065 x 650 // video

[dignity_misery]

[ The camera is on the edge of a sink, pointed up towards a mirror which leaves Carla's hands free as she slowly runs a comb through long black hair. She's in the process of getting ready, in simple black underwear. She's... an attractive woman, but a little too thin and her skin bears too much of her self-hate. There are also some very large tattoos. A serpent with its tail at her knee, wound around her leg and its head at her stomach. When she turns away from the mirror, the inked spine up her back shows. There is apparently a new piece however, wrapped in gauze around her other thigh, large judging from the amount. ]

It's my birthday.

[ She states this while pulling on a simple red dress, sleeveless with buttons up the center. The pair of dog tattoos may be obvious as she fiddles the garment closed. She cleans up well. ]

Someone needs to take me to dinner.

[ Stated without a shred of shame. She also doesn't seem particularly... excited about the prospect of a birthday dinner either. Her brown eyes never really lift to try to make eye contact with the camera. And not with herself in the mirror either. ]

Comments

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[clerical]

[Well, he'll be averting his eyes.]

Is 'happy' too much to wish you?

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[dignity_misery]

That's a good question.

[She certainly doesn't feel happy.]

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[clerical]

Then I'll wish it anyway. No pressure.

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[dignity_misery]

No pressure?

[She might sound a little incredulous.]

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[clerical]

It was a joke. [Look, he's helpless here.] You don't often take well to my wanting good things for you.

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[dignity_misery]

[No, she doesn't. He's always been a problem for her, a wound whose aches she found difficult to understand.]

I have to make myself happy.

[She's decided against being helped and hoped for. The statement is just a new face to an old philosophy. In the end, however, she doesn't make herself happy.]

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[clerical]

Yes. How's that going? [And he risks a glance back at the screen and nods to her bandaged thigh] New work?

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[dignity_misery]

Yes. Happy birthday to me.

[It's not a particularly pleasant inspiration, however.]

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[clerical]

I'd like to give you something, though I already have dinner plans and you're not dressed as though you'd like to spend an evening with the grand dames of the parish.

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[dignity_misery]

I don't need a gift. I'm not twelve.

[unflagging]

Happy birthday.

[Because he figures the "happy" part will rankle her.]

[dignity_misery]

[She does give him a snide look, but in the end she was the one who announced it out loud.]

I wanted something other than well-wishes.

[unflagging]

But not a gift either, since it looks as though you've already suited yourself in that regard.

[dignity_misery]

[She looks down at the bandages around her leg.]

Do you want to see it?

[unflagging]

Very much so. May I?

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[clerical]

I do occasionally give my friends presents without infantilising them.

[dignity_misery]

[She adjusts the hem of her dress, hitching it over one hip before reaching down to unwind the protective layers of gauze. The gauze is only necessary in the very beginning, it signals how fresh the piece underneath is. As layers of white unwind, they steadily become seeped red. She examines the ropes of gauze thoughtfully when it is fully down, throwing them away in favor of rewrapping it before she goes out.

She tilts the new piece towards the mirror to let him see.]

It took a while.

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[dignity_misery]

[There's a small sigh.]

I know what I want for my birthday [A bitter wryness.] I'll take care of it.

[unflagging]

[Not ink, but blood. He smiles gently.]

It's lovely. And it suits you.

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[clerical]

[If you say so, Carla.]

What about lunch, tomorrow? It's been a while.

[dignity_misery]

I've made a lot of bad wishes.

[She has nice nails, dragging them lazily over the raised edges of the piece.]

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[dignity_misery]

[She runs a hand back through her hair. He won't be a priest tomorrow. She doesn't know which she prefers, honestly. One is certainly easier for her than the other.]

Alright.

[unflagging]

It has some seeds left on it too. So your mother isn't looking for you and you can stay out and play a little longer.

[dignity_misery]

Hm. [She hates her mother, so the smile she gives is a little thin and cruel.] Come and play with me.

[unflagging]

[He had a feeling, somehow.]

All right. What shall we play? Or are you too hungry to play first?