*holds My Disabled Rosinante Hcs In My Hands* - Tumblr Posts
【 h.c. 】 ー glass ankle. (chronic ankle instability).
rosinante's body is fucked.
there's no other way to describe it: it's just fucked. before the abuse suffered at the lynch mobs, before he ever saw any combat as a marine, or with doffy’s crew—he was his own single biggest threat.
from the time he could walk (which wasn't until three years old) he'd been trapped in a cycle: clumsiness, injury, clumsiness, injury. clumsiness would inevitably lead to injury, and injury would inevitably lead to more clumsiness. he was pigeon-toed with a shuffling, wobbly gait, slow, and so, so doomed.
some injuries healed fully, while others left permanent reminders: nerve damage from a broken hand five years prior still made it impossible to hold certain things without the fear of a muscle spasm or cramp making him drop it. broken toes from three separate occasions were still slightly crooked. a herniated disk plagued him with back pain. patches of skin had grown over with dense, rough scar tissue from years of nicks with kitchen knives & burns with his cigarette lighter. knees locked up. joints stiffened & cracked. fucked.
soft braces, compression sleeves & stockings were just another article of clothing as essential as a shirt or pants. his scent carried undercurrents of peppermint from the ointments he massaged into aching muscles. each morning he woke up & each night before he slept, he stretched his entire bodyーanywhere from ten minutes to an hour, depending on the day.
however, nothing caused him more trouble than his left ankle.
it was his single worst injury—both the severity, and the memories he associated with it. there were two.
the 1st was at six. slow & clumsy, it was inevitable he was the first captive of the mobs. what exactly would happen depended on the captorーbut he learned quickly he'd be in far less pain when he didn't try to escape or resist. escape attempts got your ankle shattered. resistance got you dragged through the streets by rope.
the 2nd was at eight, running from his brother after he murdered their father. he didn't even think about it, he just started screaming and ran. he ran faster than he ever had before, with no clear direction, nor was he watching his stepsーand therein spelled disaster. lost in the woods, he tumbled. hard. he dislocated the already maluinioned bones and spent the next several hours crawling until he came upon his savior: sengoku.
years of orthopedic braces & shoes, physical therapy, and surgery has brought rosinante to a place where it was bearable (some days, even blissfully painless) to walk & run on, but the muscles still remained weak. the biggest culprit was the ankle’s lack of mobility/tendency to stiffen. it meant sometimes he couldn't quite correct his footing fast enough when a slippery or uneven surface caused a stumble, or friendly shove threw his body weight off-center. falls were common. expected. but, he can’t help it.
rosinante's body is fucked.