick to whittle away at while he's at it.]
I know some places they eat these, or crocodiles, or big snakes.
[There, now that he has "plates" he can work on preparing that other fish, too, and with the fistful of edible seaweed he had found earlier they can even have a sort of salad. Not a bad spread.]
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It's good enough information to have, although he's not sure when he'll have to worry about eating lizards again. This hopefully won't be a long term excursion, he has so much to do, so much to achieve. And he wonders about how it would make a person ill for a moment, but he also is more interested in their neat little spread than thinking about lizard flesh induced sickness details.
"My diet at home is pretty simple, now that I think about it. This all sounds exotic to me."
He really wants to try crocodile meat now, snake too. They sound exciting, and he decides that once he finds Law and all is settled he's going to take him on a food tour so that he can share the experience with him. It's just so fun, being outside of armed guard, being away from responsibilities, just for a bit.
"Food tastes better outside."
Or when he's so hungry it aches, that probably works in the meal's favor too.]
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[And given the opportunity to try he'd probably pass it up. Red meat? It's okay, but hand over the coleslaw instead. Or this fish, honestly.
Food does taste better outside though, and he laughs a little at that and nods.]
Satisfying, isn't it? Fresh food on the beach. What do you normally eat at home?
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He pulls at the fish more for another bite. It's really good, but he's starting to think that he might not enjoy it so much if it wasn't part of the whole experience. But that's fine too. He's fine with his enjoyment being situationally shaped.
"I eat a lot of salads, fruit, fish and eggs too. And energy bars and drinks, I don't particularly enjoy them but I eat a lot of them. My magic takes up a lot of energy, so I need more calories than I would otherwise to keep up."]
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[Sort of like what Law had told him about his own ability. That incredible fruit takes so much strength to wield. For magic to be similar, limited by a user's stamina, it's little wonder this double of his is so hungry, since he's been using magic nonstop on top of just needing food anyway.]
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That's not a lie, at all. Rosinante's health is compromised on multiple levels, so he uses magic to compensate for what he can't do otherwise. On top of that, his fruit's gift is something frightening and exhausting, and it makes it even harder to stay healthy.
It's a part of why he's so much thinner, so much more fragile looking than his counterpart. The other part being vanity, shaping his looks to suit a role, but he'd always be fragile looking regardless because of the sheer amount of draining magics he uses.]
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I will never get a chance to use this again I'm not passing up on the opportunity k
you did the right thing lmao
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back at you tbh
sob omg
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1/2
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Oh fuck it's the Law fanclub, party of 2
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Pointless TLDR. sob
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