RP Log: Pretty like a Prince (of the Night?)
Who: Sheena (torans_playboy) and Sierra (no_maiden)
Where: Sierra's Room
When: Not too long after the journal debacle.
What: Makeover!
A castle cellar hardly seemed the appropriate place for a date, but who was Sheena to criticize the tastes of the world's oldest and most powerful vampire? As the heels on Sheena's boots thudded with an empty resonance against the cobblestones of the floor in Budehuc's basement, he couldn't help but wonder what fate awaited him once he reached the end of the corridor. What exactly does such a Princess of Darkness have in mind for a strapping, young man? Klaus had made it out of the war relatively unscathed despite the coven mistress's attentions, so at least he should survive to tell the tale (and boy, would he tell!)
The blonde whistled a low tune as he made his way past the final, dying torchlight on the wall, and rounded the corner to the...prison? It had been months since he had been down that particular path, and it had almost come as a surprise when he realized that the directions Sierra had left him with did, in fact, lead to the cells.
No, that couldn't have been right; he didn't see anybody locked in any of them, although one cell seemed to be covered with a dark, velvety fabric. Briefly, he wondered if the castle had recently undergone renovations (or if somebody had broken out of prison lately), but shrugged it off when no recollection of any announcements seemed to come to mind. It seemed, at the moment, that he was alone, though. Either he had been given the wrong directions, or Sierra had simply not arrived yet.
"Hey, Sierra...?" Sheena called quietly. The thought crossed his mind suddenly, and he found himself sincerely wishing that she wasn't hiding as a bat somewhere.
Sierra had actually considered that briefly, but decided in the end that she wasn’t quite that mean. What she had planned for Sheena’s makeover was probably bad enough, especially considering the recent event with the mysterious diary.
When she heard Sheena’s hesitant call, she tugged back one of the curtains covering the opening of her ‘room’. “In here.” She beckoned him inside, ushering the blond through the open cell door and into her sanctuary. It was a little disappointing to see that he had cut his hair again, but that was alright. She could make do. (At least with even less light in here than outside, Sheena wouldn’t be able to see what he was wearing until it was far too late-all the better!) She flashed a startlingly white smile at him, but the effect was probably a lot less friendly and significantly more ‘creepy’.
“Are you ready? There’s lots of work to be done.”
Sheena couldn't help but jump a little as the curtain unrolled from the prison cell beside him like the start of a theater show. He stared, quite unabashedly, at the small, but surprisingly cozy (he guessed? It was hard to see in this lighting) room she had made for herself.
At least it wasn't the graveyard this time.
Although the young man resented being told he needed "lots of work," he kept the sentiment to himself. He followed her lead and took a few steps into the prison cell. If the door happened to swing shut behind him as a trap, at least he would be behind bars with a beautiful woman, right?
"You aren't gonna, like...." he paused for a second, put off by her surprisingly visible fangs appearing like a cheshire cat in the darkness. "You aren't gonna do anything to me I won't like, right?"
Admittedly, the list of "things that could be done to him by a girl he wouldn't like" was quite small, but the fact that it existed at all meant something, right?
To Sierra, the little living space was very cozy indeed, since the curtains muffled much of the castle’s noises and the dim lighting was easy on her eyes.
“Oh no, you should know me better than that, Sheena.” She practically purred at Sheena, ushering him inside and pushing him to sit on one of the few chairs. “I would never do a thing to you that you didn’t ask for.” The door swung ominously shut behind them as Sierra turned up a small lamp, but Sheena would be happy to hear that it didn’t bolt itself.
*clunk*
…Or maybe it did.
But Sierra ignored it, so it was surely harmless. She was much more interested in the contents of a nearby trunk. “I can’t recall, Sheena, how did you say you felt about a cravat?” she asked as she pulled some clothing out of it.
Just a tiny bit of panic, the little that wasn't assuaged by the presence of a pretty girl, rose in the back of his throat as the bolt threw in the door, but he managed to force it into a nervous sort of laugh before anything too incriminating could come out. As Sheena watched, the pale woman seemed to absorb the light from the tiny lamp more than reflect it, and he gulped at the reminder that he wasn't quite with a human.
"Hahahaha, I guess you're right," he laughed and crossed his arms, unsure exactly of where he should be going right now. "I have known you for a while, and I know you wouldn't do anything bad with cravats unless I said so!"
"I mean, not that cravats are bad! I don't have anything against them."
Finally satisfied with the articles she’d taken from the trunk, Sierra started handing them to Sheena, first boots, then pants and jacket, and at last on the top, looking not unlike a frilly, dead rat, the cravat. “Excellent, dear. Just put these on while I fetch a few more little things.”
Of course, she didn’t specify what those little things where, but it was back into the trunk for more rummaging and what looked like even more frilly, dead rats. Probably best not to ask exactly what she had in there or where she’d gotten it, though the care with which she treated all the items in the trunk seemed to indicate they were important to her in some way.
“I won’t look at you, don’t worry.”
He stared for a moment, unsure of what else to say, at the pile of clothing. It seemed, for lack of better word, fancy, and although he briefly opened his mouth to protest, he quickly thought better of it and set the boots on the floor. For lack of any better ideas, he hung the jacket and pants on a vertical iron bar that ran across the front of the cell, and smiled. Maybe being stuck in a cell with a pretty lady while changing clothes wasn't a bad idea, after all!
"You sure you won't be tempted? I don't have anything to hide," he said with a wink that may or may not have been completely lost in the dim light. He had already made quick work of his overshirt and allowed it to fall carelessly to the floor behind him, hoping, just maybe, to catch Sierra's attention.
She snorted. “I assure you, I won’t be tempted.” She affected a dry tone, nearly bleeding sarcasm, “I wouldn’t want to impugn your virtue.” The wink wasn’t lost on Sierra, she was perfectly comfortable in the low light, rather, she chose to ignore it. Sheena was utterly shameless and ridiculous in his attempts to flirt…though perhaps saying so would have been the pot calling the kettle black.
She waited for Sheena to finish changing before turning around with her remaining items. Hmm. The effect was good, but incomplete. There was more work to do. “Sit down and close your eyes.”
Sheena seemed somewhat disappointed by the lack of interest in his assets, but set to work changing regardless. When almost finished (but not without great distress at the part of the long, intimidating piece that was meant for his neck), he stood and posed for Sierra as heroically as he could manage.
"Oh, I could get used to all of this. It's pretty dashing," he chimed, admiring the sleeve for a second, lost in his new outfit momentarily before it registered that Sierra had issued another command.
"Oh! Um, er....alright." What else was he going to do? Sheena sat down and closed his eyes.
Now that Sheena had finally obeyed her, Sierra was able to put together the finishing touches on his makeover. She turned back to her bed and picked up the wig she’d pulled from her trunk. Facing Sheena again, she flicked it over his shoulders, securing it firmly on his head.
“There.” Done at last! “Well, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” She grinned, a little mischievously. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with the girls like this.”
The sudden weird, hairy pressure on the top of his head (aside of the usual chaotic blonde mop that resided there, of course) startled Sheena and causes his eyes to fly open-- this hadn't quite been what he expected!
"Er...a wig? Is my hair really that bad? I mean, I thought it looked better short, so I..." he trailed off, picking at the long, long strands of hair. "I guess it looks good?"
It was hard to tell-- Sierra didn't have any mirrors.
"Well, thanks...!" Sheena said, pushing himself up from the chair, careful not to trip over his cape (or his hair, for that matter.) "I guess I'm done then, huh? Do I owe you anything?"
Another fangy smile and Sierra was definitely done. “Oh, absolutely. It looks wonderful. You’ll be quite the …lady-killer in this.” It was probably a good thing Sheena couldn’t see himself (and mirrors were so distracting anyway, why bother with them?), this way he’d keep the clothes on longer. She just hoped he didn’t damage the clothes at all-even if she had more, they were still priceless.
“What? Oh no, you don’t owe me anything.” And he really didn’t. The looks on people’s faces (especially Nash’s) would be payment enough.
"Lady-killer!" he repeated under his breath, admiring the sound of it for a second. Why, maybe this would solve all of his problems, after all!
"Thanks, Sierra! You are just a doll!" he exclaimed over his shoulder as he made his way for the door, careful not to get too many of the feathers (feathers...?) in his mouth as he turned his head.
He stopped, though, as he rattled the door and realized it was still locked.
"Uh..."
"Oopsie~" Sierra made a vague gesture as if to say she was sorry before unbolting the door. "Silly thing sticks. It's the oddest thing!"
She had the innocent look and tone down to an art, but it was probably a lie. ...Maybe.
"Now you go get 'em, killer." If he didn't leave soon, the effort of not laughing was going to kill her where other methods had failed.
Where: Sierra's Room
When: Not too long after the journal debacle.
What: Makeover!
A castle cellar hardly seemed the appropriate place for a date, but who was Sheena to criticize the tastes of the world's oldest and most powerful vampire? As the heels on Sheena's boots thudded with an empty resonance against the cobblestones of the floor in Budehuc's basement, he couldn't help but wonder what fate awaited him once he reached the end of the corridor. What exactly does such a Princess of Darkness have in mind for a strapping, young man? Klaus had made it out of the war relatively unscathed despite the coven mistress's attentions, so at least he should survive to tell the tale (and boy, would he tell!)
The blonde whistled a low tune as he made his way past the final, dying torchlight on the wall, and rounded the corner to the...prison? It had been months since he had been down that particular path, and it had almost come as a surprise when he realized that the directions Sierra had left him with did, in fact, lead to the cells.
No, that couldn't have been right; he didn't see anybody locked in any of them, although one cell seemed to be covered with a dark, velvety fabric. Briefly, he wondered if the castle had recently undergone renovations (or if somebody had broken out of prison lately), but shrugged it off when no recollection of any announcements seemed to come to mind. It seemed, at the moment, that he was alone, though. Either he had been given the wrong directions, or Sierra had simply not arrived yet.
"Hey, Sierra...?" Sheena called quietly. The thought crossed his mind suddenly, and he found himself sincerely wishing that she wasn't hiding as a bat somewhere.
Sierra had actually considered that briefly, but decided in the end that she wasn’t quite that mean. What she had planned for Sheena’s makeover was probably bad enough, especially considering the recent event with the mysterious diary.
When she heard Sheena’s hesitant call, she tugged back one of the curtains covering the opening of her ‘room’. “In here.” She beckoned him inside, ushering the blond through the open cell door and into her sanctuary. It was a little disappointing to see that he had cut his hair again, but that was alright. She could make do. (At least with even less light in here than outside, Sheena wouldn’t be able to see what he was wearing until it was far too late-all the better!) She flashed a startlingly white smile at him, but the effect was probably a lot less friendly and significantly more ‘creepy’.
“Are you ready? There’s lots of work to be done.”
Sheena couldn't help but jump a little as the curtain unrolled from the prison cell beside him like the start of a theater show. He stared, quite unabashedly, at the small, but surprisingly cozy (he guessed? It was hard to see in this lighting) room she had made for herself.
At least it wasn't the graveyard this time.
Although the young man resented being told he needed "lots of work," he kept the sentiment to himself. He followed her lead and took a few steps into the prison cell. If the door happened to swing shut behind him as a trap, at least he would be behind bars with a beautiful woman, right?
"You aren't gonna, like...." he paused for a second, put off by her surprisingly visible fangs appearing like a cheshire cat in the darkness. "You aren't gonna do anything to me I won't like, right?"
Admittedly, the list of "things that could be done to him by a girl he wouldn't like" was quite small, but the fact that it existed at all meant something, right?
To Sierra, the little living space was very cozy indeed, since the curtains muffled much of the castle’s noises and the dim lighting was easy on her eyes.
“Oh no, you should know me better than that, Sheena.” She practically purred at Sheena, ushering him inside and pushing him to sit on one of the few chairs. “I would never do a thing to you that you didn’t ask for.” The door swung ominously shut behind them as Sierra turned up a small lamp, but Sheena would be happy to hear that it didn’t bolt itself.
*clunk*
…Or maybe it did.
But Sierra ignored it, so it was surely harmless. She was much more interested in the contents of a nearby trunk. “I can’t recall, Sheena, how did you say you felt about a cravat?” she asked as she pulled some clothing out of it.
Just a tiny bit of panic, the little that wasn't assuaged by the presence of a pretty girl, rose in the back of his throat as the bolt threw in the door, but he managed to force it into a nervous sort of laugh before anything too incriminating could come out. As Sheena watched, the pale woman seemed to absorb the light from the tiny lamp more than reflect it, and he gulped at the reminder that he wasn't quite with a human.
"Hahahaha, I guess you're right," he laughed and crossed his arms, unsure exactly of where he should be going right now. "I have known you for a while, and I know you wouldn't do anything bad with cravats unless I said so!"
"I mean, not that cravats are bad! I don't have anything against them."
Finally satisfied with the articles she’d taken from the trunk, Sierra started handing them to Sheena, first boots, then pants and jacket, and at last on the top, looking not unlike a frilly, dead rat, the cravat. “Excellent, dear. Just put these on while I fetch a few more little things.”
Of course, she didn’t specify what those little things where, but it was back into the trunk for more rummaging and what looked like even more frilly, dead rats. Probably best not to ask exactly what she had in there or where she’d gotten it, though the care with which she treated all the items in the trunk seemed to indicate they were important to her in some way.
“I won’t look at you, don’t worry.”
He stared for a moment, unsure of what else to say, at the pile of clothing. It seemed, for lack of better word, fancy, and although he briefly opened his mouth to protest, he quickly thought better of it and set the boots on the floor. For lack of any better ideas, he hung the jacket and pants on a vertical iron bar that ran across the front of the cell, and smiled. Maybe being stuck in a cell with a pretty lady while changing clothes wasn't a bad idea, after all!
"You sure you won't be tempted? I don't have anything to hide," he said with a wink that may or may not have been completely lost in the dim light. He had already made quick work of his overshirt and allowed it to fall carelessly to the floor behind him, hoping, just maybe, to catch Sierra's attention.
She snorted. “I assure you, I won’t be tempted.” She affected a dry tone, nearly bleeding sarcasm, “I wouldn’t want to impugn your virtue.” The wink wasn’t lost on Sierra, she was perfectly comfortable in the low light, rather, she chose to ignore it. Sheena was utterly shameless and ridiculous in his attempts to flirt…though perhaps saying so would have been the pot calling the kettle black.
She waited for Sheena to finish changing before turning around with her remaining items. Hmm. The effect was good, but incomplete. There was more work to do. “Sit down and close your eyes.”
Sheena seemed somewhat disappointed by the lack of interest in his assets, but set to work changing regardless. When almost finished (but not without great distress at the part of the long, intimidating piece that was meant for his neck), he stood and posed for Sierra as heroically as he could manage.
"Oh, I could get used to all of this. It's pretty dashing," he chimed, admiring the sleeve for a second, lost in his new outfit momentarily before it registered that Sierra had issued another command.
"Oh! Um, er....alright." What else was he going to do? Sheena sat down and closed his eyes.
Now that Sheena had finally obeyed her, Sierra was able to put together the finishing touches on his makeover. She turned back to her bed and picked up the wig she’d pulled from her trunk. Facing Sheena again, she flicked it over his shoulders, securing it firmly on his head.
“There.” Done at last! “Well, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” She grinned, a little mischievously. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with the girls like this.”
The sudden weird, hairy pressure on the top of his head (aside of the usual chaotic blonde mop that resided there, of course) startled Sheena and causes his eyes to fly open-- this hadn't quite been what he expected!
"Er...a wig? Is my hair really that bad? I mean, I thought it looked better short, so I..." he trailed off, picking at the long, long strands of hair. "I guess it looks good?"
It was hard to tell-- Sierra didn't have any mirrors.
"Well, thanks...!" Sheena said, pushing himself up from the chair, careful not to trip over his cape (or his hair, for that matter.) "I guess I'm done then, huh? Do I owe you anything?"
Another fangy smile and Sierra was definitely done. “Oh, absolutely. It looks wonderful. You’ll be quite the …lady-killer in this.” It was probably a good thing Sheena couldn’t see himself (and mirrors were so distracting anyway, why bother with them?), this way he’d keep the clothes on longer. She just hoped he didn’t damage the clothes at all-even if she had more, they were still priceless.
“What? Oh no, you don’t owe me anything.” And he really didn’t. The looks on people’s faces (especially Nash’s) would be payment enough.
"Lady-killer!" he repeated under his breath, admiring the sound of it for a second. Why, maybe this would solve all of his problems, after all!
"Thanks, Sierra! You are just a doll!" he exclaimed over his shoulder as he made his way for the door, careful not to get too many of the feathers (feathers...?) in his mouth as he turned his head.
He stopped, though, as he rattled the door and realized it was still locked.
"Uh..."
"Oopsie~" Sierra made a vague gesture as if to say she was sorry before unbolting the door. "Silly thing sticks. It's the oddest thing!"
She had the innocent look and tone down to an art, but it was probably a lie. ...Maybe.
"Now you go get 'em, killer." If he didn't leave soon, the effort of not laughing was going to kill her where other methods had failed.