α cσυρℓє σƒ вяυιsє∂ ƒℓσωєяs -- C X I
It was the third Wednesday of the month, again. That red circle on her calender meant a brief examination and a two hour session of physical therapy, then bed rest and a lunch appointment she wasn't particularly looking forward to. The whole day was utterly exhausting, but she couldn't help smiling faintly at the IV drip hooked into her inner arm. Its familiar drip, drip, drip counted in time with the passing seconds. 5:14 PM and she was never, ever late. And with the soft click-clacking from some far away corridor, she sat upwards and began to count down from twenty. Her notebook waited with a blank expression directed towards the ceiling. Her pen was tucked neatly into the spiraled black wire, ready to be removed like Excalibur from the stone. 4, 3, 2, 1. . . A photographer of some sort walked in. It was a different man every month, and she never quite paid close attention to him. He was only there to document, after all. After him walked in an edgy beauty, who wore natural make up but stilts for shoes. They would go for a bare-faced, generous heart concept today. All of it as per usual. Iris was a model, not the most delicate flower in the bouquet, but beautiful all the same. Her fashions were a bit simplified when she came to visit, but nobody in the room was fooled by this act of normalcy. The woman was armed with a silver tongue and a gritty strength just below that airbrushed porcelain of hers. For as often as they exchanged passive aggressive words in a way only two females could, Charlotte's eyes rose and fell across the other's form to check for any fresh signs of her blissful romance. None visible, but they never were. When she sat down, her own translucent hand grazed Iris' crown of cropped hair and elegant cheekbones. Her opposing hand jotted down something rather quickly, and a smile filled the edges of her lips. [ ✑What? You didn't bring any food with you? Not all of us are on starvation diets, you know. ] Cue banter.