Rosile

Part 4: Embark

     I saw an advertisement today. Who knew Bammy and Moosica had become models after all this time? I knew it was them, dancing around at some sparkly, picturesque beach while giggling and gossiping about some clothes store they got their oh-so-adorable outfits from. ‘Tres Belle’ I think it’s called, by some French dude. It’s been popular lately ever since it started that trend a while back.

     Aw man, that trend. It’s been causing so much trouble that it’s hilarious. You see, this guy’s been advertising how ‘beautiful’ and ‘stunning’ we all are underneath, and that we can show the world what we’re made of by not wearing any shirts or anything. No really. You can wear an open jacket or whatever, but the chest has to be completely visible. What a load of bullshit, right?

     Of course, this had stirred up a ton of controversy with the chicks. Lots of them protested when their jobs wouldn’t allow them to show off their breasts, or threatened to sue any guy that winds up staring at them for too long. I swear they’re doing it for the attention. Equality, my ass. I went to this cheesy café and got this waitress, who was wearing a lacy pink bra that didn’t go well with her green half-dress. I asked if giving her a big tip would let her take it off, and she hit me. I’m terrible.

     Then again, I shouldn’t be talking. I didn’t know about this trend until after Dolly sucked me into it. I was a poor, naïve sap that decided to replace my old outfit with something cooler, and I figured Dolly would be good help. What help she was. My shirt’s gone obviously, but thankfully I got to keep my jacket. My jeans were replaced with black cargo shorts and a matching double belt that managed to cover my bullet scars. It’s a good thing it’s summer, so I’m okay without a shirt. Winter sucks though, but I always hated winter.

     My hair’s gotten long. I kept pushing off getting it cut, and the next thing I know it’s past my shoulders. It’s gotta be a few inches short of Kyo’s, but I don’t mind it. I never expected it to come out wavy, like almost curly but not really. I remember mom had hair like that, so I must’ve gotten it from that bitch.

     Kyo likes it. He said that it’s kind of odd flowing wildly like that, and asked if I wanted something to hold it back. I agreed, since I didn’t like pushing it out of my face when working on Lucy all the time. He came back with a blue ribbon, and I joked that stealing from Dolly would give him hell. It was actually his, I don’t know how or why, but I let him tie it on me in a bow. It was strange having his hands in my hair, but he seemed really excited to do it. It’s been like that ever since.

     Fun fact: Kyo has to replace the house mirrors twice a month, and I mean all of them. Why doesn’t anyone say anything when his fist is fucking bleeding all over the floor?!

     Note to self: Don’t directly question Kyo’s actions without thinking first. I think I hurt his feelings when I told him I didn’t understand his notes for his story. How does Roses x Guns = Apocalypse?

     …How the hell did Diana get pregnant? I mean they got hitched a year after they started dating, as annoying as it was, but I still can’t imagine them fucking. It’s like imagining two siblings screwing around, where they live under the same house and like each other but you don’t expect much else.

     I remember their wedding too. It was all white and cheesy and had these fancy roses and shit. They were all smiling, drinking, cutting the cake, laughing with relatives… ugh. Diana looked too pretty and blushed too much. Her sister is okay when she’s not a bitter tyrant, but Diana and I would have to ‘play nice’ around Kyo. The big nosed geezer next to me was nice, since he spoke nothing but Russian. He left at some point though, and eventually I was all alone, watching them slow dance all romantically like all spouses do.