[ loud, angry voices draws near his hiding place, and Rosinante presses both of his hands tightly over his mouth, carefully muffling his own terrified whimpers. his whole body is shaking from the mixture of cold, fright, and exhaustion, but he only curls up tighter into the small niche between a broken down wall, trying to make himself as small as possible as to disappear between the crumbling rocks and the full-to-bursting garbage bin in this filthy back alley.
he couldn't afford to be found, not by the townspeople who only ever want to hurt him, but also by his own brother. another shudder went violently through his body as the scene of his father's death repeats itself in full clarity in his head, and Rosinante barely bit back the urge to wail in grief.
how? how could Doffy do that to their own father (their dear, beloved father who had been so kind and gentle)?
Rosinante hadn't been able to stomach it, the way his brother beheaded their father's corpse after shooting him. Rosinante had spent the entire time crying so hard, pleading, beseeching for Doffy to stop, (stop, please, brother, don't do it!) until one of Doffy's new friends had seen it fit to silence him by punching him so hard, all the breath was knocked out of him and leaving him with a broken rib or two as well. and when Doffy laid out his plan to his friends of bringing their father's head back to the Holy Land, with voice filled with manic glee, of pride and purpose that was so wrong, so very wrong for one who just killed a loving parent, and right there and then Rosinante made up a plan of his own.
he couldn't stay. not with Doffy descending into madness like that. not with his brother who listened more to his friends more than he ever listened to Rosinante now, these "friends" who are filled with ideas so horrific in their cruelty that frightened Rosinante down to his bones.
and so he ran away. and he was chased. and chased. and Rosinante could only run more, more and more until his feet gave up on him, his legs crumpling beneath him, and hide, always hiding, from all the people who would only bring him pain.
the voices draw even closer, and Rosinante squeezes his eyes shut, trembling. ]
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he couldn't afford to be found, not by the townspeople who only ever want to hurt him, but also by his own brother. another shudder went violently through his body as the scene of his father's death repeats itself in full clarity in his head, and Rosinante barely bit back the urge to wail in grief.
how? how could Doffy do that to their own father (their dear, beloved father who had been so kind and gentle)?
Rosinante hadn't been able to stomach it, the way his brother beheaded their father's corpse after shooting him. Rosinante had spent the entire time crying so hard, pleading, beseeching for Doffy to stop, (stop, please, brother, don't do it!) until one of Doffy's new friends had seen it fit to silence him by punching him so hard, all the breath was knocked out of him and leaving him with a broken rib or two as well. and when Doffy laid out his plan to his friends of bringing their father's head back to the Holy Land, with voice filled with manic glee, of pride and purpose that was so wrong, so very wrong for one who just killed a loving parent, and right there and then Rosinante made up a plan of his own.
he couldn't stay. not with Doffy descending into madness like that. not with his brother who listened more to his friends more than he ever listened to Rosinante now, these "friends" who are filled with ideas so horrific in their cruelty that frightened Rosinante down to his bones.
and so he ran away. and he was chased. and chased. and Rosinante could only run more, more and more until his feet gave up on him, his legs crumpling beneath him, and hide, always hiding, from all the people who would only bring him pain.
the voices draw even closer, and Rosinante squeezes his eyes shut, trembling. ]