maskormenacelogs | it's my own desire, it's my own remorse

Rosita isn't happy. This isn't necessary a mind-blowing revelation for anyone, Rosita as a general rule thinks a good number of the world's population (hers or this one) should consider taping their mouths shut. There's so much noise in this world, compared to back home, but even back home there were times when Eugene or Tara could be justifiably strangled. (She loves them, dearly, but sometimes they really need to stop talking.)

Rick being gone has nothing to do with there being too much noise, but it has a lot to do with Rosita being Less Happy than usual, some of the old tensions that were just beginning to ease locking back into her back and her shoulders. And somehow, somehow trying to think of something to do to help Carl turned into discovering a horrifying amount of laundry needing doing - some Rick's and some Carl's, and she just kind of resigns herself to doing it all.

It's a weird time to run into someone, granted. And introductions had never been particularly easy, but at least Daryl had made mention of this woman, what she means to them. Rosita hadn't exactly made an effort to seek her out, if only because she's not sure Andrea would want to be reached to. They all deal with things in different ways.

Thing is, there is someone else walking towards Carl's place, just as Rosita takes a step out of it with an Alarmingly Huge pile of laundry, balancing detergent on there somehow. Her jaw flexes, brow flickers, and she takes a half step back that's more about balancing the basket than any kind of caution or fear.

The pause is almost a tangible thing. "— hi."

Edited 2016-08-08 22:44 (UTC)

Their group here is small, and she's found herself often missing so many of the people she'd once spent so much time with (Glenn, Carol, Michonne), but she's grateful just to have Daryl and Carl here at all. They feel like home, whatever home was. They'd never found a place to stay for long, but they had each other, that was all that mattered in a world where they'd all lost everything.

She knows they have others here; people that Daryl's collected, and someone else from their world. She's been telling herself she needs to meet her, but adjusting to this world has taken some of that focus and time away.

So when she sees someone coming out of Carl's place, she can't help wondering if this is Rosita. "Hey," she gives her a friendly little nod, stepping forward quickly. "Need some help?"

There is, predictably, a pause before Rosita replies. It is currently unknown whether she can actually respond to strangers without making significant pauses, researchers are flummoxed, there are possibly clickbait articles about it.

"Yeah," she finally settles on, and there's a flicker of a smile that accompanies it, which is far more generous than what most people in their group got on meeting her. Granted, Tara and Glenn were being pains in the ass, and she met a bunch of the others while locked in a train car by Cannibal Club. Laundry bearing is a far gentler introduction.

The basket is full, and there's a bag of more laundry on top of it, with the detergent and softener somehow balanced on the top like some kind of ornament, and Rosita just kind of nods to the pile she's balancing without making any specific request. "Last time I volunteer to help someone out with their chores."

Which isn't true because she 1. technically didn't offer to help so much as tell Carl she was coming over to help, 2. will always help Carl, because he's family. "Rosita," she offers, sort of as an afterthought.

Andrea can only imagine that the laundry produced by a teenage boy is endless, and exhausting to contend with. She admires Rosita already for helping, and she's quick to offer her a soft smile in return as she steps forward to ease some of her burden. The bag of additional laundry, along with the detergent and softener, are grabbed swiftly by her.

"Andrea," she offers back. "This definitely wouldn't get done any other way." She knows Carl well enough to know that. Daryl, too. "Boys," she sighs and shrugs with a small smirk. "How long have you known them?"

Behold Rosita Espinosa looking pressed as hell.

"Hey." Her tone is harsh, more bite than bark, and the guy blocking her path smartly moves as she shakes her head. She's holding three elaborate looking ice cream sundaes in giant plastic cups with woefully inadequate plastic spoons sticking out of them. While Ruby looks for a table, Rosita had gone ahead to get the ice cream on the basis that the line was long, and that Caitlin's screwed up armand shoulder sounded painful at best, so expecting her to stand in the sun and get bumped by jackasses seemed nothing short of a dick move.

Her gaze tracks over the crowds, and she reflects that, possibly, they could have figured somewhere a little easier to navigate when they tried to think of a way to catch up that didn't involve alcohol or moving. There are a lot of bodies here, and truth be told it makes her skin prickle for far bigger reasons than the fact that Caitlin probably could have gotten jostled by them pretty easily. When she spots the table Ruby claimed she makes a beeline for it, ready to sit after enduring ten minutes of queueing.

The three sundaes were advertised as classic, and are basically just extremely intense banana splits, that their plastic spoons are horribly under qualified to deal with. Despite this impending problem, she's glad that they seem to have found each other, evidenced by the smile that persists despite her complaining, "Sorry for the wait. People are morons." And, a little nod to Caitlin, "how's the arm?"

Edited 2016-08-14 23:01 (UTC)

Daryl picked Rosita up on his bike after a quick check to make sure the day was a good one for driving. He'd already looked into some properties for sale around the Virginia/North Carolina state line and had actually made a booking with an agent to see three of them. Walk the grounds. But it would be a good two and half hour drive from either De Chima or Nonah. And since Daryl's bike was in De Chima, it was that porter he met Rosita at.

The most he explained about the reason for the new property search was that the other locations he'd already scouted just wouldn't work out. These were still just as expensive, but they were relatively better maintained than the previous ones.

The first was a former plantation, with just the main mansion and extended attached servants quarters left as far as buildings went. Still lived in, but by a family that wanted a much smaller home. A little under 12 acres of land. Not fenced, but that could be done after.

The second was a dilapidated mansion abandoned about a decade prior and in disrepair. The grounds maintained and the house checked maybe once a month. Again, no fencing, and only about 8 acres, but cheaper than the other two.

The last was a waterfront farm with 22 acres, no fencing. but it sat on a small penninsula so only one side of the property would need to be walled off in the (highly likely) case of walkers or other land invaders. Plus, it had eleven bedrooms and only two stories. And an old fashioned carriage house. Most expensive of them, but worth looking at. And they could take a day to do it.

A day spent in the company of just Daryl and Rosita might be more than most people could handle; extended silences and communication via raised eyebrows and huffs of breath were, arguably, not exactly a pleasant atmosphere. Most people hadn't lived through what they had, though. Silence could be agonising, or it could keep you safe and alive. Rosita enjoyed the chatter some people offered her, almost found herself thinking that certain parts of her job weren't so bad (the parts that were talking to people and not actually doing anything to do with the actual job, generally.) As much as she enjoyed it, though, she needed the silence sometimes to recharge, to feel a little steadier. She spent a lot of time in her head, because it was about the only thing left in her life that was exclusively hers. Privacy wasn't really something they could relish when being alone could mean putting yourself in danger.

By the time they roll up to the third property, Rosita is feeling a little more like herself than she has the past few days with all those damn promotions, and she considers the water property from their parked stop with a bit of curiosity.

“Know if the fishing’s decent?” She’s not exactly someone who has ever fished before, but hey. A resource is a resource.

The realtor had to deal with both Daryl and Rosita being a lot more silent about the properties she was showing than she was used to. A lot of grunts and one word answers for the most part. So an actual, fully-formed question from the friendlier looking one got a large smile of relief just for the change of pace.

"The lake is one of the popular fishing spots in the area. It's not really a tourist trap, but it gets decent traffic from the locals." Of which, she was not. She just dealt with the smaller town properties in the county.

Daryl gave yet another grunt of acknowledgement in a very long string of them before looking over at Rosita and lifting a thumb to his mouth. Gave a shrug, "Ain't never had a boat before."

Rosita looks at the realtor, watching her with casual interest, at least while she speaks, giving a little nod and the very barest of smiles that could maybe pass for polite. Maybe.

Daryl's voice tugs her gaze towards him, instead, and she cross her arms as she takes a couple steps so she stands beside him. "More than just a boat," she adds, and it's probably needless. A boat was a back up plan, an escape. A lake was a water source, even if it needed filtering. Fish were fresh food. They were pieces she was more than certain Daryl had in mind when he agreed to see this place.

"Needs fences," she comments. And not just fences, but the kind of security they spoke about might alarm the average realtor.

"All of 'em do," he said in agreement. Though this one needed less fencing than the others in his mind. The water acted as a natural enough barrier that they could put the main fencing up on the land side of things and a couple of watch posts along the water line. "Not a lot of trees. Good sight lines even if we put a small orchard in."

He scratched at his chin, "You think it's too far from the cities?" IT was about the same distance from De Chima as it was Nonah. Two to three hour drive in normal traffic. A bit of a ride, but not terrible. Still more than most of the imPorts dealt with on a daily basis. They just got more for their money going out this far. Same prices as the places he'd looked at early on. Already fixed up and with more land.

"Pain in the ass for work," she says, openly enough. It was a long haul, sure, yet long hauls were hardy something new to them. "But that kinda travel for a place like this'd be worth it." Secure, not cramped up, somewhere with space to breathe. She didn't have a problem with the cities, exactly, it was just that they—

Well. That they kind of made her skin wanna crawl right off, even now. It all felt so risky. "We could carpool. If the others need to work in another city they can porter over. We might just wanna make sure we keep a back up supply of gas that we don't even touch for work. Just for emergencies."

And she looks to Daryl, then, curious. "You got a favourite, yet?"

"Nah." Daryl shook his head and crossed his arms, frowned at the building. it was big. Plenty of rooms. The land wasn't bad. But it just...

"None of 'em feel like home." Home for him was currently Alexandria. Or could be. It was feeling like it could. Here didn't, though. Months he'd been here and nothing really felt like home.

That she can understand, all too well. Her arms cross, and she frowns at the property. Not due to any fault of the property, mind, it's a frown of thoughtfulness.

"None of the places will. Places aren't home. Carl probably won't feel at home anywhere for a while, with Rick gone." It's a stunningly negative seeming start. "It's the people that are home. You and Carl and Enid and Andrea will make whatever place we find home, the same way that back in our world any place we stop on the road is home because I have all of you. Doesn't matter if we're in Georgia or the Carolinas or Virginia, any where we stopped, even in that barn? It was home when I was with family."

She shrugs, turning to look to Daryl. "There's not a wrong choice. We've got the right people. Some of them."

Daryl shook his head, eyes scanning the area. The water would be fine to keep walkers away. But it really wasn't a deterrent to other people.

"Ain't just the people. It's the needs our people got. Gotta keep 'em fed. Safe." A pause and then he amended: "Safe enough. A place where the kids, they can..."

Daryl's voice lowered so the realtor couldn't hear him, "...they can smile again. And not feel like they're watching their backs all the time."

it's my own desire, it's my own remorse

(closed) for andrea.

I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE, I TOTALLY FLAKED ON THIS <3

IT'S ALL GOOD it happens to the best of us :D

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( closed ) Ruby & Caitlin.

End of the month

lmk if this isn't quite what you had in mind and I can edit it up to be Daryl picking her up! :]b

I put a lot in so you could pick what you wanted, so it's all good :)

perfect, ty ty :D

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