watch how our star behaves // we’ll all roll in our gravesworksmartSeptember 21 2009, 05:59:02 UTC
To one Doctor Robert Chase, all hours have begun to seem like late ones. He's been running on a sleep deficit for several days now, not an uncommon situation in his line of work, but not an aspect of it he'd ever profess to enjoy. Chase likes sleep. Life has few simple pleasures, but the simple restorative properties of passing out with his head on his own pillow ranks highly among them.
And that's where he's headed now, with most of the last ward on his rounds either asleep or comfortably dosed up. The hospital is quiet save for a few stragglers dozing fitfully in the waiting rooms.
Oh, and that couple recently escaped from a penal colony and rounding his door with noisy irritation in all too carrying voices. He stops, and studies them a moment. She, beautiful enough to almost glow with it, not that this is as rare a quality in this city as it might have been elsewhere. He looking like he's escaped the local amateur dramatics troupe, and still talking loudly enough to be heard at the back of the auditorium.
Interesting. He'll have to ask someone what they wanted, in the morning. Right now, the plan is to duck his head as low as possible, tuck in that neat white coat, and walk straight past.
watch how our star behaves // we’ll all roll in our gravesshiningdownSeptember 21 2009, 13:44:18 UTC
The week has been trying.
Understatement of the century, perhaps two centuries. She doesn't keep specific count anymore, but this incident has her thinking perhaps she will once properly back in her beloved sky. At the present her thoughts keep themselves far from track of time and closer to all the new and rotten things she can call Tristan Thorn other than his actual name, which isn't rotten at all, and she thinks that's just deceptive. She pities the person who sees his name on paper and thinks him a civilized creature. No doubt every meeting he's ever had has rendered this misconception groundless. Sighing as she hobbles along behind He of Awkward Haircut and Great Affection for Her Worship Victoria who was Impressed by the Idea of a Ring from Ipswitch, she makes it a point to burn holes into his back as well. It doesn't work out quite nearly so well in reality as it does in her head and she blames stuffy human walls for it. By walls she doesn't so much mean concrete slabs as what it is to have one's feelings and thoughts all clustered into her like there's nowhere else to put them. It wasn't the same before she fell, but nothing has been. She shouldn't be surprised.
...
How dare he accuse her of making things difficult.
There is a word for this feeling.
Loathing is close but not quite scathing enough.
Ah well. It will come to her, as it isn't as though they don't have time. Almost, she laughs.
Then he says something else she only half hears, but it sounds insulting enough that she opens her mouth to respond. Said coxcomb has, it would seem, an incessant bad habit of being Absolutely Insufferable, and it is her every plan to say as much, but the tug on the curious silver chain does its inadvertent job of making her stagger.
If she happens to be thrown off what little balance she has and right into the path of a certain doctor trying to keep his profile low and his exit quick, well, that's just the way of things isn't it?
watch how our star behaves // we’ll all roll in our gravesgazingupSeptember 22 2009, 02:37:43 UTC
Tristan may have been the mold for the original idiot, but it was far from his intention to cause the star to trip. It was a simple miscalculation of strength - a gesture gone awry, though such miscalculations were ones that usually resulted in black eyes and bruises. (Humphrey hadn't be lying when commenting on Tristan's nonexistent fencing prowess)
At least this meant that Loud One #1 and Loud One #2 could see the doctor faster. Why check in at the front desk when you could bump into the doctor instead? Far more efficient.
"That was not my fault. I- I didn't pull you that hard, Yvaine."
He was raised to be a gentleman, and Tristan was for the most part, minus certain instances in which expediency must be placed before propriety. Mostly in matters concerning a certain star and Victoria's hand in marriage. However, there was no reason not to help Yvaine up this time, especially when someone else was watching. So he extends a hand to her, raising an eyebrow as if completely oblivious of his fault.
watch how our star behaves // we’ll all roll in our gravesworksmartSeptember 24 2009, 22:16:45 UTC
Chase would dearly love to be at home, in bed, nursing a microwaved bowl of his roommate's pasta before catching up on those hours of sleep he misplaced somewhere over the course of the week.
However.
If there's one thing almost guaranteed to distract him from that cause, it's a woman (and a beautiful woman, as aforementioned, but then half the girls in the city are) falling at his feet. Quite literally. He has to skid and stumble back on the slippy floor to avoid treading on something soft, and ends up crouching at her side as Tristan reaches down his hand.
There's no overlooking the chain now. Doctors have a term for this variety of injury, written in capitals at the top of charts so the shift replacement can steel himself not to laugh on entering the room. This, he suspects, is going to be a S.A.R.A. Sexual activity related accident.
He reaches out his own hand to one delicate shoulder, "No, stay there," and looks up to the aggressor. "Maybe you shouldn't have been pulling her at all. Does anyone want to explain what's going on before I make a call to check whether those cuffs are police standard issue?"
watch how our star behaves // we’ll all roll in our gravesshiningdownSeptember 24 2009, 22:34:26 UTC
The fall itself isn't all that hard or far, but falling onto a broken leg at all is less than pleasant, anyone might agree. Her pride provides enough of a mask over the initial sharpness of breath and watering of eyes that blink back to something sterner. Not for the first time, she wonders if the insufferable Tristan Thorn works at how impossible he happens to be. Didn't pull that hard? She could slaughter him. Well, no she couldn't likely, but the thought passes through her mind even as she eyes the proffered assistance.
Ignoring him has become only divided between that and insulting him as much as possible, so refusing the offered hand is all too natural a thing, almost as natural as the glare she sends his way, which says the same thing the doctor does with less words and more mental ill-wishing. The fact that the doctor avoids stepping on her is appreciated, but she can't help who, or rather what she is, and when he reaches a hand out she shies back. This refusal has nothing to do with ignoring and everything to do with still not being accustomed to physical contact at all, however harmless. Staring up, her brow furrows and she tilts her head, focusing on this man's face rather than how her leg seems both to be numb yet burning at the same time. The resemblance between this one and the Peri has her scrutiny last a little longer, but she having spent most of her life doing nothing but watching can tell without asking. They are not the same.
"...I don't understand," she says, plain as day or so the saying goes, less fitting for a star but there you have it. Biting her lower lip, she glances to one side, letting her hair fall as a pale guard, a temporary shield while she sorts her thoughts. She left this place once before, the machinery having frightened her though she would not admit it, and all of the people having been too much, too many, too everything.
watch how our star behaves // we’ll all roll in our gravesgazingupSeptember 28 2009, 23:53:33 UTC
"I- I- " he replies, tongue tripping over his words as any measure of thought in that (not really) dense head of his shudders to a halt. He doesn't understand why the type of chain matters-- Police standard issue or whatever standard he called it. However, he would be deaf not to note the suspicion set in Chase's voice, or for that matter, how shady this entire situation must have seemed. He was dragging a woman, an admittedly beautiful woman no less (not that Tristan would ever admit it) by a chain, while carrying himself rather flippantly. As if oblivious to the fact that he was abusing an injured woman, even if she was in fact a star.
Not that he hadn't realized this all along.
Common Sense, Rationality, and Compassion were all victims of Victoria's affections. Or at least when they lay in the way of Tristan's quest for the Gilded Goddess of Wall and her hand in marriage. Nevertheless, the doctor wouldn't understand that. No one would understand his love unless he could somehow transfer that ineffable something to the hearts of others. All that was left was to somehow twist the story to his benefit. And it was still the truth, even if the words were folded in on each other.
"She's not a woman- She's not a woman, she's a star," he stutters, timing a pause for the information to sink in. "I told her I'd put her back up in the sky. And I- And I had to time her up, otherwise she'd probably run off and get herself hurt."
There's an apprehensive look on his face as he finishes, lips pursed and eyes wide to perhaps emphasize a look of innocence.
And that's where he's headed now, with most of the last ward on his rounds either asleep or comfortably dosed up. The hospital is quiet save for a few stragglers dozing fitfully in the waiting rooms.
Oh, and that couple recently escaped from a penal colony and rounding his door with noisy irritation in all too carrying voices. He stops, and studies them a moment. She, beautiful enough to almost glow with it, not that this is as rare a quality in this city as it might have been elsewhere. He looking like he's escaped the local amateur dramatics troupe, and still talking loudly enough to be heard at the back of the auditorium.
Interesting. He'll have to ask someone what they wanted, in the morning. Right now, the plan is to duck his head as low as possible, tuck in that neat white coat, and walk straight past.
Reply
Understatement of the century, perhaps two centuries. She doesn't keep specific count anymore, but this incident has her thinking perhaps she will once properly back in her beloved sky. At the present her thoughts keep themselves far from track of time and closer to all the new and rotten things she can call Tristan Thorn other than his actual name, which isn't rotten at all, and she thinks that's just deceptive. She pities the person who sees his name on paper and thinks him a civilized creature. No doubt every meeting he's ever had has rendered this misconception groundless. Sighing as she hobbles along behind He of Awkward Haircut and Great Affection for Her Worship Victoria who was Impressed by the Idea of a Ring from Ipswitch, she makes it a point to burn holes into his back as well. It doesn't work out quite nearly so well in reality as it does in her head and she blames stuffy human walls for it. By walls she doesn't so much mean concrete slabs as what it is to have one's feelings and thoughts all clustered into her like there's nowhere else to put them. It wasn't the same before she fell, but nothing has been. She shouldn't be surprised.
...
How dare he accuse her of making things difficult.
There is a word for this feeling.
Loathing is close but not quite scathing enough.
Ah well. It will come to her, as it isn't as though they don't have time. Almost, she laughs.
Then he says something else she only half hears, but it sounds insulting enough that she opens her mouth to respond. Said coxcomb has, it would seem, an incessant bad habit of being Absolutely Insufferable, and it is her every plan to say as much, but the tug on the curious silver chain does its inadvertent job of making her stagger.
If she happens to be thrown off what little balance she has and right into the path of a certain doctor trying to keep his profile low and his exit quick, well, that's just the way of things isn't it?
By the way, this is all Tristan's fault.
Reply
At least this meant that Loud One #1 and Loud One #2 could see the doctor faster. Why check in at the front desk when you could bump into the doctor instead? Far more efficient.
"That was not my fault. I- I didn't pull you that hard, Yvaine."
He was raised to be a gentleman, and Tristan was for the most part, minus certain instances in which expediency must be placed before propriety. Mostly in matters concerning a certain star and Victoria's hand in marriage. However, there was no reason not to help Yvaine up this time, especially when someone else was watching. So he extends a hand to her, raising an eyebrow as if completely oblivious of his fault.
Reply
However.
If there's one thing almost guaranteed to distract him from that cause, it's a woman (and a beautiful woman, as aforementioned, but then half the girls in the city are) falling at his feet. Quite literally. He has to skid and stumble back on the slippy floor to avoid treading on something soft, and ends up crouching at her side as Tristan reaches down his hand.
There's no overlooking the chain now. Doctors have a term for this variety of injury, written in capitals at the top of charts so the shift replacement can steel himself not to laugh on entering the room. This, he suspects, is going to be a S.A.R.A. Sexual activity related accident.
He reaches out his own hand to one delicate shoulder, "No, stay there," and looks up to the aggressor. "Maybe you shouldn't have been pulling her at all. Does anyone want to explain what's going on before I make a call to check whether those cuffs are police standard issue?"
Reply
Ignoring him has become only divided between that and insulting him as much as possible, so refusing the offered hand is all too natural a thing, almost as natural as the glare she sends his way, which says the same thing the doctor does with less words and more mental ill-wishing. The fact that the doctor avoids stepping on her is appreciated, but she can't help who, or rather what she is, and when he reaches a hand out she shies back. This refusal has nothing to do with ignoring and everything to do with still not being accustomed to physical contact at all, however harmless. Staring up, her brow furrows and she tilts her head, focusing on this man's face rather than how her leg seems both to be numb yet burning at the same time. The resemblance between this one and the Peri has her scrutiny last a little longer, but she having spent most of her life doing nothing but watching can tell without asking. They are not the same.
"...I don't understand," she says, plain as day or so the saying goes, less fitting for a star but there you have it. Biting her lower lip, she glances to one side, letting her hair fall as a pale guard, a temporary shield while she sorts her thoughts. She left this place once before, the machinery having frightened her though she would not admit it, and all of the people having been too much, too many, too everything.
Reply
Not that he hadn't realized this all along.
Common Sense, Rationality, and Compassion were all victims of Victoria's affections. Or at least when they lay in the way of Tristan's quest for the Gilded Goddess of Wall and her hand in marriage. Nevertheless, the doctor wouldn't understand that. No one would understand his love unless he could somehow transfer that ineffable something to the hearts of others. All that was left was to somehow twist the story to his benefit. And it was still the truth, even if the words were folded in on each other.
"She's not a woman- She's not a woman, she's a star," he stutters, timing a pause for the information to sink in. "I told her I'd put her back up in the sky. And I- And I had to time her up, otherwise she'd probably run off and get herself hurt."
There's an apprehensive look on his face as he finishes, lips pursed and eyes wide to perhaps emphasize a look of innocence.
"I didn't do it just to be cruel."
Reply
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