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This Is Kanaya Maryams Livejournal
Or It Was But Then It Transformed Into A Dreamwidth When I Wasnt Looking
Im Still Not Entirely Clear On How That Happened

I Have Taken The Courtesy Of Not Speaking In My Blood Color Or The Standard Font To Display Cultural Sensitivity
Though If You Want To Converse In The Fashion To Which I Am Most Accustomed That Would Be Fine
If You Would Like Me Not To Represent My Enunciation Textually That Would Also Be Acceptable Though I Would Prefer Not To All Things Being Equal
It Causes Me Moderate Strain

Anonymous Commenting Is Enabled For The Use Of Anyone Unable To Register An Account Here

They Arent Screened Because That Would Be Somewhat Troublesome For Actually Conducting Conversations With Anonymous Browsers
But The Logging Of Addresses Following The Four-Point Specifications Of This Grubnet Is Off As Well
So I Hope You Are At Comfort

My Profile Contains The Means Of Connecting To Trollian With Me If Desired
Thats All

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He just takes everything and looks at it all with some visible doubt. Especially the stockings, now that he's looking at them up close and personal. While they certainly do a fair job mimicking the pattern on his pants, he is just... not sure about this at all, really.

Well.

The sooner he proves he looks glubbing stupid in this shit, the sooner he can convince Kan to make him something else. Maybe something with a cape. Capes are awesome.

And yes, this means he is just going to strip right in the middle of the room. Modesty? Privacy? Yeah, whatever. Details.

Kanaya taps her foot quietly with a easy, hopeful cadence as she waits for him to finish regarding the garments. Though she would probably not concede to any request for a cape. Capes may be awesome, but Eridan is not indeed of another one. A longcoat? Perhaps. But not another cape. Unless he has even more discretion in fashion than Kanaya has given him cred it for, he has three of them hanging in his closet--

Which is a revered institution into which at this moment she would like to run oh God Eridan WHY. "This was definitely not intended as that sort of lovingly crafted dress!" Kanaya hisses as she runs for the craft block door to secure it. Of course by the time she's there she manages to relax and get her gutterblooded mind out of its customary location. "That is. My goodness, I thought you had a distinct objection to the possibility of someone besides your girlfriends seeing," she points out once she's settled firmly in a position of guard over the potentially treacherous aperture. Because sadly this is still enmeshed as a private and potentially romantic relationship-mending matter in her mind.

"Wwhat do you mean by... Oh don't tell me the door wwas still open." He pauses, shirt tugged up around his chest so he can get it off easily. His abdominal gills are shut tight against the outside air, though the ones on his neck flare with annoyance. His cape and scarf are draped over the back of a nearby chair, and as soon as Kanaya responds? His shirt will be coming the rest of the way off so it can join those accessories.

"Even if it wasn't absolutely anybody could come through." She settles firmly into sitting on the ground with her legs braced hard against the door. "We're not the only people in this asylum, you know. However much it sometimes feels like it." She rests her chin in her hand and drums her fingers on her knee; still resolutely facing in the opposite direction of her boyfriend. She is not giving into the situational comedy, thank you very much.

"Yeah, wwell, wwe're twwo a maybe three people wwho actually matter." It's probably for the best that she is avoiding the situationally comedic aspects of the moment, because two soft clops signal that he's kicked his shoes off, and yes, that zip is what you think it is. "So you're goin' to hawe to forgiwe me not carin' wwho else is here." Which is decidedly all bluster and bravado to cover his embarrassment at forgetting.

"I can't tell if you're talking about the bard or the thief." She snorts. "Maybe the... I can't even think of a way to imply Gokudera and cosmic significance simultaneously. Which is probably for the best since he likely doesn't have any either. I'd really worry if you'd gotten yourself into a situation where you thought he did." She doesn't really know about the actual fight that ocurred between them on February 13th, though she did wonder about them turning out to have slight bruises around the same time.

"The bard, a course. No thieves here that I knoww a." Is he being sarcastic? Isn't he? The world may never know. "An' he's not any sort a significant yet but I'm thinkin' I can get him wwaxin' pitch for me. He shore seemed close to it wwhen he jumped me wwhile I wwas swwimmin' the other day."

He goes to pull on the dress, which is of course signaled by another rustling of fabric, but then... he pauses. "Hey, uh, I don't got to take my underwwear off or nothin' do I? An' don't turn around you need to knoww wwhat type it is you can ask."

Linda is a cruel, cruel bitch. Seriously. He is not a wiggler. Why did she see fit to give him cuttlefish print underwear.

Damn sarcasm inoculation. It's really not healthy at this point. "You should think harder about where most of the Christmas gifts that weren't yours came from," is all she says on the matter of thieves and who might be one before moving on. Hearing about Gokudera introduces her palm to her cephalic surface. "What have I told you about humans and blackrom. We've been pushing our luck fairly hard with auspisticism as it is. Please tell me you're not about to pursue for a kismesis someone who may have literally never heard the word before in his life." That's all there really is to say on the matter.

His question almost gets her to turn reflexively before she recollects the situation and halts herself. "There is definitely no need to deviate from your own private ideas on such a thing at all, let alone share them -- this is set up for a cold date, in case you forgot. Any exposure of such articles of clothing would constitute a drastic failure on my part."

She's had enough of drastic failing.

"Alright, alright. Calm your gills, Kan. Besides wwhich he started it all sand you knoww it because I said he jumped me. I didn't do anythin' at all to him." The idea that Gokudera could have possibly been acting in his moirail's defense is one Eridan refuses to believe, because he knows Andrea is flushed for the guy.

There is more rustling, and shifting of cloth, and the other varied and sundry noises of one getting dressed.

"Okay you can turn around noww."

And he is definitely tugging at the hem of the skirt nervously.

"I'm sure that you didn't. Also that I have gills to calm." She seriously is developing a serious sarcasm problem; but addiction is a powerful thing. (Much like moirallegiance is, regardless of whether the emotions precisely fit that on both sides.)

"Whatever." So when bidden she cautiously stands up and turns and... oh. Oh. Yes, yes, yes, her creation is alive and for once she is here in person to see it and and and. Feelings. Sakura petals are almost visible around him, in her mental vision. That is, er, some Alternian equivalent flower that is a pale shade of gray and not pink. Right.

"Find a reflective surface," is all she says, voice light and breathy with delight.

He smooths a hand down the fabric covering his chest, face revealing his skepticism that his appearance could possibly warrant that sort of reaction. He's certain he looks like a boy in a dress; a sorry, platonically pathetic excuse for a girl, at best. Still, with a sigh, he turns neatly, pivoting on his heel before striding over to the various cubbies and drawers that seem to contain just about everything they could want.

And there, in the third drawer, is a rather large hand mirror.

"Oh fuck..." Yeah, that's appreciative. "Kan this looks like a million boondollars not evven goin' to try to lie to you."

She should probably take the mirror away before he starts primping and preening.

That is precisely what she does --because any kind of additional preening per se she finds unmerited. What she sees is not even an excuse for a girl of any kind, nothing but a boy in a dress --it's staring them both in the cephalic surface. His hair. His makeup. His glasses. He has such a long way to go and, honestly, that way isn't one she has any particular care to see him travel. Her impression is nothing motivated by the aesthetics of his own appearance at all; very selfish in its nature, really. Rather, the sight before her, she's sure, is the key to the alien she loves' affections. Well. Romantically hates, strictly speaking, but that's terminology to work out when she is actually around.

"A thousand boonbonds safe and secure in a troll Swiss financial depository" she confirms as she puts the mirror away again. "Outside of maybe a deeper driving force for our date given the current lack of film being available, I think everything's been accounted for." It's not as if, after all, there's going to be a party or anything. (Time shit sure is weird.)

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[Action] ahahahaha I am the slowest it is me

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DANG IT VAMPIRISM.....

Lol

NEGL, I have wanted Thief to become their equivalent of "huge... witch" for a long time

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..."troll dollars in a troll Swiss bank account": Why Lenga should not tag at 3 in the morning