Multiverse's Next Top Model: Shoot Somebody Who Outdrew You

[cityship]

[OOC: Backdated to before System Shock.]

The TV lights up in La Casa Smize.

Two contestants remain. Now you must fight to the death to become the Multiverse's Next Top Model.

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant Banks
Disclaimer: Please remember that Multiverse's Next Top Model, Tyrant Banks, Modelesque Entertainmet, and all associates and producers do not encourage violence between contestants unless it boosts ratings and long-term viability for the models in question.

Rachel and Ruffnut are then ushered to their final runway challenge and photoshoot.

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BEHIND THE SCENES

[cityship]

[Any threading between Rachel and Ruffnut, without NPC interruption, goes here. Feel free to set it up however you like! Chatting in La Casa, backstage, etc.]

THE PHOTOSHOOT

[cityship]

Jay gives each of the girls a big, invasive hug. He smells vaguely like coconut oil and suntan lotion, not to mention hair gel. Then he scoots them off to hair and makeup.

The shoot itself should appeal to both models, as they're to dress as warrior princesses with shields, breastplates and....miniskirts. And somehow they're supposed to look like warriors with their midriffs bared and while selling CoverGirl lip gloss and pouting sexily.

But surely these two young ladies can manage that.

[Tag in and set up your own subthreads. I'll tag back with NPCs.]

THE RUNWAY

[cityship]

The models are shooed off to the backstage, still in their warrior regalia, where they will find that the runway...is actually a racetrack.

And they're to be in bumper cars.

With jousting swords.

To be aimed at each other.

The judges sit atop golden thrones. Talleyho's muumuu drapes down the steps almost to the runway. Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel is practically salivating. Jay joins them and rubs his hands together with glee.

Tyrant sips white wine from a golden skull. "Walk." Or scoot. Whatever.

Make it fierce, girls.

[Ruffnut and Rachel, tag each other like mad!]

THE JUDGING

[cityship]

The judges sit upon their thrones, which seem to get bigger and golder and more filigreed with each different judging. Tyrant's skull-cup has apparently been swapped out for an entire skeleton, which clinks against the floor when she drinks from it.

[Tag and the judges will deliver their verdict.]