thecapitol | Claudia and Her Brand New Job

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Claudia and Her Brand New Job

Who| Claudia, the Initiate, Redglare, Enjolras, Venus
What| meeting the new stylist
Where| D5 Suite
When| A day or so before the date auction
Warnings/Notes| ??? (language, probably, considering the Initiate)

Claudia's stomach is full of butterflies. Absolutely full. This is going to be her very first day on the job as a REAL Stylist--not just a prep team worker like she's been the last three years. And she's going to be in charge of dressing not one but two of the trolls.

One of which is the Initiate, who rumor has it gave the last person to hold Claudia's job a nervous breakdown.

He's not going to scare Claudia off, though. Not with some of the things she's been through in the name of babysitting. She can totally handle it.

She consults her list of her half of the District Five tributes one last time:

Well. Might as well start at the top.

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Claudia decides to get the worst over with first.

The Initiate enters the room as he always does; daring the stylist fucks to try anything with him lest they have no wish to keep limb or life. It’s almost routine now, walk in, snarl at his stylist, snap his jaws at them and make threat, then see them cower and fret, as they motherfucking should, until they’re allowed to release that sigh of relief that he can leave.

But this one, this human, isn’t the same as before. He stops and stares at her, as if offended by her very existance before him.

“The fuck are you?”

"Claudia Kishi, your new stylist," said human replies cooly, lifting her chin to look up so she can look him in the eye. "The last one retired while you were in the arena."

She manages not to tremble at all and is obscenely proud of that.

"I was hoping we could talk about your interests, so I could design around them. I like to personalize outfits if I can!"

“My… interests,” He repeats, incredulous.

It wasn’t as if he wanted the former stylist, but now he’d have to set the boundaries all over again. Really, he’d rather just not have to deal with a stylist, period.

“INTREST IN NOT MOTHERFUCKING DOING THIS,” He says, raising a brow. “Interest at for the having of his armour and subjugglators uniform returned.”

Yeah, this Fraysong guy is a total brat. Worse than Jenny Prezioso.

"What does your armor look like?" she asks, pushing forward in the interview. "Maybe I could design around it. Or design something that looks like it but is a little more fashionable. Oh, and I know from the last guy's notes that you refuse to go bareface and I can definitely work with that, but have you ever thought of different facepaint designs?"

She chews on her pen-cap. "I really do want to know your interests. I know most stylists just pick something vaguely in fashion and go with it, but I figure you'd be happier wearing something reflecting you. Like, okay, one of my friends when I was a kid was training to be a ballerina? So I made her ballet shoes earrings when I was thirteen."

"BONE," He tells her, casually as anything. "Bone of my culls and kills. TROLL AND LUSUS ALIKE. Melded with what materials I motherfucking had on hand at to strengthen and bind them. SOME PAINTED MY COLOR WITH THE OPENED VEINS OF UNWORTHY INDIGOS. And what spill of my own I chose to give. MY ARM CUFFS TOO. Stripped."

She wasn't going to try and take off his paint. He'd won that battle at least. He's not so sure about different designs.

"THE DESIGNS WHAT EACH MIRTHFUL FOLLOWER OF THE CHURCH CHOOSES FOR THEIR OWNSELVES ARE MEANT AT TO BE SACRED. Thieving no face what is belonging already to a motherfucker. LEST WITH AGE A NINJA DECIDED AT THE CHANGING OF IT." He pauses. "I'll consider. BUT I AIN'T LIKELY TO SAY YES." Unless she gave a damn good reason for it. Finally, with a huff, he finds himself a seat. May as well.

"My interests lie wherever the Messiahs wish me to be lead. THE CHURCH. The scripture..." He starts, slowly, like he isn't quite sure of what she might plan to do with the information. Giving that which is safest. He also carefully dodges around her mention of her (former) age, lest she inquire his, and note a a disparity.

Claudia's eyes just grow wider and wider. "I guess I can see why they took it," she says finally, "if it was made of actual blood and bones. I don't know if I can get it back for you--honestly, considering what it was made of they probably either tossed it out or sold it to a troll fanatic back when you guys were the big new thing--but maybe we can reproduce it with synthetic materials. Are you any good at drawing? Even if you're not, a crude sketch might still give me an idea."

She reaches into a drawer, pulls out a pad of paper and two pens: black and purple, which she hands to the Initiate.

"Here. Draw me what your uniform looks like and tell me about your church."

"THAT TOOK A QUARTER SWEEP TO FORM..." He seethes, grinding the words out through his teeth. But he's not as furious as he could be. It isn't surprising that they'd be so careless. Now he just knows for sure. He sighs in his irritation and accepts the pens and paper. He considers for a moment spilling more blood to paint it, but no, none of capitol deserved his sickest miracle, they had already taken too much. And anyway, the paper wasn't big enough for it. He preferred painting, but he could do this well enough. He starts to sketch out the basic uniform, alternating between black and purple ink.

"My church is known at to be called THE CULT OF THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS, but we of the church, WE CALL IT THE CARNIVAL. We follow the scripture the Messiahs two and hold to the prophesies of the Minstrels to rise, the paradise to come, and the most righteous motherfucking sounding of THE VAST HONK, the ender of times. WE PREACH SALVATION, family in the carnival, THE ABOLISHMENT OF HERESY AND SIN, and worship of the holy. CELEBRATED ARE THE MIRACLES OF LIFE AND DEATH BOTH and every true motherfucking miracle what lay between and beyond. WE SEEK OUR TRUEST MOTHERFUCKING SELVES AND WITHOUT TEMPERANCE. And we give that truest self to our Messiahs wills without motherfucking question for that is to whom the sorry souls belong."

He scratches the pad just a few times more and passes it back. The subbjugglator staples; dark loose pants with the indigo circles, the indigo striped arm pieces and dark vest. His armour too has been drawn on, a necklace of collected fangs-- likely thrown out too. And in the corner, in purple ink, he draws his hatch symbol.

Edited 2013-09-02 15:22 (UTC)

Having endured the Initiate, she might as well get the other troll done as well. Anyway, she was next on the list.

Redglare does not want to do this. She wants to sit in her bathtub and keep trying to soak away the nonexistent desert dust and lingering guilt. It hasn't worked so far but she can keep trying.

It takes a lot of berating from her escort through the door to come meet her new stylist that she at long last climbs out of the water that's long since gone cold and throws on a robe. When she walks into the common room, wrapped in a silk robe with her hair falling around her face in wet clumps, she gives Claudia a critical once over.

"Let me guess, the Initiate scared away the previous stylist because of the obscene number of brushes that were lost in his hair."

Claudia shrugs. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was his death-threats. Anyway, my name is Claudia Kishi and I'll be creating your outfits from now on. So, what kind of stuff are you interested in? And do you have any color preferences? I'd like to create outfits that are you."

Claudia has really been looking forward to this tribute. He's so cute!

The simple gold bands on his ears are evidence enough of exactly how well his last appointment with the stylists had gone. As such, while Enjolras is usually more than willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt, he can't help the feeling of dread that's settled over him in the course of the afternoon.

"Mademoiselle?" He calls, poking his head through the door as if he's fully expecting to be ambushed as soon as he makes his presence fully known. It isn't inaccurate or unwarranted, he feels. Women risked their health for fashion regularly, it's a thoroughly vicious field.

"Hi! Enjolras, right? I'm Claudia. Your last stylist took early retirement. Come in, so I can interview you. I've got snacks."

And indeed, there's a plate full of assorted candies and chocolates on the table beside her.

"So, my way of designing stuff involves tailoring my outfits so that they reflect the wearer and not necessarily the most on trend thing. I reviewed some of your recordings," even though they'd bored her more than when Janine would drone about quantum physics, "and I know you like philosophy and France. Anything else?"

At the snacks, his expression shifts to one of pursed lips and a furrowed brow. This isn't exactly what he'd been expecting. It certainly isn't the sinister den of terrible borderline human experimentation he'd experienced before. Still, it was hard to forget his past incidents with stylists, and Enjolras remains wary of her. As she speaks, he regards her warily and the furrowed brow never quite goes away, even if the lines around his mouth lessen.

"My affinity for liberty is, I suspect, remarkably well documented by now." Probably too well for his own good, really. Outside of cockades and the red cap of liberty, however, he can't really see what all this has to do with fashion.

She nods slowly and chews a little on her pen cap. "The problem," Claudia says after a moment, "is that ideas like 'liberty' and 'philosophy' are really hard to illustrate. They're way too abstract. France would probably be easier, but I don't know much about it besides that it's your country and the country of Lady Oscar and that it's not around anymore. I've asked my mom--she's the head librarian of the main branch of the public library--to check if there's any books with photos and things like that, but knowing her she'll probably grab something really dry and boring. Do you think you could explain stuff about France to me? Are there any symbols, like the ones we use for the districts?"

If anything, his frown deepens and the furrow increases. It's a surprisingly natural look for him, one which she would probably be unsurprised to know that he wears quite frequently, especially while in the Capitol. It isn't that Enjolras goes out of his way to be confused or disappointed by the happenings around him, rather that they very seldom adhere to the stringent guidelines which he chooses to live by.

"At the time of the Revolution, French citizens were required to wear a Tricolour cockade to mark their political allegiance." He says finally, thoughtfully. "It was a symbol of the nation and of the unity of the people and their government."

Which is simplistic of course. When it was introduced Louis Capet had even deigned to wear the cockade if only to appease the people. As a true Republican, the Tricolour holds a certain, almost sacred, meaning to him which is difficult to convey to someone who doesn't know the history of his country. He holds a certain suspicion, of course, that Claudia would be disinterested in a long tirade on the politics of France at the end of the 18th Century. Not many people even in his own time cared for such things either. At least, not as much as he did. "In a way, these cockades were similar to the symbols your people use for the Districts."

Claudia's also pretty excited to be dressing Venus! She'd done really well in the last Games.

Venus usually preps herself a little bit before she lets anyone see her come out of her bedroom, but she's used to being styled and prepped for the spotlight - artists don't like their canvases to have any paint on it. So she appears before Claudia barefaced, in an oversized t-shirt that she slept in, having only brushed her teeth and bothered to wet her hair a little.

Claudia should see exactly what she will be working with - a professional who already knows what a stylist will want. Venus takes a seat on the couch, letting her flip-flops dangle from her toes, posing despite her casual air.

"You're Claudia?" First-name basis.

The stylist--an Asian woman in her mid-twenties--nods. She taps a pen to her lips. "And you're Venus! I'm glad you came prepared. I'm going to start measuring you in a sec, but what I need to know about first are your interests. I want your outfits to reflect you just as much as I want them to look good."

"Well, back home I'm a bit of a big deal." Venus gives a cheeky smile and brushes some of her hair past her ear. "I'm a celebrity and a superhero. I like loud music, fast cars, muscular men."

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Claudia and Her Brand New Job

Initiate Fraysong / Grand Highbabby

Re: Initiate Fraysong / Grand Highbabby

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Re: Initiate Fraysong / Grand Highbabby

Re: Initiate Fraysong / Grand Highbabby

Re: Initiate Fraysong / Grand Highbabby

Re: Initiate Fraysong / Grand Highbabby

no subject

Neophyte Redglare

no subject

no subject

Enjolras

no subject

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no subject

you don't have to reply with the exact words of his explanation, just sum up what he does explain?

But what would be the fun in that?

Venus Dee Milo

Re: Venus Dee Milo

Re: Venus Dee Milo

Re: Venus Dee Milo