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Wand 48
9" Hazel, Banshee Hair
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Hogwarts Alumni (Slytherin)

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Oct 11 2017, 09:32 PM

Octavia would not be late this time.

She'd started earlier in the day so that she could ensure that, starting with a hydrating bath filled with oils and herbs. Body stain tended to exaggerate dry skin, not that she tended to have any of that. Dying herself blue from hair to skin was another adventure, one that took consummate patience and some over-painting in order to make sure it was exactly even. Then there was the shading to emphasize the ridges of her collarbone and sunken face, the charms to make a leg, one set of ribs, and arm look just bone, a crown of dried flowers to pin just so, darkened brows curved upward and peony pink lips, deconstructed curls free to roam around her, and the dress she'd ripped, aged, and shredded until it looked centuries old.

She was nervous, so she went overboard with her outfit. Where before her armour might have been to don designer and slick on red lips, now she wanted to impress. Halloween had always been a series of gowns, any array of princess, queen, duchess, empress, or angel being in her approved line-up. Not that her mom would be anywhere near this event, but surely she couldn't complain about Octavia dressing as a bride?

It was just a Halloween event.

Still, there was something new and uncertain to this evening that Octavia didn't know how to categorize. Yes, it was a party. Yes, it was public and there would be people they knew there. But he'd said 'just you and I'. Did he mean just Cruz and Octavia? Was this an actual date? Were people not nervous on first dates?

As Asteria helped her lace up the back of the corset, Octavia knew there was one huge difference between herself and the character she was visually becoming.
do not go gentle into that good night/rage, rage against the dying of the light.
CRUZ BELLO
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Oct 12 2017, 11:00 PM

Strange.

Cruz almost didn’t recognize himself in the mirror overlooking his chest of drawers. There was a curious lightness to his features, even gaunt and pale as they’d been painted post mortem. Slender digits splayed across polished wood, Cruz leaning into the looking glass.

He looked every bit the part of Victor Van Dort in feature, brows angled in perpetual anguish and a pallor that stood in stark contrast to slick ebony hair. Even the sumptuous moue of his mouth had a sterner line to it as if to have thinned under extended duress. Yet, something evaded him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Blinking for several moments, Cruz’s gaze drifted from feature to attire in a pendulum of critique until he realized that he simply looked much too alive. The peculiar lightness imbued a certain gleam to his eyes and brought the beginnings of a flush to his cheeks that most certainly did not become a man in the Land of the Dead.

For once, he did not know how to remedy his predicament.

Scuffling by his feet drew his attention, a certain someone tangling themselves in the laces of his fine shoes. He abandoned the quest to look more like his character’s likeness, deciding that he would look perfectly in place next to his date.

His date. The idea itself seemed to take flight just behind his sternum, flapping papery wings in a dizzying dance. He felt silly at becoming so…amiss at this notion. Yet, he allowed himself to turn it over in his head a few more times.

His date.

Cruz bent to retrieve the little trespasser at his feet.

Ven aqui, gatito, He said warmly, scooping a bundle of spotted fur into his hands. Gazing at him with not a speck of apology on his leonine face, Cruz’s gift to Octavia seemed to possess the very same attitude his new mother did. Indeed, shameless blue blinked up at him as tiny claws reached for something new to worry.

He was too busy with the new tenant of their home to realize how quickly he spanned the distance from his room to hers.

All at once, he was shifting the kitten to one hand and raising to knock with the other.

“Octavia? You have a visitor.”

Let's play the blame game. I love you, more.
Wand 48
9" Hazel, Banshee Hair
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Hogwarts Alumni (Slytherin)

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Oct 14 2017, 04:03 PM

Alright.

The last pulls of corset strings were tied off behind her, Asteria making her way out once Octavia had established she didn't need any more assistance. The character did have a veil, but she felt like adding more fabric would just hinder her from doing other things at this party - and besides, many people would be wearing much less. She didn't want to cover up the way the tattered dress opened to share glamoured skin at her ribs and sliced high up her thigh. It was positively inappropriate.

She loved it.

With every piece of her ensemble complete, Octavia finished inspecting herself and glanced at the clock on her armoire. Not only had she managed to get ready in time for their arranged time of departure, but she was actually early.

Which was a bit of a problem, wasn't it? She couldn't fuss with her makeup effects or she'd start nitpicking everything, and she couldn't do anything work-related because she would get entrenched in it, and she certainly couldn't go bother Cruz to see if he were ready because he never did that to her, and-

"Octavia?"

Relief flooded through her system as her derailing thought process was interrupted by the very person she was thinking about. Breathe. It wasn't like she was about to head into anything life-threatening or emotionally draining. It was a party. With her fiancee. No big deal.

It felt like a very big deal.

Octavia smoothed her hands over her dress and moved to open the door, wondering just who could possibly be visiting. She hadn't made any appointments, made it clear to her assistant that she wouldn't be accepting calls or owls, hadn't told anyone but Luka and Glo that she was going to this Halloween party - and only because she had planned on going with them... oh god, was it her mother? Her mother did have some sort of sixth sense, knowing when Octavia was doing things she wouldn't approve of.

But when the door swung open, it was only Cruz standing in front of her. Cruz, in his pallor and immaculate dress as always, now just a little more time period appropriate.

"Victor." Octavia greeted, smiling before she could help herself. The visitor was likely standing at the door, but they could wait a moment longer; she wanted to take in the costume. Was he wearing the gold band?

It was with no small amount of surprise that Octavia found herself looking not at gold metal but at a precious little face with shockingly blue eyes and fur with brown rosettes - like a leopard. Every single part of her melted when it meowed, a high-pitched, sweet thing in direct opposition to the tiny saber fangs.

"What's this?" She asked, her eyes flicking up at Cruz but being inescapably drawn back to the kitten. Had he found it outside, abandoned? She was already considering tactics to convince him to let her keep it. Was it one of the staff's, and he was just on his way to return it but stopped to let her know someone was here for her?

Octavia was the child who had asked for a pony - and gotten a stable full of horses. She'd wanted unicorns, and a herd had been purchased on a reservation in her name. Later on, she'd wanted a dolphin - so a rescue had been built for her to enjoy. But she'd asked for a kitten just once, and it was not a wish that had been granted. In fact, the resulting explosion and lecture had been so severe that Octavia had not asked for anything else for months after. Infernal things, her mother had called cats. Food for the people who could not afford caviar.

Her cheeks still warmed seeing the little ball of fur in Cruz's hand, her tongue just begging to coo to it.
do not go gentle into that good night/rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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