If You Had Prepared 20 Years Ago...
I love my darling Roger-- He makes me laugh, and I'd do anything for my husband! And I do mean anything, darling- But let's not test those waters, mm?
If you're ever around Toontown, do drop me a line.The Rabbit home is always open to visitors!
part of/ mod of disneyroleplay
Potential trigger warnings for child-loss, sadness, mother’s day posting.
Time, much like many things in Facilier’s life, was slow moving. As such, it was difficult for him to consistently keep up with how much time passed and how long it was until future events. Homebody life with a forever seemingly poor running home business led to a plentiful amount of time to do a great deal of introspection and self examination… as well as allow him to read more books and play more games of Idiot’s Delight than he’d care try to count, own up to, or admit.
As much as anything else, Facilier repeatedly took care to continue his practice of keeping watch on the few he knew and cared for in his own way. While he knew well enough that his cards, as well as his interpretation of the spreads were far from infallible, every indication that trouble (of what sort he could never know - he had no illusions that even the greatest of magical folk could see every detail) had been stirred and felt left him touched with varying levels of worry. Sometimes, there would be days where he would debate whether or not to pay house and work visits just in case.
Naturally, as was his way, he never did.
He repeatedly tried putting it out of mind, fully aware that oftentimes his attempts to help when unasked most commonly resulted in endings that could easily be marked into charters of poorly done things in life.
The knock came during the middle of a frustrating third game of solitaire, serving as only mild reprieve from his agitation towards his cards. When he opened his door, his irritation quickly turned into surprise. Surprise that, at first, felt pleasant - but it then rapidly remolded itself into the familiar feeling of worry.
He stepped to the side and motioned gently for her to come in, “Y’all look like you need to talk - go on an’ get comfortable and I’ll get us some tea.”
Roger wasn’t certain for how long he had been staring at that picture, but by the time he had looked up, the clock mounted on the kitchen wall had fallen asleep. He glanced back down to it, it’s edges warm from years of handling, and slipped it into his pocket. The cookbook lay open on the kitchen table, it’s pages displaying a carrot cake stacked high with layers and drizzled generously with white icing.
Normally such a sight would send him into a frenzy, and he’d rush to the cabinets in a mad attempt to see if they had all the required ingredients. But today… he simply blinked lazily at the image.
His eyes felt heavy, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. So, taking a deep breath, the rabbit pushed himself away from the table and hopped out of his chair. The book remained upright on the kitchen table as he walked from the room.
The house was so quiet when Jessica wasn’t around — and he could see now why that was. Outside their window, the cheerful sun had begun its descent below the singing hills only a few blocks away. Suddenly, and without warning, the entire backdrop of the sky shifted. The sun plummeted down below the horizon, and the moon shot straight up into the now-darkened night sky.
Toontown sunsets weren’t nearly as long as their L.A. counterpart, but the sight was nothing new; and within moment, the rabbit was beginning his slumped-over trek back towards their bedroom. His large feet dragged on the ground as he entered the room and looked upon the empty bed.
Releasing a sigh, Roger entered the room and changed into his pajamas with a quick spin, then plunked himself into bed. He lay on his back, and his vision moved up to the ceiling, fingers furled together on his stomach and foot tapping away uneasily. A car passed outside, and he sat up momentarily, hoping it might have been Jessica, but no turn of the doorknob followed.. Reluctantly, he laid himself down once more, and tried to get to sleep — despite the fact that he was wide awake.
Twisting her ring on her hand, she smiled, though a little flatly, and moved inside as she wrapped her hands around her arms,
"That sounds-" Her voice faltered for a moment before finding itself as she lifted her head, "That sounds lovely.”
The sound of the door shutting behind her was almost a relief and she exhaled at the closing off of the world. This was what she needed— Somewhere distant, somewhere still safe and comfortable. Somewhere quiet to gather thoughts with someone who could sympathize, to who she could be honest—
Well, no. Not quite. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be honest with Roger- She was, wasn’t she? Nearly always? - But that she worried so. He shouldn’t have to face her failures and shortcomings, not like this. The bitter taste of a memory flooded her thoughts and her hands fell from her arms immediately, remembering Maroon, the will, the blackmail—
No. She’d been honest then. She’d done it for him. She hadn’t wanted too, but it was there, all the same.
No wonder he left so often. He deserved so much better.
Sinking into the small home, Jessica moved past the tables piled with dust and trinkets, with calling cards and playing cards, tarot cards and letters of note, thrown aside. Her eyes lingered over a carefully written, smudged page, but the words were distant and she couldn’t focus; it wasn’t her place too, anyway. She moved into a chair with a soft thump, and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, raking one hand through her hair. She could hear the distant noises of clattering cups, and her eyes traced the room curiously. Shadow was usually here, but perhaps she wasn’t looking hard enough.
It felt like an ongoing theme.
Facilier’s return caused her to look up with a faint, nervous smile as she reached forward to accept a cup. Her voice was listless as she tried for formality,
"It’s been a while…?" But that too trailed off, and she found herself putting the cup aside and digging the heels of her palms against her eyes, shoulders pulled forward as she managed to just barely utter,
And found her shoulders shaking, and hating herself all the more for being unable to stop it as all the exhaustion, nerves and worry flooded out.
ONLINE on and off; Homework and threads!
Roger - Golden Age; Pre-Spring
Roger & Faci - Burrows, Revisited
Hans, Kuzco, Roger - Roadtrip
Elsa - Red Hot
Zarina - Ink and Dust
Ranging — Set in a Forest
After Hours - Set in Ink & Paint
(maybe adult characters only? It is a night club/bar type scene. I can’t imagine it not being awkward with kids. :X)
//: WORKING ON
Continually updating my threads page;
Trying to go back way, way to the start of DRP. O_O;
“Oh, a morning walk?” Roger nodded, but had a small inkling that it wasn’t the entire truth. In the past, he would have believed her with unwavering certainty; and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for doubting her. He chose to believe her, if only for the fear of why she would be lying to him.
Still… he should have been jumping at the chance to join her on a ‘morning’ walk. Now though, he refrained because that uncomfortable doubt still gnawed away at him from the back of his mind. If she was lying, he didn’t want to know.
That, and he couldn’t help but noticed that she didn’t seem to want him to come. Worry entered the equation, mingling with the doubt. He bit his lip and looked towards the door of their front house. It was watching them with a somewhat sullen expression that was none too reassuring.
“Oh, okay…” He answered, beginning to step passed her and back to their house. “And no, I don’t need anything.” Just you. “Have fun.” He didn’t look back as he crossed her path and opened their door. Keeping his eyes fixated on his feet, he shut the door behind him and leaned back against its wooden surface, pulling his ears over his eyes as he sunk down against the floor and brought his knees towards his chest.
Maybe he should have gone with her. Maybe there was still time. Maybe she didn’t want him to.
A small whimper came from him as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and waited to make sure that she wasn’t planning on coming back in the house. But minutes passed, and there was no sign of her.
With a sniff, he pushed himself from the floor and wiped an arm across his face. His feet dragged as he moved through the entrance and crossed into the kitchen, where he flicked on a light. The table they normally ate breakfast at had clutter strewn across it. Letters and coffee mugs, and newspapers with circled want ads. He sighed as he passed it, and made his way to the cupboard — Jessica had been resourceful enough to make them put all the cookbooks on the bottom shelf, so he could reach them without having to climb on the counter. He was thankful for it now as he pulled it open and brought out a specific book.
Holding it in his hands, he turned and closed the cupboard door with a push from his foot. Taking the book, he hopped up onto a seat before the kitchen table, and plopped the book down.
A small bookmark stuck out from in-between the pages, and he flipped through the book until he reached it. Pulling out the bookmark revealed it to be a photo. It was a black and white photograph depicting Jessica in a stunning white dress, smile on her face and hand circled around Roger’s on a knife as they sliced through their wedding cake.
He sat back in the seat and looked at it.
"Mhm," Jessica nodded carefully, and reflexively placed one hand in the other. Her fingertips brushed over her wedding ring and turned it, as they often did.
Did he still wear his? It was hard to tell beneath the gloves, and though she was almost always in gloves herself, the outline was still there, be it satin or velvet or leather; Always a reminder, always that tether, the big promise to many, many small promises.
No, I don’t need anything—
The door shutting behind her made her jump. She wanted to turn back and throw it open, to ask if he really didn’t need anything, to ask if he really, really didn’t want anything—
She did. She did so much that it ached, even stepping off the porch and onto the sidewalk, down the drive and down the block. She couldn’t remember where she’d wanted to walk in the first place— It was morning. Mostly morning.
No bars would be open, and that was a bad idea to start with— Never drink in sad spirits was a personal rule. She didn’t follow it very well, but she did try.
The last thing she needed was to shop; new things couldn’t replace the missing ones, or fill the empty rooms the way they needed to be filled. They didn’t have the money— The reality was more noodles and rice than it was cakes and steak dinners right now. They’d bounce back to normal, sure, but in the space between ‘normals’ they dragged—
What if they didn’t bounce back? Not monetarily; she knew they’d both be fine on that end. What had the first year of her life been like in the states if not a hole-in-the-wall and five-cent meals? A carton of eggs had lasted a week and a half—
Times and money had changed, but she hadn’t. Had she?
She swallowed. Perhaps that was it; perhaps it was a change. Perhaps it was a change she needed.
Without much thought, she took a left and found herself at a familiar intersection; she hadn’t used one of the public access portals for a long time, but it looked to still be.. Functional, if not a little worn down.
Stepping through, she announced, “The Doc’s.”
The pulling sensation tugged at the corner of her eyes and the wind made them blur with tears as the distances passed by—
At least, that’s what she told herself as she straightened herself to her best, and exhaled. It’d been a while, but— Good company as any.
She knocked on the door thrice.