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]

Annoyance has a better chance of someone actually fucking doing something to fix the problem. Discomfort is a bunch of side-eying and passive aggressive comments.

[mamadonna]

Is that because annoyance is so dire as to call for an immediate solution, or that discomfort is otherwise insurmountable?

[restitchtime]

People ignore discomfort as long as they possibly can. They're not as patient when something's bugging them.

[mamadonna]

And you wouldn't see it proper to take so passive a response to a presented difficulty.

[restitchtime]

It doesn't do shit except let things get worse.

[mamadonna]

If the correction necessary must be made of the other party, I could see the benefit of addressing it. Otherwise, it may perhaps require some redefinition of your own.

[restitchtime]

That's still not passive shit.

[mamadonna]

Though the personal response may appear so to an outside observer.

[restitchtime]

Only if they're dumb as a bag of rocks and don't know what to look for.

[mamadonna]

I shouldn't necessarily consider it their fault, the indications can take time to display themselves at any level within notice.

[restitchtime]

People are easy to read. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure them out.

[mamadonna]

Not always so immediately. When one is in the process of a transition, the results will not be visible until they have taken root.

[restitchtime]

If you know what you're looking for it's not hard to catch. But maybe I'm just assuming too much of everyone else again in terms of competency.

[mamadonna]

It may be a bit much to assume they would all know to look to begin with. Some struggles seek to remain private, despite the intuition we may practice against them.

[restitchtime]

The more they try to keep it down the more it bubbles up. People are shit at keeping secrets, especially their own.

[mamadonna]

And this would likewise apply to yourself, then?

[restitchtime]

Nah. One of the only useful things my bro taught me was how to lockdown on the important shit.

[mamadonna]

An, of course, no one else could possibly have studies similar techniques?

[restitchtime]

They could try, but you're never going to be able to beat a Strider in a pokerface contest. We're the best there is.

[mamadonna]

And Rose Strider the champion among them.

[restitchtime]

I wish. My bro's too much of an inscrutable asshole for even me to get close to. [she doesn't sound particularly proud of him, though]

[mamadonna]

Was it difficult, having so taciturn a guardian? My own had her quainter habits, but wasn't without her affections. I suppose that was the template which I've attempted to myself follow.

[ Though she isn't nearly as fond of burrowing, luckily. ]

[restitchtime]

Difficult? Please. He was a fucking disaster in every sense of the word who had absolutely no business taking care of a kid. I'm surprised that I've still got all my limbs intact after that catastrophe that counts as my childhood.

[LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY GUARDIAN ISSUES]

[mamadonna]

[ Welp, she got someone who's down for listening at least. ]

That is unfortunate to hear. Being assigned an incompatible guardian must have presented quite a hindrance to be overcome in your earlier years.

The results don't seem to have, hmm, withheld you from developing into too horrid a person, at least. [ Said more out of politeness than with full confidence. ]

[restitchtime]

That's because it was pretty simple to keep from being a complete waste of oxygen - anything he did I stayed the fuck away from.

[she shrugs a little] Surprised I didn't drop dead before I was tall enough to reach the oven and get my own food, though. That was a pretty shitty time.