Joined: 29 Sep 2015
Genevieve Adams, Mildred Ainsworth, Rowena Ashdown. Some girls Evangeline
knew, and others, she did not, but she needed not to know who they were to feel sorry for
them. Or, for herself, perhaps, for she was the next to be taken to the good doctors
office. It'd been... some time, since she had been inside the facility, and even
longer since she interacted with the Head Doctor. Before she was dismissed to her
new family, she'd done everything she could to avoid the man. Her father -- or
so went the rumor.
" Evangeline Grace Asmosia. "
A huff of air escapes between her lips, small hands coiling around the sides of her powder
blue gown and lifting it so that it did not drag along the floor as she began the short
walk alongside the orderly. (what a surprise, her special treatment
did not go unnoticed, she receives quite a few dirty looks as she
walks) She makes a feeble attempt at idle chit-chat: "And how has
your day been?" -- But it's met with a cold, silent stare that makes her shoulders droop
with dread. She'd almost nearly forgotten how horrid this place was.
Her nostrils expand as a final puff is blown through. She squares her shoulders and lifts
her head, chin up, and plasters that friendly, effervescent smile across her peach lips.
She thanks the orderly (who responds with a gruff grunt before taking
up his position outside the door) and knocks a loose-knuckled fist
on the heavy wood of the door, onetwothree.
Somebody responds within, and Evangeline eases the door open, making her way inside. Her
right ankle hooks behind the left and she folds at the knees, greeting the good doctor
with a well-practiced curtsy. After, she uses a lithe hand to flick the hair back off of
her shoulders and begins to undo the ribbon bow sitting at the small of her back. "
If you wouldn't mind, doctor, I should like to complete the physical examination in a
timely manner, and of my own accord. " Such eloquence in such a young, pretty
thing. Inherited from her whore mother, some had said. Still - why was she here, amongst
the filth and rags?
-- And just like that, she's stepping out of her gown and draping it over one of the
chairs just in front of the desk, carefully as to not put too many more wrinkles in it.
Not that it mattered so much, she would likely be shoved right into another ghastly
slip when this was done and over. Thankfully, the young woman had the decency to
actually wear undergarments, unlike many of the wenches in the place. Creme colored
(and quite expensive looking), the see-through
chemise top was tucked into a blue ribbon waistband of her drawers, which were just as
see-through and decorated with the same ribbon and ruffles along the bottom.
Evangeline lifts her right arm, turning it this was and that, showing that there were no
odd markings or discolorations there. She follows with the left, and then both move up to
her thick, dark, familiar hair as she spins around and lifts it off of the back of
her neck. Nothing at the nape of her neck, or between her shoulderblades, not even on her
spine. Facing the good doctor yet again, Eva leans down and gently eases up the legs of
her drawers to a decent level, exposing either thigh. Nothing there, either, aside from a
tiny brand of a dot on the outside of her thigh - probably caused by rough housing, or
some childhood mishap. It was too insignificantly small to even be noticed, unless the
good doctor had developed a keen eye for small details.
Eva clears her throat once she'd finished in her rather brash and sudden act of showing
off her body to the head doctor. She makes quick work of redressing herself, muttering a
half-hearted apology as she sunk into the chair before the desk. Her ankles cross below
the seat and her hands fold together, coming to rest atop her knee. Lips purse, a
well-kept brow raised. A familiar expression of one long-since forgotten. Some said
her ghost roamed the halls -- others protested it was just the young Evangeline and
her mouse-like footfall.
" It is very pleasant to be seeing you again, Dr. Haste. "
Oh, what a lying tongue that girl held between her teeth. That same polite smile, the
slightest tilt of the head to feign an interest in whatever his answer may be. She seemed
to be the picture of grace and innocence.
Oh, but -- if she were here, that surely could not be true.
drawers & chemise
Evangline Asmosia-Haste. Fifteen. Orphan.
Eidetic Memory. Female Hysteria.