This is the kingdom, kingdom

̸̸̇̇̎ /̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ 

ℝ𝕆𝕊𝕀𝕋𝔸 cabin, perched at the edge of a dense forest on a small rise, felt like the last remnant of a quieter world—a world that had long since been swallowed by chaos. The trees surrounding the cabin stood like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches stretching toward the sky. Inside, the air smelled of paper, wood, and fossil dust, a scent she had come to associate with both comfort and obsession. The light from the small, flickering lamp cast long shadows across her cluttered workbench, where maps of Isla Nublar, broken dinosaur teeth, and journal entries sat in haphazard piles.

Rosita was bent over a particularly large map, tracing the migration patterns of the latest raptor sightings when a noise—something foreign—drifted through the window. A car engine. Not just any engine, but the rumble of something large and too familiar. Her brow furrowed in a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. Who would be foolish enough to navigate these rugged roads?

She straightened, adjusting the pair of reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose and stepped toward the window. A gust of wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves, and there it was again: the unmistakable sound of an engine, tires crunching over gravel.

"Great," Rosita muttered to herself, pushing the door open. "Another interruption. Can't a woman have five minutes of peace?"

Stepping outside, the cool breeze tugged at her jacket, and she squinted against the sun as a dust cloud swirled in the air. The car rolled into view, its aging tires kicking up gravel. It wasn't much, but it was enough to bring her heart rate up, just a little.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Owen Grady.

He emerged from the SUV, looking every bit the rugged, no-nonsense man she remembered, his brown eyes scanning the surrounding area like a hawk. His expression was serious, but there was something about the slight twitch of his lips that suggested it wasn't all work. Not yet anyway.

Rosita folded her arms over her chest, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she leaned against the porch railing. "Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to grace me with his presence," she called, her voice smooth with a teasing edge.

Owen glanced up, meeting her gaze, and that same crooked smile appeared. "Rosita," he said, stepping toward her, his boots crunching against the ground with each step. "Still living in your little cabin, huh? I'm surprised you haven't been buried under piles of fossilized raptor teeth or whatever you've been collecting these days."

"I like the quiet, Owen," she replied dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Unlike some people who have an unhealthy obsession with dinosaurs that leads them to a life of perpetual chaos."

He shrugged nonchalantly, clearly used to her playful jabs. "What can I say? Chaos follows me like a loyal pet."

"I can see that," she quipped, eyeing his SUV, which seemed like it had seen better days—several decades ago. "Did you get that car from a junkyard? It looks like it's about to collapse."

Owen's smile faltered for a moment. "It gets me where I need to go."

Rosita snorted, glancing back at her cabin with a roll of her eyes. "Right. If by 'where I need to go,' you mean straight into disaster, then sure. Anyway, what's up, Grady? I don't exactly get visitors, and you don't strike me as someone who's here for tea and small talk."

Owen finally let out a deep breath and looked at her seriously, his earlier playful demeanour fading into something more urgent. "I need your help," he said, his tone turning more sombre. "You've been on the islands from the beginning. You know these animals better than anyone, especially Blue. And we've got a situation that requires someone who actually understands what we're dealing with."

At the mention of Blue, Rosita's heart skipped a beat. The raptor's name brought memories flooding back, memories of the bond she'd formed with him—a connection forged through countless encounters, both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Blue had always been different from the others and so had she.

"Blue?" she asked, her voice quieter now, the weight of the request settling in. "What happened?"

Owen's expression softened, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. "He's... different. We think something's messing with his instincts, and it's affecting the whole pack. We need you to help us figure it out. Fast."

Rosita straightened, her playful demeanour slipping into a more serious one. She'd spent years studying these creatures, and Blue—well, he had a piece of her heart. There was no way she could turn down helping him. "You really think you're going to get through to him without me?" she asked, half-mocking, half-serious.

Owen shrugged with a grin, clearly grateful for her willingness. "I've seen you in action. You're the only one who might still have a chance at reaching him. Besides," he added with a chuckle, "he's got a soft spot for you. Maybe he remembers the good old days."

Rosita scoffed, shaking her head but unable to suppress a smile. "Good old days? You mean when I had to practically bribe him with food just to get him to stop eyeing me like a potential snack?" She met Owen's eyes with a raised eyebrow. "Fine. I'll help. But I swear, if I end up running from a pissed-off raptor again, you owe me more than a few drinks."

"Deal," Owen agreed, his voice lightening.

Rosita pushed herself off the railing and turned to head back into the cabin, her boots clicking against the wooden steps. "Give me a minute," she called over her shoulder. "I need to grab my gear. And maybe a few tranquilizer darts, just in case. You know, for emergencies."

Owen chuckled behind her, following her up the steps. "I think we'll be fine. It's just Blue, right?"

Rosita paused at the door and looked back at him, giving him a mock serious expression. "You really want to tempt fate like that, Owen?" she asked, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. "Blue's different from the other raptors. And neither are you, for that matter."

Owen's face softened as he leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. "Guess we'll see," he said with a shrug.

Rosita grinned, stepping into the cabin to gather her things. "Yeah, we will. But for now, no more jokes. I've got a raptor to save."

As she disappeared into the shadows of the cabin, Owen stood on the porch, his mind racing with the unknown. They were about to face something bigger than they'd ever encountered before, but with Rosita's expertise, maybe—just maybe—they could find a way to bring Blue back.

𓆌

The sun hung low in the sky, a soft golden hue spilling across the horizon as it painted the world in strokes of peach and lavender. It was the kind of sunrise that whispered promises of new beginnings, its gentle light stretching over the earth like a warm embrace. Claire stood by the edge of the tarmac, her gaze fixed on the distant stretch of road, waiting, hoping, for the arrival of Owen and Rosita. The air was crisp, the breeze cool against her skin, but her thoughts were miles away, drawn to the memories of the island—of everything that had been, and everything that could still be.

Zia, her co-worker, stood beside her, casually chatting with Franklin as they prepared their belongings for the plane. Their voices rose and fell, filling the space with a rhythmic, comforting hum. Zia's laughter broke the silence between them. "Relax. You're more likely to die riding a horse than in a plane," she said, tossing a bag into the trolley with ease.

"No, I'm not," Franklin replied, shaking his head fervently, "Cause I won't get on a horse. My chances are zero." His voice was high-pitched, almost comically so, and Zia responded with a teasing smile.

"Planes are the safest way to travel," she declared, her words a half-joke but with a tone of certainty.

As the two bickered, Claire's eyes wandered, her gaze still anchored on the road as she searched for a sign, a vehicle, anything. It wasn't long before the distant rumble of an engine reached her ears. Her heart picked up, and she felt a small thrill as she saw the familiar SUV crested over the rise, dust trailing behind it like a cloud of memories.

The vehicle pulled to a halt, and Owen emerged, stretching his back in that same way he always did, as if the world weighed a little less when he moved. Rosita followed, her face flushed from sleep, rubbing her eyes as she blinked up at the morning sun. The sight of them both—alive, breathing, here—was a balm to Claire's weary soul. She hadn't realized how much she had missed them until this very moment.

"Owen! Rosita!" Claire exclaimed, the joy in her voice clear as she looked at them, her heart lifting.

Owen let out a soft groan as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, his lips curling into that half-smile that always seemed to tease and comfort in the same breath. "Didn't think you were ever going to show up," he said, his voice still thick with the remnants of sleep.

Rosita's smile, warm and genuine, spread across her face as she looked at Claire. "Like we're going to let you have all the fun," she said, the teasing note in her voice as sweet as ever.

Claire chuckled, her heart light. "Oh, um, this is Zia Rodriguez," she introduced, gesturing toward her new companion.

Owen stood as much as he could in the tight quarters of the small space, stretching his legs before he offered his hand to Zia with a polite but somewhat amused grin. "Owen Grady," he said, shaking her hand firmly before moving to sit in the seat in front of Franklin, who looked like he might faint at any moment from the nerves curling in his gut.

Rosita smiled at Zia as she took her place in the back of the plane. Claire followed with an introduction of Franklin, who had already latched onto his seatbelt with a sense of urgency, clutching his bag as though it were a lifeline. "Franklin Webb. Systems analyst," he said quickly, his voice trembling slightly.

"Systems analyst, huh?" Owen said with a raised eyebrow, his gaze turning toward Franklin with interest before he glanced back at Rosita with a smirk. "Nervous flyer?" he asked, though the question was clearly more teasing than serious.

Franklin fidgeted, his eyes wide as he met Owen's gaze. "Would you ride a thousand-pound horse that's been abused all its life?" he shot back, his voice almost defensive, a touch of panic seeping into his words.

Owen's grin widened. "Rosita and I rode motorcycles through the jungle with a pack of raptors," he replied matter-of-factly, as though it was the most casual thing in the world.

Franklin blinked at him, his mouth opening and closing in surprise, before he muttered, "We're not compatible." His hands clutched the armrest like it was his last anchor to sanity.

Rosita couldn't help but chuckle softly, her head tilting slightly as she watched Franklin. She leaned back in her seat, watching the world outside the window, her mind wandering, even as the soft noise of their conversation hummed around her. Her fingers brushed against her phone in her lap, and without thinking, she unlocked it, her eyes flicking down to the photo on her screen.

It was a picture of Blue—his human form, just as she remembered him. The sun had been setting then too, casting an amber glow that seemed to weave itself through his hair, catching the light in a way that made him look almost ethereal. Rosita smiled softly at the image, the connection between them still palpable, despite the time that had passed. It had been so long since Jurassic World, so long since everything had changed in a blink, and yet here she was, still holding onto the fragments of the past—of Blue.

Her gaze lifted from the photo to the window, her eyes catching the first glimmer of daylight as the plane began its ascent into the sky. Below, the world spread out like a tapestry, the earth folding in on itself as they rose higher. The clouds danced around the plane, brushing the windows like whispered secrets. And as Rosita's thoughts drifted back to Blue, back to the island, she couldn't help but wonder if the sun, in all its infinite beauty, was finally rising on something new—for them, for Blue, and for the world they all shared.

She tucked the phone away, feeling the weight of the sky outside pressing in as the plane soared through the clouds, carrying them toward whatever would come next.

 /̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ 

By: SilverMist707

I hope you enjoy the story and this movie is going to break me, in one particular scene. :,)