The girl wasn’t so daft as to not see the hatred that burned so deeply in the dragon’s eyes - even if the expression in those teal orbs of his transitioned between agony of sustained injuries and slight curiosity. Things like these were minor details easily overlooked, but at this range, it was hard not to stare back and drink in every trait. Once more, as he examined her closely, Rosalie was forced to take another step back; moving further away from the sword she had stuck in the ground that in these short moments had become her small charm of safety and comfort. It was slipping away with each step she was forced to take back and she was quickly coming to realise that she would have to rely on her words and not sharp, pointy things to wave at the dragon. Was he thinking about chomping down on her? She could imagine it now and came to the conclusion that each time he decided to peer closely at her, he was coming up with new and inventive ways of killing her. It was the most common feeling people got. When faced with an animal known to be dangerous, one of the most common thoughts would be ‘is it going to eat me?’ It was fairly reasonable considering she was facing something much larger than herself.

She really had hoped that Gore would listen to what she had to say and that was why she had given up her possession of Glenn’s blade so quickly. Perhaps Rosalie knew she couldn’t hope to take on a creature of this mass and survive, or perhaps she was luring him into a false sense of security. She would allow Gore to make his own assumptions as it appeared he didn’t trust her, anyway. She was extremely unhappy with the outcome, but what could she do? Cry? That wasn’t going to change anything or bring Glenn, the man with the answers she sought out, back. 

The sword -in one way or another- caused the dragon some level of distress or at least captivated him, Rosalie often finding that his gaze would drift back to it even though it was practically harmless without someone waiting to swing it at him. [i]Why?[/i] There was no way that she could reach for it without first rousing even more suspicion in the dragon. Her light brown eyes focused intently on the blade once more, lingering over the dried blood on the weapon that could still be seen reaching centimetres from the ground of which it was embedded like ivy twisting up against a wall. [i]Is that Gore’s blood? Hmm...[/I] The girl thought to herself, pursing her lips. She assumed it was one possible reason as to why the beast kept eyeing it. He had had a taste of it, it seemed.

The blade was highly unlikely to spring to life anytime soon; she had tried it. Perhaps she hadn’t found the switch, but she had flipped what had been moveable several times to be yielded with nothing more than a few clicking noises for her half-hearted attempts. Perhaps she should try looking more closely? Out of the question.
She allowed her eyes to wander over the dragon’s form, making quick note of his injuries that still wept. To her, these wounds were chinks in his armour. Dragon scales were quite durable, and, collect enough of them and you would be able to make armour or any other accessory you could think of. Rosalie had only wanted one, though, and it was not for the reason of dressing up to impress a special someone. No, of course not. Still, it was difficult for her to stand staring at the wounds for very long and instead, she tried to figure out why Gore had laid himself on the ground now, curling up. Did it mean he was willing to listen to her or did it mean he was willing to amuse her for a bit before her death. If it was the latter, oh how kind he was! [i]No, no. Don’t![/I] She told herself, [i]just try to stay calm. I can do this. Just...deep breaths and don’t panic. Who cares if you’re staring Death right in the eyes![/I] Rosalie tried to cheer herself on, though what mental image of triumph she was trying to conjure was suddenly lost as her eyes flitted over Gore’s battle scars. She swallowed dryly. [i]Okay...maybe I do care.[/i]

Gore’s responses to her questions relieved her as it confirmed that he knew of their common dialect, though how much was still rather questionable. By that simple action, it meant Gore was listening. She had to stop for a moment. The Blood Dragon listening to her? The level of disbelief Rosalie had welling up inside her right now was almost enough to rival her initial feelings of when she had first caught a glimpse of the crimson beast. It was far from it, but there seemed to be some small amount of trust that was comparable to a single grain of sand. Perhaps responding to her questions could be a mistake on Gore’s part seeing as it only gave Rosalie more of a reason to stay in his presence. He hadn’t killed her yet, but she felt that he was somewhat responsible for setting her back a few months if not years. “Then... maybe I can help you try to familiarise yourself with this day and age if you’ll travel with me?” She tried again, pulling a slightly uncertain face. Maybe it was out of line to ask that as it may just be wasting his time and hers, but she didn’t have the life span of a dragon. All the information she had managed to gather from customers who visited the store she worked at had pointed to Glenn and a few close associates of his. Had his associates died along with him?

Gore rearing his head back just screamed that whatever little ‘trust’ he might have had for her -if any at all- was shattered. In place of his head, Rosalie was now just within arm’s reach -if not slightly more- of his neck. Safe to say, she was torn between running to safer ground and pulling out the arrows that were tauntingly close. She had watched him earlier, pulling out arrows by the water, and though he no longer looked like some sort of red porcupine, there were still some projectiles left lodged in his form. What was he waiting for, to roll over and have them pierce deeper into his flesh? He was free to do so. Who was she to stop him? There was, however, a small part of her -hidden beneath that fear and uncertainty she carried- that didn’t want to see anyone suffer. She was no leader who thought she could change the course of everything just by being involved, but she wanted to convince Gore that she wasn’t out to hurt him. It was going to be no easy task considering what he had just escaped from, but what choice did she have? 

Gore may kill her, but desperation overrode reason and a few seconds had her reaching out. She didn’t give him much time to ready himself, however, already taking hold of one of the arrows whilst making sure she had a firm grip with what little time she had been given. Arrows were nasty things because of the way they were designed, doing even more damage when pulled out, but she reckoned she would be able to avoid pulling it at an angle. Rosalie leaned back whilst pulling to make it quick. It wasn’t just for Gore’s sake; she didn’t want to be near him, either. The arrow came free with a squelching sound after a bit of resistance, the girl attempting to move back while keeping the arrow in plain view. If she lives a little while longer, she would dare to point it at him while tilting her head slightly as if asking him to take a look and confirm what she held in her hand. Rosalie could have done worse and taken advantage of the situation, but she needed his help even if she hadn’t openly admitted it.