[ Embarrassing. She isn't a child, she isn't a juggler, and she knows better than to try spinning blades around that way. And she cares—intensely, almost as if she were fifteen again—that Sidony not think she's stupid. ]
It was stupid.
[ Nailed it.
But at least she's saying so herself, instead of trying to pretend otherwise. She peels back the cloth clamped to her arm just enough to peek under it herself, then smiles, and resolves to not get any blood at all on that dress, because she likes it. ]
It does not seem that bad, but I thought I should ask an expert.
It is better to come to someone who can make sure no infection arrises, yes.
[ Her eyes flick to Osana's face and she hesitates for only a moment before she reaches out to look at the wound, tilting her head one way and then another before she settles on a smile.
Easy enough to manage, far less tiresome than the last time someone wandered in looking for stitches. ]
I have a poultice we can put on it and then I shall bandage it, to make sure the air doesn't make it worse. I doubt it shall even scar.
[ It wouldn't be her first scar, or her worst, but that doesn't mean she wants to be covered in them—and it's impressive, too. She's never known anyone who could keep even a scraped knee from scarring. And Sidony is—
Well.
Osana looks around the room for somewhere to sit, and wonders if she ought to sit, when Sidony is a lady as well as a surgeon, and decides she should. Probably. Definitely. Sitting it is. ]
[ Sidony is vain enough to recognise how offensive she would find a scar personally - she doesn't think about the marks on her fingers from the Battle and the burning she was given there - so she does her best for this lovely woman now. Osana does not deserve to be marred with scarring, even if it might make her look dashing.
That is unimportant, clearly, so Sidony nods, motioning at a stool and making herself a little more comfortable, making sure hair isn't in her face. ]
Surgery? [ She hums, absently. ] I enjoyed watching the Mortalitasi work when I was very young. I wished to be like them, but I was bereft of magic, so I turned to the study of the living instead.
[ Bereft feels like a funny choice of word. Like magic is something to wish you had instead of something to be relieved has left you alone. But Osana doesn’t want to start an argument. She wants to— ]
Was it hard to be taken seriously? When I wanted to fight, they said I was too pretty. [ Is that bragging? Maybe. But she says it simply and without much care, because it wasn’t as if it was a compliment at the time, and really it’s just a set-up for the next part: ] You must have had to deal with that sort of thing twice as often.
[ There’s no eyebrow wiggling, but her smile is entirely self-aware. ]
[ It's clear from the slight pinch in her nose and the tug of a frown on her lips that she's somewhat on edge about her lack of magic, but it's not something that she's being asked about. She can forgive it, and be thankful for Osana's discretion. ]
Fight, hm? [ Her eyes flick up, hair falling almost deliberately over her shoulder to settle against her neck. It's not bragging if it isn't true.
But, oh. There's a moment where she falters, but it's a bare second before her smile is in place. ]
Too pretty and too intelligent for most men, I'm afraid you are right.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Embarrassing. She isn't a child, she isn't a juggler, and she knows better than to try spinning blades around that way. And she cares—intensely, almost as if she were fifteen again—that Sidony not think she's stupid. ]
It was stupid.
[ Nailed it.
But at least she's saying so herself, instead of trying to pretend otherwise. She peels back the cloth clamped to her arm just enough to peek under it herself, then smiles, and resolves to not get any blood at all on that dress, because she likes it. ]
It does not seem that bad, but I thought I should ask an expert.
no subject
[ Her eyes flick to Osana's face and she hesitates for only a moment before she reaches out to look at the wound, tilting her head one way and then another before she settles on a smile.
Easy enough to manage, far less tiresome than the last time someone wandered in looking for stitches. ]
I have a poultice we can put on it and then I shall bandage it, to make sure the air doesn't make it worse. I doubt it shall even scar.
no subject
[ It wouldn't be her first scar, or her worst, but that doesn't mean she wants to be covered in them—and it's impressive, too. She's never known anyone who could keep even a scraped knee from scarring. And Sidony is—
Well.
Osana looks around the room for somewhere to sit, and wonders if she ought to sit, when Sidony is a lady as well as a surgeon, and decides she should. Probably. Definitely. Sitting it is. ]
What made you want to do this?
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[ Sidony is vain enough to recognise how offensive she would find a scar personally - she doesn't think about the marks on her fingers from the Battle and the burning she was given there - so she does her best for this lovely woman now. Osana does not deserve to be marred with scarring, even if it might make her look dashing.
That is unimportant, clearly, so Sidony nods, motioning at a stool and making herself a little more comfortable, making sure hair isn't in her face. ]
Surgery? [ She hums, absently. ] I enjoyed watching the Mortalitasi work when I was very young. I wished to be like them, but I was bereft of magic, so I turned to the study of the living instead.
no subject
Was it hard to be taken seriously? When I wanted to fight, they said I was too pretty. [ Is that bragging? Maybe. But she says it simply and without much care, because it wasn’t as if it was a compliment at the time, and really it’s just a set-up for the next part: ] You must have had to deal with that sort of thing twice as often.
[ There’s no eyebrow wiggling, but her smile is entirely self-aware. ]
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Fight, hm? [ Her eyes flick up, hair falling almost deliberately over her shoulder to settle against her neck. It's not bragging if it isn't true.
But, oh. There's a moment where she falters, but it's a bare second before her smile is in place. ]
Too pretty and too intelligent for most men, I'm afraid you are right.
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Then it is fortunate they are necessary for so little.
no subject