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Something was wrong.
She didn't know what, but something was wrong.
With Alastor.
And she was worried.
Rosie has stayed home in Cannibal Town to hold down the fort while all her people went to fight alongside Princess Charlie and her ragtag gang of misfits, which included Alastor.
She was worried about Alastor, of course, but the boy could handle himself. He was, arguably, the strongest of all the Overlords, power wise. She trusted him to take care of himself.
But something was wrong.
Just over fifty years ago, Alastor and Rosie had created a blood pact between the two of them, a symbol of their strong friendship. Thanks to being magical beings, this blood pact worked differently with them then it would on living humans.
They could feel each other. Each other's emotions, each other's aura, each other's fear.
And right now, Alastor was weak. She could feel that something bad had happened, but she didn't know what. And she didn't know what to do, either.
Rosie groaned, pacing the floors of her Emporium. Not only was she worried about Alastor, but she was also worried about her people.
She shouldn't be worried. Alastor would be able to feel it, and it would distract him. But she couldn't help herself.
She had never felt the deer this distressed. Not for a long, long time. About eight years, really. Last time he felt like this, he disappeared for seven years.
She couldn't lose him again.
Rosie peered out of the long curtains that hung from the windows, wrapping her own sweater further around her. Should she go over there?
She wanted to help, and she wanted to fight. But, she didn't know how. She hadn't trained with the rest of her people. She had been at the Hotel every day, adding fortifications to it with Sir Pentious, Angel and Husker, but she didn't have enough mind to pay attention to Vagatha and Charlotte's fighting lessons.
There was a small fizzle of magic in the air that pulled Rosie out of her thoughts.
A thud, and a quiet grunt.
And the smell of blood.
Rosie whipped around, her skirt brushing against the ground. She gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.
Oh, Alastor. . .
He was kneeling on the floor, two halves of his -once whole- cane. His ears were pinned against the back of his head, his antlers slightly bigger than their usual resting size. He was shaking profusely, one of his eyes turned to a dial. Stadic filled the air around them, sharp and full of pain.
He was bleeding.
A lot.
A huge slash reached from his right hip to his left shoulder, which he was trying to cover with his arm. There was blood spilling out of it.
Before Alastor could react, Rosie was at his side. He collapsed into her arms, gasping for breath, muttering things that Rosie couldn't quite understand.
Her hands were shaking as Rosie reached under the table, pulling out her first aid kit. Alastor smelled of Angelic Energy. Sickeningly so.
“Alastor?” She had to be fast with stopping his bleeding, that was for sure, but she knew how uncomfortable he got with touch. She was quite handsy with him, really, but this touch was going to be different and difficult. “Sweetie? Can you hear me?”
Alastor blinked, a shiver wracking his body, and he gave her a small mumble in response. His head was in her lap, his ears twitching against her stomach. His ear movements often portrayed his emotions, so she was very glad she could feel them against her.
“I need to take off your jacket and vest, okay?” She was already doing so as she told him. She felt bad, of course, but she wasn't letting him die, damnit.
This was the only time the cannibal felt disgusted by blood. She had tasted Alastors blood before, many times, but. . .
This was awful.
She didn't have any clothes near, and she certainly wasn't going to leave the poor boy alone. She pulled off her own sweater, pressing it to his bloody chest. She would definitely have to throw it away later, but that fact certainly wasn't the worst of her worries. Not even close.
Alastor gritted his teeth and hissed, his arm trying to swat Rosie away. The cannibal felt tears gathering in her own eyes. It was hard to see her friend like this. The man was so strong, so powerful, so damn cocky.
It all felt like a cruel dream to see him like this.
A nightmare.
Rosie absent-mindedly raised her hand and wiped her cheek, and nearly gagged when she felt Alastors warm, sticky blood leave its mark there.
She dug through the first-aid box before she pulled out a small needle and some thread. As much as she didn't want to cause her friend even more pain then he was already in, she knew that the wound would only get worse and more deadly if she didn't sew it up.
The flow had finally slowed down enough, but Alastor had still lost a lot of blood. “Alastor? Baby, are you awake?” It wasn't very often that she used that pet name on him, so she hoped it would spark his attention more than their usual names would.
“Mhhhgh. .”
That wasn't a reply, exactly, but if that was all she could get out of him, she would take it. She pierced the needle through his skin, her lip quivering as she watched him flinch.
Rosie was a cannibal, damnit, she was used to blood and gore and seeing others in pain. She had never reacted to it like this.
Both her hands were preoccupied, so Rosie bent her leg at an angle that was close enough for Alastor to squeeze onto her calf with his hand. He seemed to need some form of touch right now, and it did seem to ground him, at least a little.
The wound won't fully heal on its own. She knew that, of course. She would have to go get some angel blood from somebody. She didn't know who. Stitches and bandages would hold and heal nicely for a week or two, but the full job couldn't be done without the only existing counterpart to Angelic Steal.
Which was, of course, Angel blood.
Swear to Satan, Charlotte better be murdering those bastards as she thinks. If her cannibals didn't murder enough of those cunts, then Rosie would just go over and do it herself. She might be a lady, but she wasn't afraid to kill.
Alastor now seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness, his breathing becoming more soft and quiet.
Rosie pulled the needle through for the last time, cutting the string with her sharp teeth. The taste of blood hit her tongue and she shutterd, swallowing heavily. This was quite possibly the single time in her life that she didn't enjoy that metallic taste.
“What did you get yourself into this time, Alastor?” Rosie said this to herself, but still met Alastors eyes, which were currently open. Alastor smiled weakly, his eyes moving to look at the ceiling, one of his pupils flickering to be a radio dial for a split second.
The deer was no longer bleeding, so Rosie let her hands rest in her lap for a second, trying to ground herself so she didn't have a panic attack in front of the poor man. He had seen her in the throes of anxiety plenty of times before, but she certainly didn't want him to see her like this time.
After her shaking stopped by a significant amount, Rosie tossed the old needle in the trash near the door. She turned, digging through the first aid box again, before pulling out a roll of thick bandages.
She set them down, maneuvering herself around, helping Alastor to sit up against her. She was uncomfortable and her back was aching something fierce, but the overlord honestly didn't care one bit. Her full priority was on Alastor, she came either later, or not at all.
She began to wrap the bandages around Alastor, making sure to cover his stomach and chest fully, before cutting and securing them. She tossed the roll aside, pushing the first aid box away with her foot, and leaning up against the back of the couch.
She kissed Alastors cheek, a familiar comforting sensation for both of them. Rosie took a deep breath, resting her hands in Alastors lap, who was still sitting in her own lap. Alastor let his head lul against her shoulder, and he breathed slowly.
“You came to me.” Rosies voice was almost a whisper. Neither of them moved an inch, and Rosie closed her eyes.
“I did.” Alastors voice was quiet and raspy. “I trust you.”
“Alastor?” Rosie smiled softly. “Saying he trusts someone? Am I sure you're not an angel imposter?”
Alastor held up his hand with the blood pact scar on it. “It's me, don't worry.” He let his hand drop into Rosies. The cannibal rested her own head against the deers.
“Don't die on me, okay?”
“I'll try my best, dear. I promise.”