primrosella | Quest 245

Quest 245

Oh, rats, it seems it's one of those weekends again, just the same as ever.

...Though come to think of it, we didn't have one of these weekends last month, did we? I do usually try to keep track of them as best I can, whether it's on the weekend itself or on the Monday just after, which seems to be one of the most constant things around here--that the Monday after a weekend like this will never have a curse on it, as though it's meant to be a respite after a whole weekend of trouble. And most every month I say the same thing--that it's one of those weekends again--but now that I think about it, I don't recall saying so last month. Did we miss one, along the way?

Last month was rather strange in itself, though, since we don't often have curses one right after the other, either. And of course, a random weekend like this is two days of curses, one right after the other, so perhaps the two have something to do with each other, after all. It's something to think about, in any case.

The good news is, I seem to have drawn a rather harmless curse today, and one that I've had before, though not...er, precisely in this sense. I do think I look quite nice, though, even if black isn't exactly my color of choice. And of course, the hat is just lovely as well. I suppose I'll have to take care not to let any children knock it off with snowballs, though, won't I? I hear that's rather one of the hazards of having a hat like this, after all.

~~The bad news is, I think I know exactly whose clothes these are, which means--~~

Oh, and I know it's a bit late, but thank you again to everyone who came to the arcade earlier this week! I had a lovely time, and it was great fun seeing all of you. It's always a fine thing to take time out and enjoy oneself, isn't it? And it's always so easy to focus on the bad things in life, so it's good to stop and remember once in a while to look at the good ones, too. And I'm so very glad for that.

Arthur, I know we'd planned for a meeting today, and I've been looking forward to it very much; I do hope you'll forgive that I'm dressed a bit...unusually, today. And of course, I hope you haven't found yourself cursed today either--though if you have, it's no trouble at all to arrange a different time, of course. As I mentioned earlier, the Mondays that follow these sorts of weekends are usually guaranteed to be free of curses. Or at least, as much as anything can be guaranteed in a place like the City.

And Miss Philomena, when you have a moment, I'd like very much to show you the--well, I think it's a rune, but I'm not quite sure, actually. I suppose it might be a sigil or a hieroglyph, just the same, but in any case, it's quite odd and I'd very much like to know what it is.

[OOC: And the name of the game is Wardrobe Switch! Specifically, she's traded clothes with Cain today, which means she's running around looking something like this. Fab Victorian gear, ho!]

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[Fortunately for Nigel, Rosella's still in her room at the moment, shuffling through piles on the floor and rummaging around in search of the box of clothes she'd packed away after Duo had left. She's far enough into the mess that she can't feasibly get to the door, but she does stand upright and turn halfway, looking in that direction at the sound of the knock.]

Nigel? Oh, er...no, not at all. Do come in, if you'd like. I'm just looking for something, at the moment.

[ There's a hesitation, the door opening only a little farther but not far enough for Nigel to stick his -- well, her -- head in. No, he remains stubbornly out in the hall, though he does raise his voice loud enough for Rosella to be able to tell the difference. ]

Yes, well, I was wondering. If it'd be too much to ask if I could borrow some clothes.

Oh, dear, have you found yourself switched today, as well? It's a bit easier said than done to get out of them if you're cursed into it, but you--

[She begins absentmindedly, still half-focused on her search, but then the notable difference in pitch sinks in and she stops, blinking in surprise.]

...Oh, dear.

[ With the proverbial cat out of the proverbial bag, Nigel pushes the door all the way open so that it swings on its hingest as far as it will go. Which, given the state of Rosella's room, isn't that far. Still, it's enough for Nigel(la) to step inside. The girl version of Nigel has hiss dark hair and strong jaw as well as his piercing blue eyes. Unsurprisingly, she's also wearing Nigel's clothes. ]

I suppose that's a valid reaction, yes.

[Fortunately, Nigel's transformation isn't the first one of its kind that Rosella has heard about today, so the surprise hits her marginally less than it would otherwise. And there's something about the way he carries himself, the look in his eyes, that makes it clear it's still Nigel. Just...a bit unlike himself for the day.

But of course, Rosella in her top hat and Victorian suit isn't one to talk; she's a bit unlike herself today, herself.]

Goodness, that is a problem. Er...that is, of course, you're more than welcome to borrow some clothes. I should still have some that haven't been taken away by the curse, though they may not be...er, quite what you're used to. Would you rather something modern, or...?

[ Nigel looks down at himself and the fact that, despite his shirt being too long in arm, his newly-acquired chest doesn't seem to want to cooperate in keeping the buttons properly buttoned. ]

Something that will make these a little less unruly, thank you.

[ He sounds a bit miserable to have to admit it. ]

Here, let me just see a moment, then.

[And she promptly abandons her original search, hopping gracefully through the piles on her floor and over to the closet with practiced ease, where she proceeds to disappear inside and bustle around a bit more.]

Oh! Good, it only took the--well, that's not too much trouble, certainly.

[And shortly thereafter she emerges, with this outfit (http://i669.photobucket.com/albums/vv60/Fortunes_Wings/Polychromatic/cannes_102.jpg) tucked under one arm, and this one (http://i669.photobucket.com/albums/vv60/Fortunes_Wings/Polychromatic/fantasy_red_wedding_dress.jpg) on its hanger in her other hand.]

It seems it only took my usual clothes, not my...er, special ones. Which would suit you more, the modern things or the dress?

[ Nigel drifts forward, perhaps a little preoccupied by the dress. Not that he has any intentions of wearing it, mind you, he's just temporarily distracted by it. As regal as it is, it reminds him of Rosella's station, of what she is and what he could represent to her. He stares at the garment and then at Rosella in that Nigel-esque way of his before remembering he was asked a question in the first place.

He breaks away, turning his attention elsewhere. ]

I'd rather not have to be laced into my clothes this morning, Rosella, if it's all the same to you. Modern, please.

I'd thought as much, yes.

[She gives the modern clothes a light toss--since it's faster to throw them across the room than it is to try to navigate the floor, alas--and disappears back into the closet, putting her dress away and retrieving a few other bits to go with it: a pair of heeled sandals and a pair of hair elastics.]

I'm not sure if the shoes will fit, since they're made for me, but you might try them, anyway. Oh, and you may have an easier time of it with your hair braided back, as well.

[ Nigel is fiddling with the clothes when Rosella once again emerges from the recesses of her closet. He has unfolded each article provided, holding it out to assess at arm's length like some profound artifact, newly unearthed. The jeans earn most of his skepticism. Was he really going to fit in these?

An absent hand reaches to touch his hair. There was quite a lot of it and it was already becoming unruly. ]

I'm afraid I'm not familiar with those sorts of things. [ Not entirely true. He'd spent so many days and nights as a little boy and then as a young man watching his mother fuss with her hair. ]

[She hesitates, leaving a sort of awkward pause hanging in the air between them, and then finally just decides to forge bravely onward.]

I could do it for you, if you'd like. It'd only take me a minute.

[As she makes her way back across the room again, coming over nearer to him.]

[ Nigel is unaware of anything awkward passing between the two of them, but mostly because he's too busy staring at Rosella (which for her probably succeeds in making things even more awkward). His hand is still in his hair, a finger now twirling a lock around a knuckle like twine around a stick. When he speaks his voice is mostly flat, though there is something like curiosity in his eyes. ]

You'd do that for me.

[ A statement that is, by nature, a question as well. ]

It's a bit harder than it sounds to manage, honestly. There's always a part right in the middle that's tricky, when you have to switch how you hold it, and it's easy to have it come out with a bump if one isn't careful.

[But she nods, slightly more resolved in her conviction to help, even if the staring is--as usual--beginning to bother her.]

But yes, I could. In just a braid down your back, if you'd like, or I can put it up for you, if you'd rather not have it long at all.

[ It's strange to Nigel, just how accommodating Rosella can be at times, just how kind. As unused to kindness as he is, there are times when he doesn't know what to do with it. For a moment he seems at odd ends, looking down at his feet which he realizes for the first time are still bare. ]i>

I think I would appreciate that, Rosella, yes, [ he then says in an oddly quiet voice. ] Whatever you think is best.

Here, then. Both shirts have buttons, so I can put it up right now and it won't get mussed when you have to change.

[She motions for him to sit on the bed as she retrieves the hairbrush left on her nightstand.]

You'll have to sit so I can reach the top, I'm afraid, but it'll only take a minute or two once I get started.

[ Nigel looks at the bed and, with his mind, negotiates a path for himself to it before actually moving towards it. When he drops down onto the edge, it's with his back held bone-straight -- more out of fear of popping a button than maintaining good posture. ]

I used to watch my mother braid her hair, [ he says, like he's confiding some great secret. ] When I was a child. She'd never let me help her.

[It doesn't occur to her at first the real motive behind Nigel's excellent posture; she assumes it's that he's still unused to this body he's found himself in (which is somewhat true) and that he's not sure of the proper way to sit when having one's hair done, so he's rigid out of an attempt to make things easy on her. So she almost mentions that he's welcome to relax, but then decides that it's not worth calling attention to, since it'll be resolved quickly enough, anyway.

His hair is thicker to the touch than she'd been expecting, and somewhat mussed from general activity, so she starts with the brush and begins to efficiently work out any tangles, smoothing it straight to make the braiding easier.]

I did, too. Mine always wears hers up, like a proper lady ought to, so she'd do hers in the mirror while I watched from the bed, and then she'd help me with mine after, so I could go play without it flying all over the place.

[ The sensation reminds Nigel of when he was a boy and his mother would attempt to straighten his clothes and smooth his hair just before dinner, when his father would come home from work. The association with Rosella is undeniably pleasant and so Nigel actually smiles to himself for a moment, listening to the princess recount her memory with a kind of private satisfaction. ]

I think I would make a very poor proper lady, [ he says, lightly. ]

[She laughs gently.]

Well, perhaps so, but at least we can help you to look like one, today.

[After a few minutes of work, she sets aside the brush and steps back to appraise her work, biting thoughtfully at her lip as she tries to decide how best to go about the next step. Two braids, she eventually decides, and then he can pin them up or leave them down as he likes, whichever will suit him best. And so she carefully begins to part his hair down the middle, separating it out as equally as she can.]

How did she like to wear hers, your mother? Pinned up?

[ Nigel shuts his eyes for a moment, if only to better picture the memory in his mind's eye. His mother, there, seated at her vanity and him (still a young boy) seated at her feet or (a young man) silhouetted in the doorway behind her. His hands twitch instinctively once where they're resting, folded in his lap. ]

One braid, down the back. The end of which she'd pin to the top of her head. It made her hair look a bit like the mouth of a seashell. I would hold up a small hand mirror for her so she could see.

I think yours is a bit too long for that, I'm afraid, but we'll make it look nice, just the same.

[Which isn't to imply that she thinks he wants to be taken for pretty, today, and it only occurs to her afterward that he might take it as such. From Rosella's perspective, it's merely a question of looking one's best, for whatever definition of "best" fits most at the time.

She makes quick work of finishing his part, then takes up one side and divides it into strands, beginning to whip it into a tight, efficient braid.]

She sounds very nice, your mother.

[ Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nigel is vaguely aware that this isn't normal. To be a girl when the day before you'd been a boy, for one thing. But then also to have simply accepted it, at least enough to allow one's roommate to go about braiding one's hair. And then to reminisce over the memory of one's dead mother on top of that -- a mother that he'd murdered himself, no less. ]

He was very nice. Very kind. Too generous, I think, for myself and my father to deserve her. [ A pause, long and drawn-out the way Nigel's pauses usually are. But this one is pointedly different because there is the hint of regret to it. A sentiment he's never truly expressed before. ] You remind me of her, you know. With all your kindness.

[When she finishes the first braid, she secures the ends with one of her elastics and then moves on to the other, repeating the motions.]

I'm...very flattered you think so. It's quite an honor, reminding you of someone you care about so very much.

[ Nigel turns his head slightly to watch Rosella has she goes about braiding the second half of his hair. Unlike the staring of a moment ago, this time the look in his eyes is different; it is not flatly unnerving or openly predatory. Just quiet inquisitiveness, something akin to boyishness which slips from his expression when he finally looks away. He's silent for a while before saying: ]

My father killed her.

[It's easy enough to work around the turning of his head, and it doesn't bother her much when he does; however, at the spoken revelation, the braid drops from her fingers as she jumps, startled. Of all the things she might've been expecting--]

He what?

action; | what is this i don't even

action; | clearly it is a sign of bffery on nigel's part.

action; | nigella and rosella.

action; | i just died a little inside

action; | that is what i am here for

action; | it's a good kind of hurt when you're around bb

action; | it is so good to have you back

action; | darling it is SO SO GOOD to be back <3

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