forthsofar: (54)
Rosie Wilson ([personal profile] forthsofar) wrote in [personal profile] lost_boy 2019-11-13 10:34 pm (UTC)

Since their hurried departure from Peter's tree and subsequent reunion with the others from the pirate ship, Rosie's been doing what she can to help wherever she's able--tending the fire, chopping vegetables in the ship's galley, keeping a careful eye out for any of Peter's other creatures that might mean them harm. Most nights, she falls asleep exhausted and sunburnt, her hair a tangle from the salt air, hoping that when she wakes it'll be in her own bed once more.

When every morning there's the sound of waves and gulls rather than the hum of traffic, it gets a little harder to believe she ever will.

She's on her way back to the camp, some kindling carefully bundled in a strip of old sailcloth, when she hears the sound of shouting up ahead. Though she doesn't fight--wouldn't know how, always preferring to make up in shouting what she lacks in physical presence--she still picks up her pace, hurrying down the trail towards the clearing. When she's close enough to hear the clang of metal on metal, she even starts to run.

That added speed gets her close enough to see when it happens. When that idiot steps in Jamie's way, when Peter takes the opening it provides him, when his sword flashes out, sweeping in a horrible downward arc until--

Rosie doesn't even know she's screaming until the sound's already left her mouth. If Peter hears it, he pays it no mind, flying off with another cold and tinkling laugh as Jamie drops to his knees. Her vision swims, her head reels, but Rosie makes herself keep moving, running towards him rather than away.

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