Action, 1490 Kramden Road, earlyish:
[ Ilsa snuggles in her sleep. Sleeping late after a great party counted as two luxuries she’d done without for years, and the capper was the party was to celebrate getting her medical degree. ]
[ No hangover, she’d been content to play Stump The DJ and mix drinks for everyone else at the bash. Of course, it
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I-I... Thank you, er... Your highness? Would you like to come in?
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You have no idea how long it's been since anyone I actually wanted to impress acted impressed by that! It was a rather big deal as a child, but since then...
I assure you, I don't demand very much groveling as a common thing. Only from the odd armed enemy, and then usually only when the armed enemy is in my castle acting as through the roles are reversed.
[So dry he makes the Sahara look like a rain forest.]
Somehow I doubt that's going to matter, here. No castle, no caste, and, to judge from a few comments I've already received, exiled royalty is already spread rather thick on the ground in Mayfield.
"Tarvek" will do just fine. [Mischief flashes, and eyelashes flutter just a bit.] We can discuss nicknames later, when we've gotten more intimate. [An eyebrow arches, and he's grinning and waiting for you to scold him...ideally you will scold him kindly. Right now it's just social flirtation, you see....]
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[ Ilsa gives him a slight eyebrow lift and smile at the mention of later intimacy, and holds out her hand to shake. ]
Ilsa, then. Madame Higa is my mother, and I was still getting used to being called Doctor when I went to bed last night.
[ She gestures towards the kitchen ]
Would you like to come in for coffee?
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[He gestures to the mimeos.]
I'm afraid they're of only limited use. The one from Mr. Rose is apparently common, but there's also a pamphlet from a Captain Loken, who has been quite gracious, and a map from Princess-Captain Hoshino.
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[ Leading him to the kitchen ]
I'd offer you cream, but the pamphlet says not to drink the milk. Sugar?
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[Oh, the puppy-dog eyes!]
[Valiant boy is valiant.]
Sugar will be superb, Mada-- er,Ilsa. I have the sense we come from very different worlds. Where I come from scholarship is a matter of who you know, more than of paperwork and bureaucracy. Know the right noble or a ranking spark, or have the ear of a university administrator, and much can be done for you. Lacking that? Very little.
Is psychiatry that talking-cure thing that medical Spark in Vienna has been talking about? The one that involves strapping your patient to a properly padded slab and encouraging frank speech with high voltage?
Hmm. Assuming your world has a Vienna, a Freud, and frank speech....I'm sure slabs and high voltage can be taken as universals...
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Nnnoo... well, shock treatments were used in the era this town depicts... but we only cover it as a historical aspect, and as for physical restraints, that's only in cases where the patient is a danger to themselves and others... chemical restraints usually work better.
[ She shakes her head, pouring the coffee and adding sugar to his mug. ]
We have a Vienna, and a Freud, and I suppose frank speech, so there are parallels.
As far as academics goes, who you know is not as important as what you know, and can you pay. Pass the entrance exams and pay the fees, you're in. Or, in my case, agree to work in a clinic in a low-income area after passing the boards, and get sponsors to pay your fees.
[ She hands him his mug and sits at the kitchen table, focusing on the paperwork ]
So, Mr Rose's pamphlet was in the morning mail, but these others are new to me.
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Your world definitely seems to have parallels to mine, but I suspect that you're on both a different track, and forward in time. I've met several people on the phone who simply would not exist in my world, even in the future.
But you seem to be on a very similar track to this "Mayfield," though, if your comments about "historical aspects" and "The era this town depicts" mean what I think they mean.
[He coils himself into a kitchen chair, and picks up his coffee mug.] Good. Better than I can make certainly.
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It's like... looking at a show from my grandparents' time, only it is reflected in a warped mirror.
[ Her voice has a slightly distracted tone for the next bit ]
Mm, some of the street names are familiar, but not all of them. The layout is a simple grid, with little imagination, and not a lot of allowances made for nature.
[ She looks up at him, with an intense gaze ]
Are these your only copies?
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[He shrugs, and looks a little forlorn.]
I'm afraid it's second nature -- and possibly actually bred in the bone. I'm afraid my family tends toward the Byzantine. One doesn't survive without a lot of forethought and planning.
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{*!*}
[ Then she suddenly winces and drops her gaze ]
Ng.
Oh, forethought and planning counts for a lot, even without relatives that gleefully leave you holding the bag.
[ She's back to studying the map, absently rubbing her temple ]
D'ye know where the rec center might be?
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There, I think. But we can always ask directions.
[Yes, he is that unheard of subspecies of male who asks directions: does research, investigates options, gathers data. He's all into the homework aspect of planning, he is, he is...]
[His glance flickers to you, and he scowls harder, this time in concern.]
Are you all right?
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Just a twinge.
Trying to see something without eyes...
[ She stares into her coffee-cup. Her next words are quiet, hesitant. ]
You mentioned on the telephone that you were "head-blind". What... what sort of things were you able to do, before?
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[ She's let down her guard, and you might see more pain reactions ]
You were... burying a memory, I think, and I was... trying to help blunt the edge of it.
[ Ilsa sighs and shrugs ]
I'm not supposed to show the talent to those who aren't burdened with it, or something similar. But that ability is gone.
[ She makes a complex gesture in the air in front of her, and a heartbeat later, sighs again. ]
All of them are gone.
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