Berlin

The Haunting of Crestwood Hollow - A Supernatural Coming of Age Story

Please raise your hand (and PM me) if your character has ever felt personally victimized by Rosalyn Osborne.

The Haunting of Crestwood Hollow - A Supernatural Coming of Age Story

Rosalyn Osborne

R O S A L Y N O S B O R N E

_{"I licked it so it’s mine."}

P L A C E H O L D E R Rosalyn Harper Osborne ______________________________________________________ August 2nd, 2002 | 17 | Caucasian ______________________________________________________ Bisexual | ♀ | Single ______________________________________________________ Junior | Unbonded | Red Fox - Unknown

D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E: Rosalyn’s most distinctive feature would be the strawberry-blonde, teetering on the edge of ginger, locks that spill over her thin shoulders. Her hair’s unique color is the only reason it has remained unaltered, unlike so many of her other features. Why would she stop strangers from swooning over it’s distinctiveness? Not unexpectedly, her eyes are a light wash of green and blue. Alabaster hued skin coincides with Rosalyn’s personality - devoid of any warmth, though she often dyes her skin with expensive cosmetics. Freckles pepper the entirety of her body and are dusted more densely atop her shoulders and the high points of her face. Her petite nose was hand-crafted, though it hardly matters with how often she turns it up to others, and her lips seem to never be bare. Dressing up is not a game, nor is it preserved for special occasions within the realm of Rosalyn, it is her lifestyle. Appearances have always been held highly by the Osborne’s and this comes as no challenge for the young woman. Her nails are neatly filed, stockings are without snags, and she would not be caught dead with a backpack on her shoulders. Her mornings begin earlier than most to maintain her facade. Those her stature itself is fairly dainty, a few inches of leather and glue beneath her heel allow her to stand at average height. M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S: On paper, Mather Memorial’s Rosalyn Osborne is written as the stereotypical high school mean girl. Her unrelenting bitterness and ferocity leave her capable of fulfilling the role quite well. Rosalyn is also the type to indulge herself when she wants. She can be quite selfish with no regards of how her actions may affect others. She is prone to jealousy, even when dealing with platonic relationships, and isn’t someone who’s used to sharing what she deems as hers. She is deeply flawed and may seem to be entirely incapable of serving as a teamplayer, but there is an underlying desperation she has to be seen as necessary and wanted those around her. Crowning herself Queen Bee seemed to be the easiest way to achieve this, but manipulating others to interact with her for the sake of social status has, not surprisingly, failed to fill that void. She is hunting for the chance to prove herself as more than the Osborne name while she is still in Crestwood. Discovering she is a Hexenbrut has the ability to push Rosalyn further into an innate craving for the power that seems to be owed to her blood, or she could utilize this opportunity to better her sour attitude and offer a genuine loyalty to someone other than herself.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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Involved largely in the cleaner side of Crestwood Hallow’s agriculture endeavors, money runs deep and far through the Osborne bloodline, leaving it tainted and greedy.

Primped and prepped for their last name since birth, the two Osborne children were attending galas and banquets as soon as they were old enough not to wrinkle their mother’s dress by being held or soil their own clothing. Rosalyn could tell you what order to use your forks in by age two, but could not recite the alphabet until she was nearing five.

This theme of corrupted values threaded its way through much of Rosalyn’s youth, with appointments being made for the young girl to have a nose job at age fourteen and a journal religiously marked with the calories consumed at each and every meal. She had become a project to her mother and the household left little air for anyone to breathe.

A motor vehicle accident yanked the entire seam of the Osborne family, however. Though not fatal, the accident left Mrs. Osborne with a traumatic brain injury that resulted in her requiring nearly total care. Hiring a home health nurse for the woman was easy, but the moral corruption within the family that came as the years progressed seemed to fall especially heavy on Rosalyn. Her brother disappeared to college, only ever visiting for the most important holidays, and she does her best to ignore the women slipping into her father’s study after his unusually long work days.

Her position of power at Mather Memorial is something she would fight tooth and nail for, because it’s some of the only control she feels she possesses.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Rosalyn is entirely unaware of the supernatural happenings within Crestwood Hollow. She assumes she was selected to participate in the study group based on her impressive academic achievements, though she rarely shares with anyone besides her instructors that she has more than two functioning brain cells.

A fox and a few raccoons hanging around the orchards is certainly not out of the ordinary. And doesn't everyone try and keep their jewelry safe?

The Haunting of Crestwood Hollow - A Supernatural Coming of Age Story

Rosalyn Osborne

R O S A L Y N O S B O R N E

_{"I licked it so it’s mine."}

P L A C E H O L D E R Rosalyn Harper Osborne ______________________________________________________ August 2nd, 2002 | 17 | Caucasian ______________________________________________________ Bisexual | ♀ | Single ______________________________________________________ Junior | Unbonded | Red Fox - Unknown

D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E: Rosalyn’s most distinctive feature would be the strawberry-blonde, teetering on the edge of ginger, locks that spill over her thin shoulders. Her hair’s unique color is the only reason it has remained unaltered, unlike so many of her other features. Why would she stop strangers from swooning over it’s distinctiveness? Not unexpectedly, her eyes are a light wash of green and blue. Alabaster hued skin coincides with Rosalyn’s personality - devoid of any warmth, though she often dyes her skin with expensive cosmetics. Freckles pepper the entirety of her body and are dusted more densely atop her shoulders and the high points of her face. Her petite nose was hand-crafted, though it hardly matters with how often she turns it up to others, and her lips seem to never be bare. Dressing up is not a game, nor is it preserved for special occasions within the realm of Rosalyn, it is her lifestyle. Appearances have always been held highly by the Osborne’s and this comes as no challenge for the young woman. Her nails are neatly filed, stockings are without snags, and she would not be caught dead with a backpack on her shoulders. Her mornings begin earlier than most to maintain her facade. Those her stature itself is fairly dainty, a few inches of leather and glue beneath her heel allow her to stand at average height. M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S: On paper, Mather Memorial’s Rosalyn Osborne is written as the stereotypical high school mean girl. Her unrelenting bitterness and ferocity leave her capable of fulfilling the role quite well. Rosalyn is also the type to indulge herself when she wants. She can be quite selfish with no regards of how her actions may affect others. She is prone to jealousy, even when dealing with platonic relationships, and isn’t someone who’s used to sharing what she deems as hers. She is deeply flawed and may seem to be entirely incapable of serving as a teamplayer, but there is an underlying desperation she has to be seen as necessary and wanted those around her. Crowning herself Queen Bee seemed to be the easiest way to achieve this, but manipulating others to interact with her for the sake of social status has, not surprisingly, failed to fill that void. She is hunting for the chance to prove herself as more than the Osborne name while she is still in Crestwood. Discovering she is a Hexenbrut has the ability to push Rosalyn further into an innate craving for the power that seems to be owed to her blood, or she could utilize this opportunity to better her sour attitude and offer a genuine loyalty to someone other than herself.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

Involved largely in the cleaner side of Crestwood Hallow’s agriculture endeavors, money runs deep and far through the Osborne bloodline, leaving it tainted and greedy.

Primped and prepped for their last name since birth, the two Osborne children were attending galas and banquets as soon as they were old enough not to wrinkle their mother’s dress by being held or soil their own clothing. Rosalyn could tell you what order to use your forks in by age two, but could not recite the alphabet until she was nearing five.

This theme of corrupted values threaded its way through much of Rosalyn’s youth, with appointments being made for the young girl to have a nose job at age fourteen and a journal religiously marked with the calories consumed at each and every meal. She had become a project to her mother and the household left little air for anyone to breathe.

A motor vehicle accident yanked the entire seam of the Osborne family, however. Though not fatal, the accident left Mrs. Osborne with a traumatic brain injury that resulted in her requiring nearly total care. Hiring a home health nurse for the woman was easy, but the moral corruption within the family that came as the years progressed seemed to fall especially heavy on Rosalyn. Her brother disappeared to college, only ever visiting for the most important holidays, and she does her best to ignore the women slipping into her father’s study after his unusually long work days.

Her position of power at Mather Memorial is something she would fight tooth and nail for, because it’s some of the only control she feels she possesses.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Rosalyn is entirely unaware of the supernatural happenings within Crestwood Hollow. She assumes she was selected to participate in the study group based on her impressive academic achievements, though she rarely shares with anyone besides her instructors that she has more than two functioning brain cells.

A fox and a few raccoons hanging around the orchards is certainly not out of the ordinary. And doesn't everyone try and keep their jewelry safe?

Welcome to Camp Sunshine (2 Spots left!)

@Jasper19Edited. Sorry, friend.

Welcome to Camp Sunshine (2 Spots left!)

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The little space between bodies within the bus was occupied by the dense humidity, leaving little air for the lungs to steal for themselves. Rivulets of sweat went unmanaged and soaked through the occupants clothing, attaching the fabric to their frames. The undeniable scent of body odor had begun as a faint undertone, but was steadily growing to a more offensive level with each raise of an arm or shift in a seat. The seemingly permanent curl of Bonnie Carter’s upper lip was enough to show her strong discontent with the situation.

The heat and humidity? She could handle that without issue. Louisiana would laugh at this heat index and her hair was a mess with or without it. The cramped seats? She had lived in a van with her family that a sardine would feel cramped in. But this smell. Her eyes flickered occasionally to the men surrounding her, as if accusing them, before landing again on the rust spot near where her right shoulder was pressed against the wall. She had been picking meticulously at the area for a majority of the ride, her vividly red fingernail lifting the textured edges of the corrosion until it became flush with the unaffected metal. She had curled her legs beneath her small frame and had forced her small pack deep into the space below between the seats. The bag was light enough, as its contents were only those that had been deemed absolutely essential to a through-hiker, but even its minor presence on the young woman’s lap had grown to be a discomfort. She had attempted to position her head comfortably in every imaginable way, but the neverending jolting and jostling of the vehicle made rest impossible. Not to mention the guy two seats ahead that had made it his mission to share his life story with the entire lot of them.

Bonnie was one of the last to step down from the bus and therefore found herself lifting up onto the tips of her toes in an effort to peer above the mess of people that had already congregated in front of her. Clean shaven heads, trimmed edges, gelled side parts. She spotted them all, but no hair styles that were definitely or stereotypically feminine. It had been ingrained in since she was a child that should she be in need of help, she should find a woman. Should she be lost or uncomfortable, she should find a woman. A drunk night at a bar in San Marcos and a woman bought her a cab home. A woman paid for her groceries when that month’s paycheck fell short. Perhaps it was wrong, perhaps it was falling in line with a corrupt societal expectation, but still Bonnie searched for a ponytail or bun in that moment.

Joe’s voice was clear even from the back of the crowd and his direct instructions were appreciated. His subtle reassurance that he would offer a level of protection to the campers also provided Bonnie with something of a comfort. Bonnie filed slowly forward as others cleared, not understanding the rush that surged forward as the counselor stepped aside. She took that free moment of waiting to scan what she could see of the area, deciding quickly that the environment they were in was entirely foreign to her. The density of the surrounding forests left Washington state cowering.

Bonnie smacked at her neck and raked her nails across what she knew to be a new mosquito bite. “Do we get to leave if we contract Malaria?" She muttered just below her breath as she scanned the bulletin board for her tent assignment.

Welcome to Camp Sunshine (2 Spots left!)

Bethany “Bonnie” Carter

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Name:
Bethany Eloise Carter | Bonnie

Age:
Twenty-four

Gender:
Female

Nationality:
American

Reason for joining:
She was looking for a purpose that was more impactful than she had been able to find on her own.

Speciality:

Bonnie is a Survical, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE) specialist and educator. Her primary focuses are on wilderness survival, isolation coping, and enemy evasion tactics. Though sufficient in both hand-to-hand combat as well as the use of weaponry, she would much prefer to avoid an altercation entirely.

Appearance:

Bonnie’s unmanageable, curly mane and small stature has unintentionally left her desperate for an identity outside of a teen member of the 90’s youth rebellion or a worshipper of Mariah Carey. Messy bangs hang limply down her forehead and brush just above a set of pale eyes. Standing at 5’2, she regularly finds herself battling to prove both her age, though her knack for inappropriate humor certainly doesn't help.

Personality:

Bonnie is never afraid to argue, but rarely takes minor altercations personally. This is driven by a deeply rooted stubbornness that has been developing since birth and often a need to have things her way. She had daily practice on this with her siblings and has honed in her debate skills. Disputes come as easy as a conversation about the weather to her and truthfully, are much preferred to small talk. As soon as they are over and she feels that she has successfully gotten her point across, she will be back to inappropriate jokes about her unlucky victim’s mother.

Much of her communication with her co-campers comes in the form of quick wit and cheap laughs, a coping mechanism of sorts. Coming from the lifestyle that she does, Bonnie is rarely knocked off kilter and is very quick to recover when this does occur. Her aptness to act on instinct may even warrant her being called impulsive. It doesn't help that Bonnie desperately strives for constant movement and action, typically initiating it should there be none readily available.

However, there is an underlying warmth to the young woman that quickly rises to the surface upon the establishment of trust and connection, no matter how minute. Those close to her would advocate for the motherly nature and need to protect that she holds. Bonnie seems almost desperate to please those in her life, whether this be by physically caring for them or by simply offering an ear to listen. She will consistently be one of the first to donate time and resources to whatever cause she feels passionate about, though this often leaves her stretched thin and even cynical.

Bonnie finds that she sticks to her traditions and routines almost religiously, as this offers her a sense of comfort and reassurance that she and the others will continue to stay out of trouble. Due to her hypervigilance, she is extremely perceptive about people is often on the offense in her interactions with others. She always tries to stay two steps ahead and her plans nearly always include an alternative, never relenting in her efforts to prove she is not one to be underestimated.

Bonnie lives by a certain code and expects others to naturally fall in line with her morals and ideals. Loyalty and trustworthiness are two virtues that Bonnie will never compromise on. One step out of line pertaining to either and she will make it a mission of hers to ostracize and humiliate the offender so thoroughly they would never think of acting in that manner again. Once permitted into her inner circle, however, you will be rewarded with the friendship of someone who would do everything in her power to pluck the stars from the sky should you request one.

History:

Born to a family of self-proclaimed free spirits in the southern half of the United States, Bonnie was never able to call a particular place home. Her and her two siblings lived nomadically out of the family’s camper and all were educated by their own mother while their father picked up small jobs to cover the living expenses they did collect.

The lifestyle was a dream to most. Never knowing exactly where they would sleep at night or where they would be when they woke in the morning. However, this constant movement and changing left the eldest child, Bonnie, desperate for an achievable goal. Her future was blurry and this left her unsettled.

At the age of sixteen, Bonnie earned her GED and settled into a permanent home at the southern California border. She mixed herself in with a crowd her mother would have scowled at in an effort to make her ends meet, only staying for as long as was necessary. Years of working service and she eventually found herself in a comfortable nine to five, though she still struggled deeply with finding her identity.

A few seasons of packed lunches passed before Bonnie set off on a soul-searching journey of her own. The young woman had solo hiked nearly the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail before finding her next adventure at a hostel in Washington. The men told of a camp built for those like her, a place in which successes and discipline were readily available. Venezuela was all they really had to say before she was ready to sign the dotted line. The reality of Camp Sunshine and the truths she strives to discover about the workings of the place have left her longing to have her desk chair back, however.

---

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Welcome to Camp Sunshine (2 Spots left!)

Bethany “Bonnie” Carter

---

---

---

Name:
Bethany Eloise Carter | Bonnie

Age:
Twenty-four

Gender:
Female

Nationality:
American

Reason for joining:
She was looking for a purpose that was more impactful than she had been able to find on her own.

Speciality:

Bonnie is a Survical, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE) specialist and educator. Her primary focuses are on wilderness survival, isolation coping, and enemy evasion tactics. Though sufficient in both hand-to-hand combat as well as the use of weaponry, she would much prefer to avoid an altercation entirely.

Appearance:

Bonnie’s unmanageable, curly mane and small stature has unintentionally left her desperate for an identity outside of a teen member of the 90’s youth rebellion or a worshipper of Mariah Carey. Messy bangs hang limply down her forehead and brush just above a set of pale eyes. Standing at 5’2, she regularly finds herself battling to prove both her age, though her knack for inappropriate humor certainly doesn't help.

Personality:

Bonnie is never afraid to argue, but rarely takes minor altercations personally. This is driven by a deeply rooted stubbornness that has been developing since birth and often a need to have things her way. She had daily practice on this with her siblings and has honed in her debate skills. Disputes come as easy as a conversation about the weather to her and truthfully, are much preferred to small talk. As soon as they are over and she feels that she has successfully gotten her point across, she will be back to inappropriate jokes about her unlucky victim’s mother.

Much of her communication with her co-campers comes in the form of quick wit and cheap laughs, a coping mechanism of sorts. Coming from the lifestyle that she does, Bonnie is rarely knocked off kilter and is very quick to recover when this does occur. Her aptness to act on instinct may even warrant her being called impulsive. It doesn't help that Bonnie desperately strives for constant movement and action, typically initiating it should there be none readily available.

However, there is an underlying warmth to the young woman that quickly rises to the surface upon the establishment of trust and connection, no matter how minute. Those close to her would advocate for the motherly nature and need to protect that she holds. Bonnie seems almost desperate to please those in her life, whether this be by physically caring for them or by simply offering an ear to listen. She will consistently be one of the first to donate time and resources to whatever cause she feels passionate about, though this often leaves her stretched thin and even cynical.

Bonnie finds that she sticks to her traditions and routines almost religiously, as this offers her a sense of comfort and reassurance that she and the others will continue to stay out of trouble. Due to her hypervigilance, she is extremely perceptive about people is often on the offense in her interactions with others. She always tries to stay two steps ahead and her plans nearly always include an alternative, never relenting in her efforts to prove she is not one to be underestimated.

Bonnie lives by a certain code and expects others to naturally fall in line with her morals and ideals. Loyalty and trustworthiness are two virtues that Bonnie will never compromise on. One step out of line pertaining to either and she will make it a mission of hers to ostracize and humiliate the offender so thoroughly they would never think of acting in that manner again. Once permitted into her inner circle, however, you will be rewarded with the friendship of someone who would do everything in her power to pluck the stars from the sky should you request one.

History:

Born to a family of self-proclaimed free spirits in the southern half of the United States, Bonnie was never able to call a particular place home. Her and her two siblings lived nomadically out of the family’s camper and all were educated by their own mother while their father picked up small jobs to cover the living expenses they did collect.

The lifestyle was a dream to most. Never knowing exactly where they would sleep at night or where they would be when they woke in the morning. However, this constant movement and changing left the eldest child, Bonnie, desperate for an achievable goal. Her future was blurry and this left her unsettled.

At the age of sixteen, Bonnie earned her GED and settled into a permanent home at the southern California border. She mixed herself in with a crowd her mother would have scowled at in an effort to make her ends meet, only staying for as long as was necessary. Years of working service and she eventually found herself in a comfortable nine to five, though she still struggled deeply with finding her identity.

A few seasons of packed lunches passed before Bonnie set off on a soul-searching journey of her own. The young woman had solo hiked nearly the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail before finding her next adventure at a hostel in Washington. The men told of a camp built for those like her, a place in which successes and discipline were readily available. Venezuela was all they really had to say before she was ready to sign the dotted line. The reality of Camp Sunshine and the truths she strives to discover about the workings of the place have left her longing to have her desk chair back, however.

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Red Dead Reckoning

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@c3p-0h@ONL@NorthernKraken

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“Someone claim her and get her home or I’m gonna keep her!”

Roz had stationed herself behind the bar and was lifting herself up onto her toes in an attempt to shout across the crowd that only seemed to be growing thicker. She had originally returned behind the bar in a frenzied chase after Temp to inquire about her tardiness, her impeccable entrance only drawing the attention of anyone with ears, but the child resting on a stool in front of her had demanded a far higher level of regard.

Rosalyn was able to catch most of Temp’s interaction with the two guests and she could hardly fault her employee’s bitter tone as he further demanded a nonalcoholic lemonade from the bartender.

“You her Pop?” Roz had inquired of the man, but her natural softspokeness never lent itself well to the constant buzz of conversation within the bar. Her words seemed to be unable to compete and fell flat.

“I like to think that we’re not all terribly pinheaded here,” Roz protested a bit louder as she looked down her nose at the man, though she shot a reaffirming wink in the direction of Temp. She offered her best customer service smile, but the acidity laced within the turn of her lips negated anything positive within the action. The discourse that had already occurred had put the woman on edge, but the man’s audacity to indirectly accuse them of serving the girl was enough to sour her attitude. She knew these feelings would be mutual.

“We’re not in the business of boozing up children. A little risky I’d say if I’d like to keep the deed in my name.” Rosalyn was shamelessly flaunting her ownership of the establishment and she found her upper lip curling subconsciously in annoyance as he offered the girl a view of a wanted poster, telling of some group of dangerous people as if recounting a ghost story. She found a level of humor in the idea of that describing half of the company situated in the saloon at that exact moment. She used this as an opportunity to try and verbally ruffle the man’s feathers in retaliation once more.“You’re gonna give the kid a nightmare, Pal. Leave her be or help me find her folks if-”

The rapid and undeniable sound of gunshots invaded the woman’s original thought and she found herself desperately turning to Temp for an action plan. Rosalyn’s instincts in the face of immediate danger were parallel to that of a trapped rabbit. She was capable of action only after formulating a plan and outline, but when things went to shit in a hurry, she found her logical thinking had a tendency to screech to a dead halt. Temp had proven to have a reaction time nearly as quick as her wit and was invaluable in situations such as the current.

Blood rose up into and warmed Rosalyn’s cheeks as she peered outward from behind the slated Saloon doors. Her throat constricted within itself, though she was grateful that perhaps it would block bile from rising into her mouth.

Dead bodies were strange.

Suddenly, vessels of life turned into empty containers. Glass bottles drained and discarded. Their skin instantly paled as the vascular system ceased its work and blood began following the rules of gravity. Her interaction with Leo had been brief at best, but she knew enough about the man to find herself reflecting on the impact of his sudden death. His errands would go uncompleted. He would never visit the general store. She wondered if his five dollar winnings were still tucked in his pocket. Someone would make it their own reward.

Roz hurried back to the bar at the first signs the crowd would be trickling back inside, but not before noting how quickly Temp’s legs were moving beneath her. She watched silently at the woman returned instantly to her work without a comment. Never had lemonade been poured with such ferocity, however.

Roz had begun scene control as soon as the man from earlier pushed through the door. She positioned herself between the two offending parties, one of them blatantly unaware of the tensions brewing as he called out yet another command. Perhaps he was wrong to have done what he did and perhaps not, but his type was all too familiar to Armadillo. A law enforcer, truly a general enforcer, of his own volition.

“The town is small enough. Perhaps you can go to the law yourself? Explain what happened and how you… stepped in.” Roz selected her words with attentiveness, careful to not place herself on a specific side of the line as she addressed the man.

"What?"

Rosalyn’s eyes widened as Temp nearly spat at the new customer and she instantly hooked her arm around the bartender. “I am so terribly sorry. I will be right back to help you, Ma’am,” she reassured the guest as she practically towed Temp along with her back into the kitchen.

“What in God’s name, Temp?!” Roz started in, “That girl out there looks like you might blow her out of her chair hollering at her like that! And look, I get it, the fella is a royal piece of work. A royal piece of it, okay? And you just saw something horrific. That was absolutely terrible, I know. I hope that the Sheriff handles it all appropriately. But you-”

Rosalyn’s brow furrowed as something stole her attention and she tentatively placed her finger to the cut above Temp’s brow. Her voice noticeably dropped a few octaves and softened significantly, “Who did that? Are you okay? That’s not new. When did that happen? Was that here? In town? Let me get you some ice. You should take a break. Get something to drink and relax for a bit.”

Rosalyn moved to gather a towel and ice, though her tone returned unphased to continue reprimanding, “-but you cannot be tossing yourself around out there in a fit like that! You’re gonna cost us customers and therefore money! Money that goes into everyone’s wages! That keeps the place as a whole up and running!”

Red Dead Reckoning

@Sad Ogo and I are talking about what to do here. We could do a collaborative with the three characters or do individual responses in the IC thread that might turn R rated. You want to join us?

@Gunther

Of course! I'm up for whatever you guys decide on. Just let me know!

Red Dead Reckoning

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The day was falling swiftly, pulling the sun across the sky and towards the horizon with what seemed to be little difficulty. Roz sat atop the ledge of her open bedroom window, feet tucked beneath her body and glass of amber liquid held loosely between her slender fingers. The falling light draped a golden hue across the woman’s cheeks and reflected sharply against the lighter accents deep within the irises of her eyes. They were fixed outward and only flickered as the woman was yanked from her own thoughts.

“Miss Roz?” The sudden break of silence was hardly startling, as the voice transgressing was faint and airy. Rosalyn knew the source before her gaze shifted to it - a petite young woman in the doorway with her hands clasped together at her waist. “It’s just that you wanted me to warn you when things picked up downstairs,” she continued, quickly working to justify interrupting what she already knew to be a moment Roz held sacred. The woman was new to both Armadillo and the business, having only arrived days ago in a fit of desperation to escape a home life she would speak very little of. This was the narrative for nearly all of the girls who walked through the door, most with their chins tucked to their chests.“That’s alright, Love. I appreciate it. You managed to eat, yes?” Rosalyn had emptied her glass and unfurled her bare feet out from beneath her at the explanation, tugging on a pair of boots that brushed just above her ankles.

“Oh, I- well, no, I don’t suppose I have.”

Rosalyn started towards the younger woman, promptly rested her hands upon the woman's hips as she spoke, “There’s plenty downstairs. Some of the girls and I made a stew you’re welcome to. I’ll have you run to the general tomorrow to gather a few of your favorites. And loosen this-” Roz had wrapped her arms around the girl, suddenly yanking the knot of her corset free. “You’ve hardly left enough room for air, let alone a meal.”

Rosalyn stood at the landing overlooking the bar, her arms folded and resting on the banister. The unusual fullness of the bar space left a feeling of unease coiled around her stomach, tightening each time one of her girls approached a client or someone’s hand moved near their waistline. From her vantage point, she could make out a few of the cards grasped by the men settled around a table. Despite never having considered gambling to be a trade she would involve herself in, she made a mental note of this.

The flash of a weapon sent instinct into action at nearly the same pace as Rosalyn’s ability to process the scene, shamelessly hoisting her skirt to retrieve her own weapon from her thigh. The absolute ignorance of her actions was apparent before she could even remove the gun from its holster, however. She would undoubtedly have injured someone unintentionally, if not herself. She hastily flattened her skirt with a silent prayer of thanks that there had been a much larger distraction below before rushing down the stairs.

It became clear that she had missed much of the action when she finally pushed through the crowd, with the assistance of a few fierce words, just in time to see the bloodied man scramble out of the front door. Her attention was pulled next to the girls who had collected themselves behind the bar counter, just as instructed to do during situations such as this. Rosalyn spend a moment with each, ensuring they were okay to continue for the night. Most moved back out to the floor to resume the conversations that had been interrupted, while others silently escaped back upstairs to their rooms.

Roz shot a scowl to the bartender that had taken the payment from the gentlemen she had quickly learned were both at the source and the solution to the prior disturbance. She wrangled the key that hung from her neck out of her shirt and retrieved the money that had just been placed within the register before snagging a bottle of the bar’s moonshine from a lower shelf. She strode confidently towards the table that the two had settled at, slapping the change down hard on the surface between them. “Your kinda money is no good here,” Roz’s words were sharp and her expression was equally as aggressive as she glared down at the two of them.

Rosalyn couldn't even maintain her facade long enough to gather a reply from the men, her lips lifting into a wide smile. “I apologize, Fellas, sometimes I think I’m more amusing than I really am. Whiskey seems to be your choice, but I figured we could thank you both with a bottle of our own shine.” The bottle was placed beside the money and a gentle hand was rested on each of their shoulders. “A few of the girls would be happy to offer you company this evening as their own way of showing their appreciation as well, should ya have an interest.”