She’s a 4 but you can’t hear her thoughts and she wears a long khaki skirt

Return and Recover

{ Some Rp that occurred between @natereising and Roselyn here in Discord. Sharing it because <3 Thank you for reading if you do! }

To Ms. Roselyn Handhour

Care of the Cathedral of Light Stormwind City Dear Ms. Handhour, I hope this parcel finds you in good health. During my last visit to the Cathedral District in Stormwind I had the brief pleasure of meeting you when our paths quite literally crossed. Before I had the opportunity to return your sketchbook, you had vanished into the crowd. I hope you do not think it too forward of me as I took the liberty of opening it in search of some means of identifying the owner. That name led me to you. Rest assured that my search only took me as far as the inside cover, so I remain ignorant of the contents as not to invade your privacy any further. Best Wishes, Nathaneal Reising Menethil Harbor

Nathaneal glanced over the letter one final time, debating whether or not to simply send the parcel by mail. While it certainly would have been easier, the writer knew that he would not trust one of his journals to be handled with sufficient care in transit. The proper thing would be to deliver it himself, regardless of how uncomfortable it made him. The towering walls of the Cathedral seemed like an insurmountable challenge, yet he had to press on. Lowering his gaze to the cold stones beneath his feet, the man trembled as he shuffled across the threshold. Had he looked up, Nathaneal would have seen a young woman in a nun’s habit approach. She spoke some kind words of welcome, yet the man did not seem to listen. Ms. Roselyn Handhour. Ms. Roselyn Handhour. Ms. Roselyn-- “Sir?” the woman asked curiously to the seemingly frozen form of Nathaneal. Looking up, he drew in a deep breath before carefully speaking the words he had been practicing in his mind. “M-m-m-ms R-r-r-ose,” was all he managed to get out before the words caught in his throat. His shoulders tensed as a few sputtered sounds came forth. His arms clutching the sketchbook closer to his chest, he blinked his eyes several times in his struggle for the proper sounds. “Ha-ha-hand--” “Ms. Roselyn Handhour?” the nun quickly finished for him. “Try the Gilded Rose. And if you find her, tell her to come back to the church pantry. We can spare some food. Silly girl. ” Without another word, the man bowed rigidly to the woman, his eyes not leaving the floor as he turned to make his swift egress. With a quickened pace, Nathaneal made his way to the Trade District.

The Gilded Rose was of course crowded for poor Nathaneal, one-too-many people turning to look his way as he would make his entrance. The nun had offered to hold the sketchbook and put it into the proper hands when found, but clearly the man was on a mission. The innkeeper struggled to hear the stammering Nathaneal over the noise the drunken pair of lads were making at the bar, taking turns making up the words to some slurred sailor diddy at the bar. They just…were not very good at holding the tune. Or their beer. It ought to have been easy to find a Rose at a Rose, but it seemed it was more of a challenge than it should have been. On the upper floor of the tavern the artist tried to keep to her own little table, her head and hair in her hands in some defeat. She’d looked everywhere she could for her sketchbook, and it was killing her that she’d lost another little piece of Gilneas that was left.

Weaving in and out of the drunken patrons, Nathaneal forced his attention to the individuals scattered around the tavern. Though as soon as someone set their sights on him, the awkward man seemed to recoil, regardless of the distance between himself and the onlooker. Ducking his head to avoid further eye contact with any one person, he continued to scan the room. Having no luck on the first floor, Nathaneal was relieved that as he ascended the stairs to the second floor, the area seemed a little more sparsely covered. He glanced to a young woman sitting alone, looking a bit more sullen than the rest of the raucous lot. While he hadn’t had a good glimpse of her during their encounter a few days prior, the man thought at least she might be the safest to approach in hopes of finding the owner of the sketchbook. Licking his lips to wet them, he took a few hesitating steps closer. The book still held tightly to his chest, he attempted to clear his throat to draw the woman’s attention.

The sullen woman had started to lift her head from the table, dewey amber eyes peering out helplessly from choppy, curling mahogany locks. She stared through blurring tears at the gent that began to approach her table, and on gradually recognizing him, she shot up from her chair like a bullet. "Ohhh....!" her lips were captured with the surprise, face a conflict of relief and pain as she nearly tried to mob the poor man with her sketchbook in his arms.

Nathaneal stared in wide eyed horror as the woman leapt from her chair. Taking a stumbling step backwards, his arms shoved the book forward almost as if in tribute. The letter he carried with it fell from his hands, fluttering down until it came to rest at her feet. He made no attempt to speak, fearing that the women's sudden movement would thrust him over the banister at his back and the pair of them would tumble to the bar below. And, to be honest, he knew that he wouldn't be able to get any words out until it was too late anyway. Instead he braced himself for a potential impact.

Roselyn seemed to regain herself just before actually crashing into the man, very aware of his own reaction and not wanting a repeat of what had happened in the trade district tunnel a day ago. Sheepishly  pursing her lips together, she  whispered out a trembling little chuckle of "'m'sorry..." and wiped her face of its wetness. Sniffling, she bent to pick up the letter that fluttered to the ground before rising again to gently reach, curling her fingers around the edges of the sketchbook, waiting until he released  it before taking it herself.

He readily relinquished the book, relieved to return it to its rightful owner. Arms falling to his sides, the man seemed to straighten, thought he could only make brief periods of eye contact. "S-s-sorry," he made a soft apology, inwardly thankful of the letter that was in the women's hands. At least that way, he wouldn't have to explain anything more verbally. Or so he hoped.

Standing there awkwardly for a moment as she now closed the sketchbook to her chest, Rose smiled weakly at his apology, shaking her head, realizing all she really had to say was "sorry" in the moment, and it would seem a vicious circle of apology. What was done, was done. It was fixed now, and she bobbled her head in a nod at him again...as if the poor man was expected to grasp on her awkward visual cues somehow? At last she formed words to try to articulate her thankfulness. "It...it means a lot? I...ehm. I mean. I've other sketchbooks but...this one's a bit special?" She murmured even her explanations as inquires, hoping she made some kind of sense.

Nodding in understanding, Nathaneal offered her a faint smile, though his brow remained creased in concern. He bowed his head as he attempted to speak.  "G-g-glad I c-c-could find you, M-m-miss." He clasped his hands behind his back, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. He shot a glance to the staircase to his left, calculating the fastest escape route.

At ease, but painfully aware of the man's discomfort, Rose nodded silently, not wanting to keep him longer than he wanted to be. He had certainly done enough on his own end. If anything, he made her feel more awkward by the second. "Okay. I'm...I'm thinking I'm going to leave...?" She tried, indicating that it was alright for him to do the same.

His tensed shoulders seemed to relax at the prospect of making his retreat, yet he didn't waver from his spot. "I c-c-could w-w-w--" His face contorted as he fought with the word that refused to come. A light tap of a finger to his leg turned into a more forceful, repetitive pat. In a sudden burst of sound, Nathaneal was able to continue. "Walk you ou-out."

"Uh..." Roselyn uttered the sound with soft uncertainty, watching Nate struggle with concern. "Only if you want to?" She smiled weakly, puffing out a little nervous chortle that ran through her words. "Don't want to run into you again." She'd stop herself, squeezing her eyes shut hard at how rude that sounded. "...I...ehm...I mean literally. With the tunnel? And....things like that." A hand flashed out at her side to try to add to her emphasis of what she meant. She'd start to scoot forward slowly for the stair, giving Nate time to decide how he would like to exit, or position himself near her.

Walking at her side, the man didn't dare look up from the floor. It was a miracle he was able to dodge the other tavern goers so easily. "N-n-na," he started to attempt a word, yet quickly fell into a defeated silence. Drawing in a trembling breath, a soft sigh escaped on the exhale. His attention finally lifted to the door exiting the Gilded Rose. A look of relief washed over his features. Just a few more steps…

Light filtered in through the Gilded Rose as Roselyn pushed open the door, introducing the two back to the outdoors they were eager on seeing. She waited for Nathaneal to slip out before she followed suit. The letter had been scrunched up in her hand, and realizing that, she shifted the sketchbook in her arms to take a moment to read over it. A long moment, rather, that gave Nathaneal yet another moment to make his full escape as she was distracted. Rose was softly smiling at the letter then, uttering a quiet "Thank you, Mister Reising. For...for all the trouble. And...ehm. walking me out, here." He had beautiful, impeccable handwriting, and Rose kept finding her eyes drawn back to his words.

The moment they moved back outdoors, Nathaneal's rigid, almost clockwork posture eased to something more human. He breathed an audible sigh of relief to be free of the crowds of the Gilded Rose. He waited while Roselyn finished the letter, a soft smile playing about his lips as he nodded. "Y-y-you needn't th-thank me.  I know h-h-how dev-devastated I would be if-if I lost one of m-m-my journals." The words came a bit more fluidly, even his tone relaxed. "I-I am g-glad that I w-w-was able to f-find y-you."

A quick nod, a little embarassed with her train of thought as she folded the letter back into the pages of her sketchbook. As Nate seemed to relax, so did she, though for a long moment she didn't know what else could be said. Then, suddenly: "Is it horr'ble that it's not quite the first time've lost it?" She chortled through a corner of her mouth with that not-quite-smile.

He chuckled warmly, his smile brightening. "N-no. Not h-h-horrible. Th-thankfully I-I don't l-l-leave Men-menethil much, or else I m-might be in the s-s-same situation." He bowed his head, turning his attention to the ground between them, yet the smile remained on his lips.

"Eheh, well. Think I..ehm. need t'find a way not to be such a klutz." She murmured very quickly under her breath, fingering the bind of the precious sketchbook now. Her voice was still just a tad tremulous from the teary reunion with it, her touch on the pages and leather covering nearly apologetic. "Is the last bit've Old Gilly I really have." Amber eyes slid gradually back to Nate, finding him easier to look at when he wasn't directly staring on her. This allowed curiosity to flow. "Well...I..I've never....i mean I don't leave Stormwind much now....so I do wager we have that in common? Though...am quite thinking it's time to change that too." "Is...ehm...Menethil nice? Never really been there."

He nodded, only glancing up briefly as he spoke. "I-i-it is. M-m-much more ser-ser-ser--" Nathaneal paused, closing his eyes as his jaw tensed with the attempt of the word. Serene. Serene... With a slow breath, he felt the tension dissipate, allowing him to continue. "Sssssserene." He exhaled the remainder of the breath, his eyes fluttering open. "I pre-prefer it to S-s-s-stormind."

Rose watched the struggle with his words, her brow creasing with guilt now that it began to dawn on her that words seemed to even be more difficult for him than even, herself.

It all turned her back to a tactiturn quiet, not wanting to force more conversation he would be more comfortable without. "...well...thank you..." she finally peeped out, almost in a barely heard whisper, not knowing what else to add in a moment where all words simply seemed inadequate for her in the face of personal concern.

Nathaneal's smile suddenly faded, his posture visibly wilting at Rose's change in demeanor. The man bowed his head, unable to make any further eye contact for fear of further insult. "Of c-c-course. I w-w-won't de-detain you an-an-any longer... Good-good day M-m-miss Ha-ha-handhour."

With the returning unease thick in the air, Roselyn saw herself away, though the unease did not leave her as she left for the Cathedral, and the lake which was her little harbor behind it. Walking through the cemetary, a plethora of words came to her that she could have said, long after they had parted ways. She hadn't even offered to repay her sudden savior for his trouble! How rude!

Once seated at her place on the fishing isle, she nodded silently at the fisherman there  with a wry, smile, and opened up the saved sketchbook to a new, fresh page.

She would have to do something special for Mister Reising.

{ @natereising <3 Thank you for lovely awkward rps! Look forward to following up with Rose’s gift in return! }

In honor of Heidi Klum’s amazing Halloween costume…

It would’ve been a better love story if one of the Cullen’s should have slipped up and killed someone in the timeline of Bella meeting them.

She should have been scared, she should have questioned what price immortality came at, she should have overcome that fear-however temporarily- and come back to Edward on her own terms. He would have given her space and in her own time realized she still felt like she belonged as a vampire and with him. Her actually accepting consequences of immortality and still finding love may have actually made me support her and Edward together.

Why did Edward not buy a heated blanket for his late night cuddles with Bella?

Rosalie becomes a NASCAR driver and is undefeated for 10 years

She’s a 8 but she runs a Twilight shitpost account

👏👏

Bella: Hey can you open this jar?

Edward: *accidentally opens it too hard and breaks it sending baby dill pickles flying everywhere*

Bella: Dammit Edward! I really wanted those…

Edward:

Making my boyfriend watch Twilight with me- he doesn’t get why the movies are so funny

I like to think that Esme has tried to make recipes using various animal bloods. Like she knows chicken blood plus just a dash of coyote blood tastes similar to chicken soup for days when her adoptive children are sad.