milliways_bar | (no subject)

It's unusual, really, to see the star much of anywhere on her own.

But she's there all the same - curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire with her legs over the armrest and a long white jacket slung over her lap. There's a neat slice on the side of one coatsleeve and a larger hole in the shoulder - and the fine, white string she's attempting to wrangle has stubbornly wound its way down her arm and doesn't seem particularly inclined to cooperate with any amount of frustrated glaring.

She's terrible at this. (Which, truthfully, is most of the motivation for not attempting it upstairs - where certain people could wake up and see.)

She's terrible at it, but that doesn't seem to make her particularly inclined to give up. She continues on, frowning stubbornly, curses soft and mumbled against bleeding fingers and messily tended material.

Interruption would be a blessing. Unless you happen to be a very angry sewing needle offended by the sort of language your tiny, prickly child might be picking up, mind you.

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"I'm not so sure. I'm a psychiatrist."

"That sounds," she blinks. "Dangerous - or overly complicated."

She's not precisely certain which one.

"I'd go with 'overly complicated', although it mostly depends on the patient."

"It is something like doctors then?"

She gestures vaguely back at the coat.

"Though with less sewing people back up?"

"Yeah - my official title is 'doctor', but it, eh. I got used to it after a bit. And fortunately for me, it involving no physical sewing whatsoever. Psychiatrists are doctors of the mind, if that doesn't sound too weird."

"Oh, no. It makes fine sense," she nods in consideration. "I will admit to seeing many rather sick minds."

If only Madolyn knew what sorts of shenanigans people in Stormhold got up to. It'd be a psychiatrist's field day.

"That's good, then. Everyone needs to talk now and then, you know?"

She'd have more than enough customers. The fancy sort that pay with gold - or newt eyes.

"It is a preferable alternative to removing people's organs."

It really is!

Madolyn wouldn't have a clue what to do with newt eyes. Except maybe sell them to people who did.

"Definitely."

"Most people are rather fond of them remaining inside of their bodies."

She grins, lips quirking.

"They're funny like that."

"Mm. And I'm willing to bet the organs prefer the inside of the body as opposed to the outside."

A laugh.

"They do if they know what is good for them."

"Agreed."

Madolyn grins, glancing down at the fabric. Progress is being achieved.

Slowly, slowly.

The star certainly looks far more cheerful - edges of her glittering mildly and very likely in possession of many more band-aids than are strictly necessary.

Though, really, they come in colors

"Things like hearts should only be freely given."

(OOC: Sorry about any slowness. LJ seems to have decided that it doesn't want to send me my email notifications. *eyes it*)

Bandaids are teh cool.

"I'd have to agree with that."

Yvaine looks lovely, really. The glowing isn't something Madolyn's used to seeing, but as opposed to being incredibly odd and strange it has a bit of a calming effect.

[ ooc; S'okay. LJ sends me too many. xD ]

Same thing goes for kidneys, really.

Black market organs are kind of sketchy in a great big way.

Cheerfully, "Though I have discovered that mine are something of a delicacy."

Madolyn looks up sharply, an extremely concerned expression on her face.

"Oh. I'm sorry for that."

At least someone's happy about it.

"It is not mine anymore," she shrugs. "So there isn't much left to worry about."

People cannot remove things that aren't there in the first place.

That's a beautiful way to put it.

"Well, I'm glad you're out of danger, then."

She grins brightly in return.

"I'm sure we'll be able to find other sorts," she replies. "Or else I'll stick to stabbing myself during clothing repairs."

"I hope neither results in overly harmful injuries."

"Very agreed," she nods sagely. "They do tend to lose their mysterious appeal after a while."

"To say the least."

The needle begs to differ, and continues to prick.

Yvaine's fairly certain that the needle is possessed by some malevolent spirit.

She leans forward again.

"What is the world like when you are?" she grins. "I have seen it change before, but I am pretty sure that is still a while for me."

Even now, the needle is laughing and mocking their collective incompetence.

"I think you'd find it a shock how much things have changed. No one travels by horse or carriage any more, for instance, and women have a much more prominent position in society. And there's no magic."

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