nysalogs | . all you have's your axe to grind . closed

Oh. I don't?

_{[She pauses her peeling of garments when she finds her fingers caught by his, pulling them away from her hips to hold them against her chest. Out her arms go as she watches him slide the sleeves over them, the fabric smooth and soft against her skin. With her arms covered she turns as instructed, curious as to how he'll go about securing it shut. So far it feels pretty nice on - comfortable and freeing.]}

[With her back turned him, Takasugi leans forward. His shoulders meet hers as he tugs one side of the kimono over the other, crossing them in the front. Once, with some adjustment, is all it takes to fit her form.

Then comes the cord, held against her waist as he guides it around, his knuckles flush to fabric, overlapping it in the front to circle back to him.

After tying a knot that's firm, but not tight, he steps back to the rest of the ensemble.] Stay still, this won't take long.

[It doesn't take much time at all to wrap fabric, then obi, then cord. With each layer his touch lingers longer, and his attention seems to grow more distant.

Somehow, this has become nostalgic, despite him never really doing this much back home.

With the final knot adjusted, he steps away, allows a path between Diva and the mirror.] Go ahead and look.

Then we'll do your hair.

_{[To Diva's credit she stays rather still, not daring to move an inch as he wraps her in the robe and ties the garment securely to her body. Even with the wrappings around her middle she still feels comfortable in the kimono, unable to resist the urge to flap her arms just a bit.

When she does face the mirror the gasp that escapes her is more than audible. Immediately a grin spreads to her face, fangs peaking out as she does so.]}

It's so...pretty! I feel like a butterfly!

[If Western nobility is anything like high society in Edo, then Diva would be accustomed to others dressing her. She's still, not cooing over the beauty of her sleeves or the feel of silk against her skin - Takasugi assumes the comparison is accurate.

It would have been a pain if she'd fidgeted while he'd dressed her, but the grin she wears now is satisfying.

He looks over her shoulder, circling around to rustle through drawers for a hairbrush.] Mm...

Quite the dangerous butterfly, aren't you? [Not the type with transient beauty, or the sort that thrives in hoards. A radiant monster.]

Sit.

_{[Could butterflies be dangerous? It's a question Diva wants to ask, but feels as if she'll be seen as stupid if she does. Instead she keeps it to herself, focusing on the order she's given instead. For one with the title of 'queen' Diva's awfully good at following orders when she wants to. Then again, she'd been trained to, in a bid to at least rein in some of her more monstrous qualities.

Down she goes, sitting as told, hands folded in her lap.]}

What sort of style are you going to give me?

[Quiet and obedient, Diva wears beauty as if it were made for her. Swathed in fine silk, intricate coloration bold yet fragile, poised in the image of respect, she looks almost like a doll. A ghost-

The vision slows him, nostalgia a weight Takasugi doesn't carry with finesse.

He looks her over, one hand extending to brush some hair from her face, thumb to cheek.] Japanese.

It will suit you. [His hand lingers, a slow caress before he circles back and begins to brush. First to strip tangles, and then to add sheen - the style isn't something he's ever given someone before. But he's watched girls do it themselves, and with a little trial and error, her hair is spun into an updo somewhere between traditional and casual.

Leaning over her shoulder, he reaches for the hairpin to add the final adornment.]

_{[Would it?

It seemed to suit Saya well enough, to the point somehow her twin had managed to integrate herself into Japanese society, even going so far as to attend school. If a Japanese style was good enough for Saya, surely she could pull it off too.

There's a pleased little hum that escapes her as she relaxes into Takasugi's touch, curious as to what she'll look like when he's done. As weird as Takasugi can be, his aesthetics seem to like up with hers more often than not.]}

Well? How is it?

_{[She hasn't looked yet.]}

[Before taking a step back, Takasugi follows the curve of the kimono's collar, stark against pale skin. It's a fragile juxtaposition, reliant entirely on the poise she's upheld this far.

He knows her better to expect her posture to remain impeccable through the day. A wild creature can only contain themselves for so long.

But she wears the ugliness of ruined beauty well, too.]

Mmn- [A hum, satisfied.]

Tell me what you think. [He backs away, the space between her and her mirror now left for Diva to make her own judgement.]

_{[When he steps away Diva takes the opportunity to look at herself in the mirror, standing to get as much of a full length view as she can. She...looks beautiful, the silhouette of the kimono and her pinned up hair suiting her. She gives herself a spin, a look over her shoulder in the mirror at the hairpin, her lips splitting into a grin.]}

I look like a doll. Absolutely gorgeous!

_{[She likes it.]}

[When she stands, the fabric hardly sways. It's wrapped tight, though repeated sudden movements will jostle it a bit loose. Much like the yukata Takasugi usually wears, it could fall open to some degree.

This style is meant for subtle motion, a delicacy that Diva only appears to have.

She's far more dynamic in her expression - of exuberance, of violence - than any traditional beauty.]

You can enjoy yourself all you want. [Wear it for tea, or go out and kill a guy - both would satisfy him.]

Do you want to show him? [Solomon. Who isn't home, but that's what texts are for.]

Solomon?

_{[Who else would Takasugi be referring to?]}

I want to! I want to show everyone. Reign, Atsushi, JJ...I want them to see how beautiful I look, Shinsuke.

[That's quite the list, and none of them are familiar to him. If there had been just one additional recipient, Takasugi may have asked about them, but he doesn't want to hear Diva rave about every suitor who comes to her doorstep.]

Heh, I'm sure they'll all adore it.

Though, they won't be surprised. [Flattery, of the more subtle sort. He takes out his device, framing her on the screen - a test of lighting - before lowering it.]

I'll leave the pose up to you. [A classical portrait style would suit the kimono best, but she may be almost unrecognizable in such a static state.]

You don't think they'll be surprised?

_{[Maybe not by her beauty, but the outfit was certainly a deviation from her usual norm. It's easy enough to choose a pose, used to having to sit for portraits in the past. She opts to sit on the edge of the end of her bed, the canopy curtains draped elegantly behind her. She sits like a proper lady should, although her expression is one that gives away too much delight to the camera lens.]}

What do you think? Do I look presentable?

[She looks like she's barely stifling a laugh, her lips wavering and twitching. In the first picture he takes, she's absolutely terrifying. Eyes too wide, a hint of teeth.

He'll send that one to Solomon.]

Relax.

Smile if you want to. [There's no holding to traditional style anyway, given her features, so why create a facsimile of it.]

_{[Maybe Solomon'll print it off and stick it on the fridge.

She's told to relax and so she does her best to, letting her expression fall into one that's a bit more refined and reserved. Her smile is far smaller, mouth closed with just a hint of fang peeking out.

Perhaps that'd do?]}

[He hadn't expected restraint, when she's bidden to do as she pleases. To relax, and abandon decorum. Something more akin to the wide, hungry grin she'd wore when he'd run into her, covered in blood and feeding.

Or something as genuine - not picturesque - as the previous shot.

She impresses him, and with a hum, he snaps a few more pictures. They're sent to her device immediately.] Show whoever you want.

I'm sure they'll all be happy to see you. [Clad in clothing he'd chosen, his interest in her marked, ever so subtly.]

Who wouldn't be happy to see me?

_{[Ah, her cocky nature is showing. She leans back, relaxing her pose into something far more natural and fitting of her true nature.]}

I'm gorgeous. You've just made me even more so.

[It's endearing. Takasugi cocks his head, snapping a single picture of that relaxed state and sending it along with the rest.

It isn't that she looks better at ease - she's always beautiful.]

Shouldn't you be thanking me, then?

[He approaches to lean near her, one knee on the bed bearing all of his weight while simply looks at her. Eyes skimming her jawline, her lips, as carefully as a caress.]

_{[Well...what he's saying isn't exactly that left field, is it? Nodding she leans forward slighting, curious as to what his answer will be.]}

How do you think I should be thanking you then? Would words really be enough for a man like you?

[Close enough for breath to mingle, there's a simple implication by what they're both saying. A relationship of give and take that so many men and their women enjoy...

Isn't what Takasugi's interested in.

When he watches her chest rise and fall, his eye gets lost in the intricate pattern of the kimono.

She's made an oddly perceptive observation. Takasugi hums, raising a hand only to tuck a stray lock of hair away before leaning back.] Words, no.

Your song, however... [He'd take a melody - this was a gift after all, not an attempt to wring a favor out of the woman.

She isn't so honorable.]

. all you have's your axe to grind . closed

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