An Outfit Changed, An Identity Reclaimed.

[mamadonna]

Characters: The Dolorosa and YOU!
Setting: 15th floor, the workshop
Format: Basically whatever, if you want to do chocolate things drop a note here!
Summary: Dolorosa is working with some textiles when she gets interrupted?
Warnings: Possible violence and chocolate plot business.

[ Dolorosa had been working on this dress for a couple weeks now, collecting what scraps she could that fit her needs, but they weren't always easy to come by. It was the veiled cape that had been the most difficult, but she'd finally found the right material, and had gotten the dye to properly take.

It was almost finished, and soon she would't have to continue wearing this silly jumpsuit any longer. It only needed one last addition: her sign. It had been sweeps since she'd last worn it, or even been allowed to see it, but she ever forgot its shape, and so making the thread follow her whims until it took form was accomplished without mistake, and only the slightest pause.

It was a form of therapy, this dress. A reclamation of her identity. Within the hour, once properly garbed, she would once again be fully herself. ]

Comments

[restitchtime]

[in all fairness, Rose has some very potent anger at her disposal. she grins a little, expression proud and triumphant.]

And I find that nine times out of ten people who think my speech is shitty take that little jump down the road to assuming I'm an idiot. I'd rather nip it in the bud, even if it means being wrong every now and then.

[mamadonna]

[ Doloorosa just ends up feeling disappointed and a little exhausted by this defeat. Standing so long without her staff is beginning to wear on her legs, but she fears it would be impolite to break from the conversation to sit. ]

And what response do you generally offer the tenth, assuming you have yet encountered one previously?

[restitchtime]

[she folds her arms, quite pleased with this whole conversation]

That depends entirely on what kind of person they are. If they're still a douche I'll chew them out just the same.

[mamadonna]

[ She quirks an eyebrow. ]

And where, exactly, do I fall along that spectrum?

[restitchtime]

That'd be telling. Why should I ruin all the fun and let you know what I think of you?

[mamadonna]

Because I fear it to be terribly negative at this point.

[restitchtime]

Oh no, God forbid that somebody in paradox space doesn't like you. I really hope that isn't the case, otherwise this entire tower might collapse from the tragedy.

[mamadonna]

Nothing so dramatic, I simply would prefer to remain in your good graces. You're a rather intelligent young woman, Rose, I would appreciate a continued correspondence with you.

[restitchtime]

Just because I may or may not like you doesn't mean you can't keep talking with me. Lord knows that it's never stopped any of the other assholes.

[seriously. how many times does she have to say no before they get it?]

[mamadonna]

Perhaps, but I'd generally hope not to impose my presence where it isn't desired, unless I thought it necessary to do so.

[restitchtime]

Nobody else cares, so you might as well ignore it too. This shit's character building for me or something.

[mamadonna]

That certainly doesn't sound promising, in at least the consideration of the short term effects it must have on your mood.

[restitchtime]

Paradox space likes to constantly kick me in the ribs, there's nothing new about that. People piling on top of all that can't really make it any worse than it already is.

[mamadonna]

If you insist, but it may be work taking considerations for, in order that I don't compound upon it. I apologize for fussing earlier.

[restitchtime]

[she tsks a little] It's fine, although I doubt that'll stop you from doing it later on anyway. But if saying sorry makes you feel better I won't get in your way.

[mamadonna]

Well, the apology is hardly meant for my own sole benefit.

[restitchtime]

That's what it ends up being anyway. The fuck do I care if you're sorry or not? It doesn't affect my life.

[mamadonna]

Well, I suppose that's one mood to approach it with. Not an especially kind one, but undeniably a mood, nonetheless.

[restitchtime]

There really isn't much about me that anybody would call kind, so I'm just running with the theme. It definitely makes huge clusterfucks easier to deal with, I can tell you that.

[mamadonna]

You are insinuating, then, that you elected to surrender to these suggestions as to your reputation, rather tha continuing in spite of them? While The rumors are unfortunate to begin with, one shouldn't allow them such a victory!

[restitchtime]

Suggestions? That's just the truth, I'm not giving anybody a victory by being unpleasant. The shit you could probably call rumors would be a lot fucking worse.

[mamadonna]

Ah, the mention of "running with the theme" led me to infer incorrectly, then.

The rumors must be deeply unfortunate, in any case.

[restitchtime]

Pretty much, but they're as shitty as the people spreading them so it doesn't bother me too much. If they want to look like moronic windbags it's not my problem.

[mamadonna]

Well, I suppose it's preferable if the sources aren't generally given credence. You're lucky if the barbs fail to catch, in their attempts to tear into you.

[restitchtime]

Please, that would be giving worthless fuckfaces way too much satisfaction. I'm not about to get all weepy for something as petty as that.