[ you don't own me ] - [ closed, in progress ]
Characters: Shapeshifted!Throne child_proteus as Hakuteiken snobbiest, Kazahana snowburned
Date/Time: Thursday, November 20th, early evening
Location: The Wilderness, somewhere on the Strip
Rating: PG-13 (for language?)
Summary: Throne has managed to shapeshift into Hakuteiken of the Yellow Team after witnessing an exchange between Bastet and Hakuteiken. With the intention of picking off Yellow Team members Trojan Horse style, he accidentally runs into Kazahana, completely ignorant of the fact that they know one another, let alone that they're supposed to be married. WTF-ery ensues as Throne tries not to blow his cover.
It was late. Well, not late yet, but getting there and Throne was hungry. The sun was setting over the tops of some of the hotels farther down the wide stretch of lights and asphalt that Throne somehow knew was called "the Strip". He was uncomfortable; he didn't very much like this body and the fact that this already somewhat uncooperative body was stuck inside even less cooperative paintball gear made him feel stiff and gawkish and sweaty. Oh god -- he just wanted to shift out and head back to the hotel. Maybe order twice as much room service that was necessary and shower and bitch and moan to Want about how sometimes other people's body felt just wrong to wear and not in an ethical sense.
He was currently hovering in the doorway of some kind of modern-day reinterpretation of a penny arcade, one shoulder slumped against the frame as he balanced his paint gun on his hip. It wasn't the right body posture at all, but whatever he was tired and not really in the mood and a quick scan up and down the street was enough to appease whatever half-worries he had flaring up in the back of his mind. Crouching down to rest his gun on the ground for a minute, he tugged at the rubber band around his wrist and tried to pull back the long black hair that this Hakuteiken guy had. "Course you had to choose a guy with like shimmery, flowing Pantene Pro-V hair or whatever," he muttered to himself, immediately realizing as soon as he words left his mouth that he actually had no idea what that meant. The way he said it, of course, implied that it wasn't entirely a good thing, and the fact that it seemed to keep getting in the way just annoyed him indefinitely. He had half a mind to shift right there, but he was hoping to perhaps run into somebody on his way back to Caesars so, instead, he straightened up once again, and carefully made his way down the Strip. Against his better judgment, he paused once in the shadow of a taxi stand to watch one lavish hotel's fountain perform some strange choreographed water-spitting routine to dramatic music. Throne kept his finger, however, on the trigger of his paintgun, which he kept braced against his side. In between passages in the score, he looked around just to make sure there were no other players in the near vicinity.
With a tiny toss of his head, he flipped his loose ponytail off of his shoulder and to his back. "God, I hate this dude's hair," he muttered and crinkled his nose. "Maybe I should meet him sometime just so I can tell him to get a friggin haircut."
Throne frowned.
Date/Time: Thursday, November 20th, early evening
Location: The Wilderness, somewhere on the Strip
Rating: PG-13 (for language?)
Summary: Throne has managed to shapeshift into Hakuteiken of the Yellow Team after witnessing an exchange between Bastet and Hakuteiken. With the intention of picking off Yellow Team members Trojan Horse style, he accidentally runs into Kazahana, completely ignorant of the fact that they know one another, let alone that they're supposed to be married. WTF-ery ensues as Throne tries not to blow his cover.
It was late. Well, not late yet, but getting there and Throne was hungry. The sun was setting over the tops of some of the hotels farther down the wide stretch of lights and asphalt that Throne somehow knew was called "the Strip". He was uncomfortable; he didn't very much like this body and the fact that this already somewhat uncooperative body was stuck inside even less cooperative paintball gear made him feel stiff and gawkish and sweaty. Oh god -- he just wanted to shift out and head back to the hotel. Maybe order twice as much room service that was necessary and shower and bitch and moan to Want about how sometimes other people's body felt just wrong to wear and not in an ethical sense.
He was currently hovering in the doorway of some kind of modern-day reinterpretation of a penny arcade, one shoulder slumped against the frame as he balanced his paint gun on his hip. It wasn't the right body posture at all, but whatever he was tired and not really in the mood and a quick scan up and down the street was enough to appease whatever half-worries he had flaring up in the back of his mind. Crouching down to rest his gun on the ground for a minute, he tugged at the rubber band around his wrist and tried to pull back the long black hair that this Hakuteiken guy had. "Course you had to choose a guy with like shimmery, flowing Pantene Pro-V hair or whatever," he muttered to himself, immediately realizing as soon as he words left his mouth that he actually had no idea what that meant. The way he said it, of course, implied that it wasn't entirely a good thing, and the fact that it seemed to keep getting in the way just annoyed him indefinitely. He had half a mind to shift right there, but he was hoping to perhaps run into somebody on his way back to Caesars so, instead, he straightened up once again, and carefully made his way down the Strip. Against his better judgment, he paused once in the shadow of a taxi stand to watch one lavish hotel's fountain perform some strange choreographed water-spitting routine to dramatic music. Throne kept his finger, however, on the trigger of his paintgun, which he kept braced against his side. In between passages in the score, he looked around just to make sure there were no other players in the near vicinity.
With a tiny toss of his head, he flipped his loose ponytail off of his shoulder and to his back. "God, I hate this dude's hair," he muttered and crinkled his nose. "Maybe I should meet him sometime just so I can tell him to get a friggin haircut."
Throne frowned.