Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1003455.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major
      Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Gen, Other, F/F
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Rose_Lalonde/Kanaya_Maryam
  Character:
      Rose_Lalonde, Kanaya_Maryam
  Additional Tags:
      trollfic
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-14 Words: 647
****** At The Doctor's Office ******
by DisConsulate
Summary
     It has been pointed out to me on multiple occasions that I appear not
     to have any respect for the RoseMary ship. In all the works I've
     posted thus far, either Rose or Kanaya either dies before the end,
     before the beginning, or simply does not appear at all. In the spirit
     of appeasement, then, I have produced this little piece. Hopefully
     those critics of mine will be satisfied.
Notes
     Almost all of the tags and archive warnings are entirely relevant to
     this fic.
See the end of the work for more notes
Beautiful, tall, fashionable Kanaya Maryam daintily opened the door into the
doctor’s office with a flawlessly manicured hand.  With her other, she took a
moment to reshape a stylish coif.  Her sensible flats glided across the
carpeted floor as she approached the severeceptionist’s desk, and asked after
her 3:00 appointment.  She was handed a few forms, a still-bleeding phalanx
with which to fill them out, and instructed to be seated while she waited.  She
demurely lowered herself into an uncomfortable plastic chair, her red skirts
billowing out from her ever so slightly, and retrieved a book from her handbag
to continue reading, once she’d fulfilled her duty to the bureaucratic
establishment.
 
Three chairs to the left, dear observer, sat glamorous, accomplished, charming
Rose Lalonde, deftly knitting together a knife-and-bulletproof cardigan out of
purposefully selected lavender, pink, and white yarns.  She had been at this
task for some time, her own forms having been completed and returned not five
minutes prior.  The wrinkled appendage she had been furnished with was, of
course, blood-crusted and useless, so she had discarded it in the waste chute
near the magazine rack by the desk.  The headlines for today’s news ran the
gamut from armed conflicts between the Legislaceration and the Ministry of the
Exchequtioner, to home improvement advice for how best to handle your
crustacean lusii’s sheddings during a seasonal molt.  Rose, ever the a modal
vision of perfection, had foregone the tabloids and set about her task with
singular focus.
 
Light jazz played over the waiting area’s speakers, serenading the women as
they veritably floated in their seats, gracing the squalor surrounding them
with an aura of glitz rarely afforded such humble accommodations.
 
At a quarter to three, Rose was called back to the office.  She neatly hooked
her stitch in the cardigan, placed her yarn back into her bag with little
ceremony, and stood gracefully.  Voguish sneakers sneaked their way across the
rug, whisking her through the door and back into the office, her elegant purple
dress rustling about her ankles, coyly suggesting her hips and thighs to any
and all observers.
 
Kanaya, intelligent and bewitching, turned a page in her book, fully engaged in
its phantasm and gore of high-minded rainbow drinker prose.  Soon, however,
alas!, it was time for her to be summoned by the doctor, and so she marked her
spot carefully and precisely, closed the book, and returned it to the confines
of her handbag.  Too late she remembered she had not filled out the required
paperwork, and so, apologizing graciously at the desk, requested another
writing instrument, as hers had dried and withered to a useless husk.  The
severeceptionist handed her a spurting tongue and a reproving look, and waved
her onward.
 
At a quarter past three, Rose, daring, charismatic Rose, exited the doctor’s
office.  She stopped by the desk to pick up a skewered edible sugar crystal and
pay her compliments to the severeceptionist with regards to her expertly
sculpted bob.  With a smile and a wave, and a polite refusal to pre-book a
second appointment, Rose crossed the waiting room, put a soft, pale hand on the
doorknob, and departed for her home across town to the east.
 
At half past three, talented and lovely Kanaya emerged from the doctor’s
office.  She stopped by the desk, but refused the offering of a skewered edible
sugar crystal while she made an appointment to return to this establishment in
a quarter of a sweep’s time.  She made idle chit-chat with the
severeceptionist, who was in a much improved mood since Kanaya had sashayed
into her day, checked her chic portable wrist-attached time measuring square,
and hastily made her apologies, but she was almost late for another engagement
across town.  She strove in a dignified manner toward the door, opened it, and
made her exeunt, catching a cab across town to the west.
 
~FIN~
End Notes
     I'm a terrible liar when it comes to tags and archive warnings with
     relation to this fic. Also, I don't know how knitting works.
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their work!