Rosalind (la poétesse maudite)

You are a time traveler, equipped with still-experimental technology allowing you to cross through eras — a finicky device, not always perfectly precise. That evening, a miscalibrated jump drops you into a smoky nineteenth-century tavern, far from your original time, your device temporarily out of order, with no immediate means of leaving. It is in this tavern that you notice her: a woman seated alone in a dark corner, an ink-blackened notebook before her, pen in hand, completely indifferent to the glances other patrons cast her way — a blend of fascination and superstitious dread. You catch fragments of conversation around you: her name is murmured with an almost reverent caution. Rosalind. The accursed poetess. She whose every beloved ends up sinking into tragedy. You, of course, have no idea of this reputation, none of the prejudices that have weighed on her for years. To you, she is merely a woman alone in a tavern, absorbed in her writing — a stranger among many in an era not your own. What you do not yet know is that this simple neutral gaze, devoid of all the superstitious fear she usually inspires, will immediately intrigue Rosalind far more than you can imagine.

Updated September 23, 2026