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Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

Post by DrDonaldBlake on Thu Mar 05, 2009 4:27 am

" Alright,I can do that..." doctor blake said with a smile, sitting back in his seat, leaning his walking stick against the table. Taking a moment following to make sure the mas was on right. which it was, he had a great deal experience with this particular type of mask."be careful pris.." word of warming, he couldnt help it.

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

Post by Guest on Fri Mar 06, 2009 1:16 pm

as the two men put on their masks, she put on her own. she didn't have as much experience wearing this kind of mask as donnie duck did, but she had worn them before. as she tied the second tie her green eyes were ping ponging between the joseph and donnie. waiting until they were done tying their masks to unscrew one of the lids from the colors. a vibrant red.

she didn't use a spoon. instead she tap tapped the open jar over the first jar that held three yolks. there was a light sound of clinking glass. the red powder dropped in short spurts into the container, and pris was watching it with rapt attention. she didn't need to use any kind of measuring device. her memory measured things just as well. maybe even better.

her answer was dreamy yet matter-of-fact as she replied to joseph. "you look like a chef who's put on the wrong kind of apron." her answer wasn't meant to be a joke, that was truly how she saw the picture, considering he was there with all those egg whites and had talked all this time of making them food.

and then, from behind her mask pris made a face at doctor blake. it was a shame he couldn't see it, it was probably a fantastic ugly brat face. "you be careful, you." she replied with a bit of sass in her tone. she capped the jar of red pigment and set it aside, grabbing a stirring rod and swishing it evenly around within the jar to mix things up. then, stirring rod left in the glass, she picked up the large bottle of water. as she poured the water emerald eyes glanced up at him a she added, "i'm not doing surgery, that's you, that's your kind of masked man doctor duck."

she stirred the red pigment again, and then pushed the jar towards donald. the oil and a spoon were already sitting on the table. "there nurse. three teaspoons of oil. and then stir. and then you can put the lid back on. nurse." though her face was obscured, he could probably tell by her tone that she was very amused she got to call him nurse.

directions given, she moved on to the next jar. to this one, she was adding a rich yellow pigment.

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

Post by Guest on Sun Mar 08, 2009 2:23 am

Joseph was watching. She seemed to know exactly how much she wanted to use. Then she said he looked like he was wearing the wrong kind of apron. She didn't sound like she was kidding. But Joseph found a hint of amusement in her comment. He tried to look serious while trying to hide a chuckle. Somehow me managed to keep his composure.

She was tapping the pigment into one jar from the other. The clanking of the glass jars put a song into his head. Not because she was playing it, just because her pattern was close. She started to stir the powder into the egg yolks, it was a very lovely shade of red.

When she added the water, the color didn't fade. He knew that with some paints, if you added things to them, the color would look weaker. It wasn't the case here. He tilted his head to watch. Her comment about the Doctor being a masked man made him smile. But then when she called him a nurse, he had to laugh. It was funny. The next color was going to be yellow.

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

Post by DrDonaldBlake on Tue Mar 10, 2009 9:13 pm

"okay, okay miss doctor prissy pants." said with his own cheeky smile up at her, picking up the oil and stirring it carefully into the powder and egg yolks. hands of a surgeon carefully making sure everything was all mixxed perfect. before just like her he moved onto the next one, taking the yellow when she was done with it.

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

Post by Guest on Wed Mar 11, 2009 12:05 am

"not a doctor," pris said quickly, gaze jerking up to look at donnie duck when he said that. there was an urgent earnest to her tone, and then she pressed her lips together nice and tight. like she was trying to prevent other words from spilling out. it was okay that he was a doctor who took no notes, because he was her friend. but other doctors...they weren't as okay. and the idea that she would be a doctor? she couldn't let that be. that was too close to her grandmother. who ended up in a room with pillows all alone after caring for so many people. thoughts were starting to spill.

"no," she repeated to herself. her next words came in a rapid mumble, a very quick recitation of something she was taught to keep her in her driver's seat by chasing away thoughts she didn't want to have. as she was reciting, even her actions sped up. she'd get through mixing two more paints as she said, "no. like trains of cars on tracks of plush i hear the level bee a jar across the flowers goes their velvet masonry withstands until the sweet assault their chivalry consumes when he victorious tilts - " there pris stopped. this time it worked, and she didn't even have to get all the way through the poem.

the rest of the breath she happened to have in her lungs she exhaled. as she glanced between doctor donnie and joseph, she was relieved that she was just seeing them. no pillowed walls, no lonely grandmothers, no hospital gowns or pills pills pills falling from the sky and growing as they came to suffocate. just donnie duck and joseph. "yes." she pulled another jar of pigment from her box and began mixing another paint, saying in a voice that was not dreamy for a chance and instead almost meek, "i'd rather be a miracle potion maker who's going to eat an omelet with breakfast potatoes."

after the jar she was working on was mixed, she slid the three she had just done to doctor do-good and immediately started working on the next. at this rate, her paint making would be done in no time. but she couldn't work in quiet. not right now. which is why she said firmly, as if it were part of the rules, "now it's time for one of you to tell a story."

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

Post by Guest on Wed Mar 11, 2009 1:35 am

Joseph looked up when her tone became snappy. She obviously was not a fan of other Doctors. When she started to rattle off a list of words, that made no sense to Joseph in the order she was saying them, his eye narrowed and his brow furrowed as he tried to hear the words and make them make sense in his mind. He was out of luck, she was done before it had a chance to click in his damaged brain.

Evidently what ever it was she was trying to do with those words worked. She went from no to yes. But he had to smile when she said she was a miracle potion maker who was going to eat an omelet with breakfast potatoes. She showed signs of a wonderful imagination. She reminded him more and more of his kid sister every time she spoke. It was making Joseph smile.

Maybe that was why, when she asked for a story, he chose to tell her a story of his sister, Ester. "I have a story for you pretty miss Priss. I used to have this kid sister named Ester. She was a pretty little red-haired girl. Her eyes were as green as yours. She used to have this doll she carried around with her. She named it Lilly. She said it was because the kids at school called her Easter, so they were Easter Lilly."

He chuckled at the memory of all that. "Did you ever have a doll that you loved enough to name when you were a kid pretty miss Priss?" He was honestly curious. There were other stories about Ester, but the doll named Lilly was the first thing that came to his mind. Her and that doll that she carried around everywhere and treated like a real child. That was why, if anyone ever got into the bottom drawer of his Armour, they would find Lilly, nestled in a little car seat.

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

Post by Guest on Sat Mar 14, 2009 2:34 pm

most people wouldn't recognize the words pris had rattled off so rapidly. even people who knew the poem by emily dickinson might not recognize it because she made it all one string and not in the rhythm the words were meant to be said. to pris the words weren't any kind of special language. they were just words she was supposed to say in order to get her mind focused on them instead of...other things. like pillowed walls or rope.

joseph told her about a sister and a doll and then asked her to tell a story. during his story her eyes only darted to the things that she needed to mix her paints. but she was listening to every word he said. and repeating some of them under her breath right after he said them. story. green. lily. easter. those were some she echoed very quietly to herself. echoing helped her mind focus on what was being said. focusing on what was being said helped her distract herself from the images she was seeing in her mind. being distracted would make them go away. or usually did. unless things got bad.

"lily easter lily," she murmured to her self. "and colored eggs." she swished around a very bright yellow green with a stirring stick as she said that. in a way she was coloring eggs. her mind made connections like that, ones that other minds often didn't make.

but he wanted her to tell him a story. about dolls? she squirmed her weight from one foot to the other as she slid the yellow-green jar to doctor blake. she squirmed again when she pulled another jar of yolks towards her, and tapped in the powder that would make a red-brown once she started mixing. finally she recited her answer like a poem,

"one day men in gray
came to take my dolls away
while i cried
there they tried
saying things would be okay.

when i said they were wrong,
they replied mean and strong
that when dolls began to talk
and told little girls to walk
that was not a pretty song.

so really i shouldn't've said
that my dolls wished mother dead,
because my trust-ed
my doctor he bust-ed
by telling mom while in her bed."

was she serious? she couldn't be serious. there was nothing in her sing-song that said anything other than she was serious. not one pause in her story, not one pause in her paint mixing. but pris had habits. bad habits of testing people to see how crazy they would 'let' her be. because strangers, once they saw how odd she was, tended to take everything she did at face value. now if she'd told that little rhyme in front of dommy? well he'd be smacking her right about now.

as she slid over another jar to most precious donnie and pulled the next in front of her, she asked joseph in a tone that was so very very casual, in a tone that behaved like she didn't just suggest her dolls talked and told her to kill her mother, "did men in grey ever take her doll away?"

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Re: Pris and the Dozens of Eggs

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