“Sanitaum..,” Her voice was hushed as she allowed the surname to dance on her tongue in response. Latin? It sure sounded Latin to her. The corners of her lips curled up more, “What a lovely name, I like it,”
Her head dipped down to bow in return: some of her hair already spilling over her shoulders. ( Perhaps it might not be in her best interest to wear it down. Already, it seemed frayed and in need of care. But ah, that would defeat the purpose, would it not? )
“There’s a language to it,” It was here that she brought her head up, red irises staring back through dark lashes. As she spoke, she brought on her hands up, gesturing smoothly, “—-a name is not just a mere label. It’s a mark. It’s a measurement of time. A means to embed yourself in the minds of the living. It’s a warning, a meaning, a hope, a reliance. In a way it defines you, both you and your moniker working in tandem~,”
“ Why you’re quite the poet, aren’t you? “
A hushed chuckle slipped from her lips in response to the delicate crafting of words that graced her ears. Whoever this stranger was, she was certainly a charming individual, well-versed in the ways of speech and charisma. She had succeeded in bringing a faint smile and air of amiability to Amelia’s sophisticated visage, but how heartfelt those gestures were remained to be seen.
She had turned to tidy up her surroundings to a more presentable state, although she still merrily continued their conversation. The soothing sound of the doctor’s reply was accompanied by stacks of papers brushing against each other as they were set into neat piles, and glass jars of human matter clanking together as they were placed on nearby shelves.
“ I suppose I can agree with you, although it’s something that I’ve never pondered too deeply. My fascination has always been in the material world, things sensible by the human body and all things having to do with it. I’m sure it all sounds rather drab, but what else would one expect from one who made her living as a doctor? ”
