Chapter Text
The townsquare in Cannibal Town still remained buzzing with excitement long after Charlie's inspiring song had finished.
She could almost cry — indicative through her stinging eyes and her sniffling nose — over the camaraderie the community was exhibiting for her.
For her cause.
For her fight.
Sure, it might also be because of their macabre hunger for angel flesh, but eh... a win is a win.
The townspeople were still chatting it up near the gazebo, some of the youth being alarmingly excited over ripping apart angels, while the older folk frankly commented on how it's time to "loosen up these old joints". Even Susan looked less crabby than usual, the crone's grating voice softened into something close to desire while she went on and on about finally having something good to eat in this godforsaken town.
Charlie stood proud and tall at the gazebo, her hand still clutching the skull-ornamented baton that Rosie had given her, while the aforementioned stood by, beaming.
Rosie meant what she said earlier. She liked Charlie. Her moxie.
It almost reminded her of herself, centuries ago.
But a sudden thought had her smile faltering.
Charlie needed more than just ambition and a few decrepit cannibals to win against Heaven. Against Adam, most of all.
Even with her lively "guests" at the hotel fighting alongside her, it wouldn't be nearly enough, and Alastor certainly wouldn't do the trick either.
Speaking of the geezer, he was already ambling off, rounding up the cannibals and cheerily urging them to follow him and Charlie back to the hotel.
She simply watched — almost letting Charlie run off — but when the girl turned to give her an optimistic wave goodbye, she paused.
"Charlie-! Wait," Rosie chirped, hitching up her skirt to stride down the stairs and catch up to the princess.
Charlie turned, a look of confusion plastered across her face as Rosie stopped in front of her.
"Listen, hon'," she took Charlie's hand, patting it," as much as I want to believe that my posse's tough enough for ya, they're... not exactly brunos." She inched her head towards a gaggle of prim-and-proper locals guffawing at another one of Alastor's banal jokes; the ladies still use fans to cover their mouths, while the men clear their throats politely and apologize for their volume.
Charlie followed her gaze, but that irritatingly positive smile reappeared. "Oh! Welllll... sure, we have a lot of work to do and they... may not know how to fight properly, but I know that we can definitely beat off Heaven! Especially with their passion. Even if it is a lil' grotesque..." She trailed off to lock eyes with a little girl munching on some poor bastard's arm.
Rosie shook her head, smiling, though it was obviously tinged with concern as she forced, "And I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job training these hoodlums. All I'm sayin' is, you should have a backup plan."
"A backup plan?" Charlie turned puzzled. "But- this was kind of the backup plan. I mean- our first plan went bad because of that meeting with Heaven and Vaggie and everything, but we wanted to meet with Heaven to convince them to call off the extermination, so we didn't have to fight! But now we have to, so technically, this is the backup plan? But it's also kind of a second... first plan at the same time-"
"Charlie. Honey."
Charlie abruptly stopped, a bashful grin spreading, "Sorry," though she continued anyway, "But basically, we have no backup plans left. My dad won't help me. I don't know anyone else besides you who'll lend me a whole army-"
"You don't. But I do," Rosie declared.
Stuttering, Charlie blinked a few times, "S-..Sorry, what?"
"Your chaverah here's got connections," Rosie winked, though it was less confident than usual.
Charlie grinned, "That's great! You know someone else who can help us?!"
In response, Rosie shrugged, pulling away, "Sure, if you can convince her like ya did for them."
The princess straightened up, putting on a mock serious face paired with a mock salute, "Yes, I can!"
Rosie tittered affectionately, "I'm sure you can." Charlie noted a flicker of doubt in her tone... or was it anxiety? Either way, she didn't comment on it when Rosie continued, "Her name's Bri. Lives in Pirate's Bay." Charlie's thoughts jumbled immediately at the mention of Pirate's Bay. She vaguely remembered it as a little girl, but nothing more.
"Just walk all the way down here-" Rosie pointed in the general direction of the Doomsday district, "-And take a hard right just before that old cowboy saloon with all the painted ladies on the sign. Ya can't miss the bay 'cuz it has a huge sign that says 'Landlubbers Not Welcome'. She lives on the ship with the dragon as its masthead. Got little roofs and those swallowtail flags for sails."
She paused.
"It might... look different, so if you have trouble findin' it, it's surrounded by these smaller ones, kinda look like longboats and got those big billowy sails." Her face fell for a moment, her voice lowering to a hush, "Those I know are still there."
Charlie mentally made notes, not only the way to find 'Bri', but also on how Rosie talked about her. She spoke up, "Uhm... do you.. Maybe wanna go with me? Sounds like you know her prettyyy well. Maybe she'll be more convinced by you!"
Rosie snapped out of it, her smile returning in full force, "Oh no, hon'. We haven't met in... years. If anything, I think I'd just ruin your chances."
Charlie hesitated, "...Okay... Sh-..Should I tell her that you sent me-?" "Oh, stars no! No, I don't think that'd be very wise either."
An awkward silence settled between them, and Rosie eyed the movement of a familiar shadow shifting through her begonias.
'Snooper.'
"You should run along now, Charlie," Rosie ushered her on, steering her — both hands on her shoulders — in the direction of the Doomsday district. "I'll tell Alastor to round everyone up at your hotel."
Charlie nodded, handing back the baton, "Okay! Rosie, I can't thank you enough for how-"
"Don't even mention it, hon'." She gave Charlie a light push and waved as she marched away with newfound determination.
"Oh-! And don't forget to call her Captain!" She called out after Charlie, who responded with a thumbs-up.
She stood there for a moment, watching Charlie walk away with a pit of dread in her stomach, her heels scuffing lightly against the cobblestone when she shifted.
"Was that really a wise decision, my dear?"
Rosie huffed out a smirk.
Alastor's static was tuned into a particular frequency that was downright piercing.
"I'd like to think so. Maybe not the wisest, but she's gonna need some extra firepower to beat Adam," Rosie turned slightly to face her cohort.
His smile was twisted in a way that made his nose wrinkle, almost in disdain, "Certainly not the wisest."
Rosie chuckled, "Oh Al, you're bad. But my point still stands, she's the second-best thing Charlie's got. I'm the first, of course."
"Enlighten me, how?" He mused, fingers tightening around his microphone staff.
Rosie began strutting back to her emporium, "You'll see."
Alastor turned, or rather, his head did, neck snapping as it turned all the way, "She won't help. Not a finger, not when she's got the blue devils."
Rosie stopped, "She'll perk up."
Alastor's grin widened, "Perk up to fight? Or perk up for you?" His microphone gave out feedback as a pre-recorded audience 'ooohed'.
Rosie shook her head fondly. "Kick rocks, Al. It's time you led your new army back to the hotel, anyway."
Alastor's head snapped back in place. "Alright! Whatever you say, teedy." He pranced away, clapping his hands to gather attention.
His merry shouting was muffled as Rosie shut the double doors to the emporium behind her.
She let out a distressed sigh.
It had been... what? A century? Give or take?
A century since Rosie saw the parrot plummeting from the sky, a flurry of detached feathers plunging with her. Her wings useless after she was mutilated by an exterminator.
A century since Rosie dragged her out of the rubble and into the emporium.
A century since Rosie fixed her wings with ichor, but knew she would never fly again.
A century since her failure, since she fell from the graces of the other overlords and promised never to return out of shame.
A century since she lost her friend.
Rosie sighed again.
'Charlie's gotta be a miracle worker to get her to fight.'