13 Oct 2019, 22:42
New Robes
Posted as Ilvermorny student Arslan Frost with @Marcia Kingsleigh 's Ilvermorny Character Timothy Grey
Arslan twitched for what must have been the fifth time in as many minutes. And not just a small, barely there twitch that one might get when a limb was about to fall asleep or if one was a bit nervous, but instead a full body twitch; a feeble attempt to make the silver embroidery thread of his robes a bit less suffocating. It, just like with the four twitches before it, helped very little.
Arslan, one of Ilvermorny's most chronically lazy and tired students, would have been perfectly content, arriving at tonight's ball in his most comfortable, well worn trousers and T-shirt and preferably if he thought that he would get away with it barefoot. Unfortunately his mother was the polar opposite of him and, as soon as she had gotten wind of the idea of a ball being held, had gone all out selecting an outfit for him. An outfit she had presented to Arslan, the day he'd departed on this school trip. An outfit that he better wore with the correct amount of grace and appreciation if he ever wanted to return home.
True, Arslan knew that these threats were empty and spoken as light banter, yet he knew that he’d never forgive himself for disappointing her. So here he was, trying not to fidget and twitch too much whenever silvery embroidery thread would run against his skin. He was dressed, head to toe in solid black. High waisted, fitting breeches that were tucked into black knee high boots, a wide blouse that was artfully tucked into the breeches and with tightly fitting cuffs and high collar. Over all this, he wore a semi-translucent robe, so thin it looked like wisps of smoke and embroidery that was charmed to catch and reflect the light, revealing the intricate patterns of star charts, silvery constellations standing out against the dark background of his clothing.
His mask itself was plain; a simple silver half-mask that did not distract from the robes themselves, yet hid his identity well enough. Or would have, at least, had it not been for the fact that half of the people who were going to be present at this function went to the same school with him and could probably recognize his head of messy locks as one of their own.
And, should they fail to recognise him via his hair, his always present magenta scarf, sacred (to him) heirloom he'd inherited from his grandmother, would be the dead giveaway. It was his lifeline on this evening, when the embroidery scratched at this throat yet again and he was sorely tempted to kick off these boots and tear at his collar until he felt like he could breathe again.
Oh, how he wished the whole night was over already. Yet here he was, standing on the grounds and outside of Ilvermorny's current campsite, waiting for his friend to emerge so they could either ditch the ball entirely and go hide somewhere or, at the very least, suffer together.
‘Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent.’ - Severus Snape, Half-Blood Prince
13 Oct 2019, 23:07
New Robes
Posting as dNPC Timothy Grey
To say, Timothy was overjoyed the evening of the ball is finally is there, would be an understatement. In fact, Timothy grinned like a Cheshire
for some time now, while he put on his carefully chosen clothes. Not, that he was anxious to attend the ball, on the contrary. The time here was the most boring adventure he could have ever imagined. He had expected nothing and was still disappointed. The end of the ball would also mark the end of their stay here, which was reason enough to celebrate. Gone would be the tent, gone would be this country and its people with their weird accent.
He put down the brush and looked in the mirror, inspecting his work. "Perfect." Black shadows painted with some charcoal were framing his eyes. It certainly was not neatly done, but it would do the trick. With one swift motion, he put on the mask. His hair was sticking out everywhere, but he did not put in the effort to hide it underneath his mask. It would do.
As he left his room he snatched his big coat to hide under it. The coat would cover his trousers and baggy shirts.
His friend Arslan and he had planned to go as casual as possible, not indulging to any norm. He was sure people would come up with the most ridiculous costumes, fighting for the right to have the most pompous mask. Arslan and he would stay out of the drama, they swore. While Arslan would wear his normal stuff, probably without any shoes, Timothy wanted at least some fun to pretend, he was Batman.
"I am the terror, that flaps in the night," he said with unnatural deep voice. "I am the terror, that flaps in the night. Yes, that sounds better." He was practising his catchphrase for the evening, but when he noticed Arslan standing on the grounds, waiting for him, he couldn't believe his eyes. His steps came to a halt.
"Dude, what the fuck."
If he wouldn't have worn his signature scarf, Timothy might have problems in recognising his friend. Timothy couldn't say any word, but instead just stared at Arslan in his fancy robe. A few seconds passed. Eventually, Timothy swallowed hard. "Gimmi five minutes." His coat whirled around him, as he turned and run back into his room.
Stamina: 4 | Evasion: 6 | Strength: 9 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane: 2 | Accuracy: 9
Stamina: 3 | Agility: 6 | Strength: 15 | Control: 11
Marcia Kingsleigh
Stamina: 3 | Agility: 6 | Strength: 15 | Control: 11
Marcia Kingsleigh
18 Oct 2019, 11:23
New Robes
posted as Arslan Frost
Arlsan blinked owlishly as he watched his friend disappear into the makeshift camp again. He hadn't expected Tim to just go along with Arslan's change of outfit. They'd planned to make this just a normal Halloween party like any other with Tim going as some form of shadowy humanoid character and Arslan as that one uninspired (and uninspiring) kid that went as himself and called it a costume.
Now, with Arslan's sparkly torture-device-masquerading-as-clothing, he'd expected Tim to just be entirely unfazed and spend the evening laughing at Arslan's misery. But apparently Arslan had thought wrong. So instead of walking up to the castle and starting his pity party along the way, he stood in the quickly dimming evening-light, glowering at his boots. Why did they even have heels in the first place? Granted, they were only an inch (if even that) but still, that was already too much for his tastes. He could only imagine the annoying clicking sounds they would make on Hogwarts' stone floors. Urg, just thinking about that gave Arslan a headache.
Maybe he could just follow Tim and call the entire thing off? Say he'd just claim to feel ill and that he had to sit out the festivities? Then again Arslan was certain Tim would straight out murder him if Arslan were to make him change outfits yet again. And despite all laziness, Arslan rather appreciated being alive. So he would have to simply grit his teeth and deal with it....and sparkle. Arslan groaned, suffering in silence and secretly wondering just what he'd done to justify his mother making him wear this outfit?
‘Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent.’ - Severus Snape, Half-Blood Prince
20 Oct 2019, 20:45
New Robes
Done, continued in BallroomPosting as dNPC Timothy Grey
He was muttering curses under his breath the whole time he tried to layer himself with clothes. While he had been walking back he had used his big coat to get rid of the makeup he just had put on, leaving ugly smears on the fabric. His face probably still was a canvas with white and black paint mixed to grey, fitting for his name.
There only were seconds to decide what to do. The dirty cloth vanished somewhere in the corner once he arrived in his room. Even while walking to the tent he had started to unbutton his trousers. Thankfully the campsite was already bathed in dim light, so Timothy felt safe to unclothe himself in the open. The clock was ticking.
His ball suit was still in his suitcase, since he would never have guessed, that he would need it. The picture of Arslan dressed in his gown suit was still lingering in his mind. Well, there goes their plan for some casualty. What his grandmother would think if she could see him now, trying to fit in all the clothes at once? Three minutes left.
SO far, he only ever had worn his fest robes once to try them out. He mostly would be covered in thick fur, which had been his own choice. If he had to go to a cold and foreign country, he would make sure to not freeze to death. He also had thought about wearing gloves, but the fur was covering most of his hand anyway. Mask, mask where had he put the mask? Two minutes.
His feet were in his boots, but they still needed to be tied. First, he had to find that damn mask. Old clothes from the days of his stay flew through the air as he searched the ground and all his drawers for the thing until he finally found it in a bag. Some chains were dangling from his chest, chains he needed to fasten somewhere on that suit. "Shit, shit!" In order to have his hands free, he put the edge of the mask in his mouth, biting on the leather. One minute.
Well, his boots still not were tied, but at least his trousers and robes started to look presentable. He almost was out of the door, when he stopped and returned to get something in the bag. Unlike the mask, which by now was hanging loosely around his neck, he had found the feather immediately. Then he finally left his room for the second time.
While he walked, he tried to comb through his hair with his fingers, braiding in the feathers he had taken with him. Too late he remembered, that his face probably still was too white, even for him.
Arslan was waiting for him at the exact same spot, and Timothy was fairly sure that only five minutes had passed since he had left him standing there. His breath was heavy, but he grinned at his friend in victory.
"What are you waiting for?" he smugly asked, finishing his braids.
Stamina: 4 | Evasion: 6 | Strength: 9 | Wisdom: 5 | Arcane: 2 | Accuracy: 9
Stamina: 3 | Agility: 6 | Strength: 15 | Control: 11
Marcia Kingsleigh
Stamina: 3 | Agility: 6 | Strength: 15 | Control: 11
Marcia Kingsleigh