open post for pic prompts, starters, and texts. f/m or f/f for shipping. see here for more permissions. please link nsfw images. compatible with all seasons of wynonna earp.
Don't see any reason to stray from that plan, either.
[ And maybe she'd meant part of it to sound as cruel as she'd intended it, but there's another part of her — much, much deeper down — that wants to stay her own hand because of what she knows will be in store for Rosita once she pulls that trigger, another lifetime in hell before the next heir comes along.
And, in spite of everything, she's gonna stop just shy of sealing that fate for her.
She chuckles, but the sound is a little empty, a little hollow, and she plucks the glass between her fingers and tilts it slightly until the dark liquid within catches the light. ]
Still asking myself that question, honestly. [ How many times had she thought about what she'd say if their paths ever crossed again? But all those appropriately badass and vaguely threatening lines fly out of her head when she's confronted with the reality of it now, and instead, she moves to take a sizable swig of her drink, setting the glass down on the bartop with a solid thunk. ]
Working on a methadone adaptation. Trying to make it so it has a more stabilising long-term effect. The regular stuff doesn't always work so well with non-human physiology, so.
( She shrugs. Wynonna probably won't believe her, and if she does, why would she care? Rosita shakes her head, and has a sip of the bourbon. Shit, if there's every chance she could die tonight, may as well enjoy the good stuff?
Looking to Wynonna, it's almost a dare. Daring her to question her, to impose whatever assumption Wynonna has about all of them who aren't human or who are unlucky enough to be linked to the curse. Or maybe she isn't daring her, so much as desperately hoping that she'll be a dick so Rosita can gladly embrace reminder for why she's had to go off alone. )
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[ And maybe she'd meant part of it to sound as cruel as she'd intended it, but there's another part of her — much, much deeper down — that wants to stay her own hand because of what she knows will be in store for Rosita once she pulls that trigger, another lifetime in hell before the next heir comes along.
And, in spite of everything, she's gonna stop just shy of sealing that fate for her.
She chuckles, but the sound is a little empty, a little hollow, and she plucks the glass between her fingers and tilts it slightly until the dark liquid within catches the light. ]
Still asking myself that question, honestly. [ How many times had she thought about what she'd say if their paths ever crossed again? But all those appropriately badass and vaguely threatening lines fly out of her head when she's confronted with the reality of it now, and instead, she moves to take a sizable swig of her drink, setting the glass down on the bartop with a solid thunk. ]
You cooking up shit for anyone else these days?
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( She shrugs. Wynonna probably won't believe her, and if she does, why would she care?
Rosita shakes her head, and has a sip of the bourbon. Shit, if there's every chance she could die tonight, may as well enjoy the good stuff?
Looking to Wynonna, it's almost a dare. Daring her to question her, to impose whatever assumption Wynonna has about all of them who aren't human or who are unlucky enough to be linked to the curse. Or maybe she isn't daring her, so much as desperately hoping that she'll be a dick so Rosita can gladly embrace reminder for why she's had to go off alone. )