trans_9 | Multiverse's Next Top Model: I Wanna See You Strut

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Multiverse's Next Top Model: I Wanna See You Strut

The TV flashes with a new message.

Tyrant Mail,

If you want to win, you can't be chicken!

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant

After some time to change into their now-mandatory 8-inch heels, contestants are led to an stiflingly hot arena where 'devoted fans' (i.e. confused people prodded into the auditorium by casting agents) are watching. A giant catwalk, made to look like a barbecue with real flames and coals, rolls out before them. At its feet giant fried chicken-themed thrones hold the judges, all of whom are surrounded by fans buffeting their hair about and keeping them from getting a thick shellack of sweat.

"Contestants!" Jay Emmanuel strides up to them, impossibly-perfect skin still smooth and dry. He may, in fact, be part android. "Let's get you to styling! For your challenge today. You have to embody the spirit. Of fighting animal cruelty by dressing as a couture piece of poultry and strutting your stuff! Get it? Strut?"

The contestants are led away by the stylists, with the knowledge that their number will be at least one fewer by the end of the challenge.

[OOC: I will continue to backtag makeover threads for as long as you like!]

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Contestants are filed backstage and stuffed int these outfits before having their hair and makeup done.

[Make threads, hijack each other, mingle, confess to the camera, so on. If you would like to talk to an NPC please put it in your header.]

The contestants walk the burning hot, smoking runway wearing their feathers and high heels. At the end of the runway, they must pose before returning to the backstage. The charcoal blocks under their shoes are the size of oranges.

[Post and the NPC judges will comment. Feel free to fall, jump off the runway, shoot fire at Tyrant, whatever! Go wild!]

Ruffnut was utterly, utterly confused by all this.

Some various people had tried to explain to her why it was important she wear the heels.

Why it was important she let them do her hair.

Why it was important she not start beating the aid who had come to take her measurments.

But none of it helped in the long run and now she sat at a mirror staring at herself, hair out of it's usual braids, no helmet, no furs or leather.

"Yeah...Stacy picked the wrong girl for looks...maybe if I'm lucky there's some kind of combat round." She sighed and slumped in the seat, "At least they picked a topic I'm good with." She smirked and looked around carefully before reaching into one of the vanity mirrors drawers and drew out a massive bone with some meat on it.

The last time she'd tried to eat some aid had snatched it away from her warning her the grease would make her pours stand out on camera. She had just about electrocuted him for that.

But there were no aids around right now...so far as she knew.

Edited 2011-11-07 05:02 (UTC)

This is stupid. At least, that's what Simon thinks. He probably shares this opinion with a lot of the crew. It wouldn't be so bad, though, if they didn't have to wear the weird shoes. He can barely stand in it, and he feels like he should be temping in Cytomander's army right about now...

Oh well. It's for the good of the ship, right?

Simon takes a breath and wobbles out onto the stage and catwalk, and gets a few steps before he loses his balance, falling over onto the coals with a pained scream or few.

"Fear" was not a word in Guru Clef's vocabulary, but he was... concerned.

"Do you think they'll eat us?" he almost whispered so as to avoid drawing suspicion from the aids. "If we get eliminated, I mean?"

Ruffnut blinked chewing carefully, the thought had not occurred to her.

"I'd like to see em try." She declared. "Bigger things with more teeth have tried to eat me." Which was true, but she was insinuating that she prevented that from happening. It was mostly luck that she hadn't been eaten by a dragon after all these years.

There are certain advantages to no longer having hair, and Cedric's just discovered one of them. With half of the 'hair and makeup' equation removed, he can simply rehearse after his quite ridiculous headpiece is sufficiently fluffed---though he's been told not to wear it quite yet, so his bald head is shining for all to see. And mock.

He's preparing for the 'strutting', wondering whether extra points are awarded for absurdity. How closely should he imitate a chicken? A dying chicken? Is it acceptable to use magic?

"The real challenge, I suspect, is making this look good." Bald, feather skirt, heels? Ugh. He'll focus on movement and skill, then, and hope Harry and company aren't watching from above.

Normally, Caz would say something here. A scathing remark, a pointed quip, some speck of sarcasm or mockery.

In this situation, Cazali couldn't bring himself to do it. All he could do was stare, turn away, and feel the bare minimum emotion required to potentially add up to "pity".

Aya was just frowning at Cedric. He looked more like a Mardi Gras performer than a high class model. How could this make anybody look good? She was stuffed into a similarly ridiculous looking dress that was in this year's "decorative chicken" style. Or at least that's what she thought.

"I think Tyrant wants... what's the word, fierce?"

That stare didn't go unnoticed. Cedric looked after him curiously for a moment. "Something wrong?"

"Right," Cedric nodded, still not sure what to make of things. "Flight of the fierce chicken. Or maybe the fierce death of a chicken as it's slaughtered in the name of a meal?"

He scoffed, but the wheels were turning in his head. "Somehow I don't think she'll like my ideas."

"Just that you look ridiculous. It's sad." Despite the comment (and partially, who it was coming from), it still lacked the venom to be sarcastic or rude. Just...there.

"I mean, you're...bald." Trollkitty's hair may have looked stringy in humanform, but being hairless was...a scary thought, in a weird way.

"Hmm. You never know, she might." All she could do was shrug at this point, Aya would never be able to understand Tyrant and her posse's thought processes in a million years. She moved to sweep her hair out of her face with her hand, but remembered that that was the half bit they shaved off and lowered her hand. Whoops.

"... Did you like your makeover?" The question was asked almost surreptitiously, as if not to be overheard by anybody else.

A chill air began to blow; the grillwork of the runway began to hiss, then frosted over in delicate wintery ice. Like hell Soren was going to walk across a heated barbeque if he could help it. He made his way down the ramp in his feathers and heels, face flushed despite the sudden drop in temperature. At the end of the runway, he struck a pose that was half-real effort, half-sincere wish that everyone in the vicinity would drop dead.

Then he spun on his heel and marched off, letting the flames of the barbeque blaze into life once more.

Cedric shrugged. It was true, but he had to cope with it. "It's not ideal, I'll admit, but it's better than some alternatives I've seen. "

"Unfortunately," Cedric mouthed. No need to get the cameras in on that conversation. When she touched the bald portion of her head, a sympathetic expression flickered across his face.

"She gave you an 'edge' too, huh? It could be worse," he whispered. "At least baldness is natural for some people." But it was clear from his facial expression that he didn't quite think it was natural for him.

The heels, Angie could deal with. The dress wasn't too bad.

She stood staring at the hat, turning it a couple different directions. "I'm not entirely sure how you even put this ON."

"Oh..." Jay covers his mouth, then decides it better to cover his eyes.

Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel leans forward with a sadistic smile threatening to break his stony expression.

"If he can pull through, he'll show remarkable resilience," Tyrant observes.

"Fierce!" Jay exclaims. "He looks like he really does hate us!"

"I believe that glare." Talleyho puts his sunglasses back on, now that the flames are returning to their previous height. "Don't you worry that the ice is a bit of a cheat, though?"

"Who cares about the rules when he puts on a show?" Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel is clearly impressed.

Tyrant writes a little note in her pocketbook.

There is a gasp from the crowd or backstage...somewhere really but an audible gasp as out comes Ruffnut next...and her outfit is on hot! So hot! Literally on fire!

Orange flames crackle cheerfully along the feathers and edges of the outfit, but she's put on her best most confident face, unable to hide the blush in her cheeks (or is that the heat coming off her outfit toasting her skin?)

She moves in sort of a jerky dance, faster then a model strut, spinning so fast at one point that when she comes to a stop at the end of the runway her hat is still spinning. The sudden stop throws her into a bow before she leaves the same way she came out in moves that are either incredibly graceful dance maneuvers, or horribly uncoordinated stumbles and flails of someone who has never worn heels.

By the time she reaches the curtain again, what was once a full dress now ends at a scantily short skirt, the flames having eaten their way up the outfit.

There was a flaming runway. Coals and everything. Smoke and heat. Aya felt like a barbecued chicken more than ever. There was no way she was walking over fire in this outfit. It was just going to burn at this rate and she had standards.

A stage hand attempted to push her onto the stage. But they found that doing so had no effect, for Aya was glowing with an orange energy. She had activated her Barrier skill and was now calling on her Parasite Energy. She really didn't want to use it if she could help it. Those jumping coals and smoke had no effect on her as she proceeded to walk down the runway now, nevermind the fact that she's still surrounded by an orange glow.

She managed to walk down the runway in those heels with no incident, then posed. She just wanted to get out of here. That glowing orange energy burst and flew everywhere, mostly around the judges. It was more pyrotechnics than anything else, but damn did she wish she could do damage with her Parasite Energy again. The barrier reconstituted itself around her and Aya walked back.

"Yeah, an 'edge'. But it's just hair, it will grow back. Worst part is explaining it when we get back." She crossed her fingers as she furtively whispered back to Cedric. Hopefully nobody would ask too many questions when they saw that everyone got altered in some way.

"It doesn't look too bad on you though, I have to admit."

"I might know some spells that'll change the minds of anyone who mocks us," he suggested with a little laugh. Not that he would ever do it. But he'd thought about it.

That last comment seemed to cheer him up. He ran a hand behind his ear, grinning. "Thanks. You don't look so bad either. Not everything can be taken away."

So the other contestants are using magic! That makes things easier, then. Cedric grins, taking the time to quietly cast a Flame-Freezing charm over himself. He can still fall if he's not careful, of course, but he won't get burned. After nearly losing half of his face to a dragon's flame in the Triwizard Tournament, he's not eager to relive that type of injury.

Into the fire and flames he goes. He tries to hold his head high, stand tall and proud, but it's ridiculously difficult in heels. He's rehearsed, and he does manage to make it to the end of the runway, but there he wobbles and gets stuck. One long heel has wedged itself between the blocks of charcoal. A flash of anger---and inspiration---strikes.

With what sounds like an agonized yell, he crouches, writhes in 'pain', unlatches the heels, and flings off both shoes (it's silly to only wear one). Might want to avoid the hot shoes, audience. He makes what would've been a strong pose in any other situation, but here comes off as the death throes of a barbecued chicken.

Such is the life.

"I can't tell if she's dancing or having a convulsion," Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel says.

"It's ah...I have to give her points for keeping on despite the fire." Jay looks like he's stretching to say anything nice.

"I would like her to dance in the finest lace atop a canvas in my salon, covered in oil paints," Talleyho says, apropos of nothing.

Tyrant frowns a bit and takes a note.

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Multiverse's Next Top Model: I Wanna See You Strut

BACKSTAGE

THE RUNWAY

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