Scene Listing || Scene Schedule || Scene Schedule RSS
Owner Pose
Ishirou The day of destiny is here.  Today...

JUDGEMENT has come.  Are you satisfied with your choices?  Have you made all of the best choices?  Are you willing to back out of anything you're inflicting on this twink?  

The stage is not a humble affair.  Gold, with sparkling gems and brilliant lights.  A runway that comes down the middle and seating around it so just everyone can look at Ishirou.  The contestants, and judge, all have a seat up the front of course.  The table for the judge also has a microphone, and the ability to mute the contestant microphones.  

POD is on the stage right now, in their announcer setup.  This is a cute hat tilted on one side of its head, with a small bowtie.  

-Hello, tonight will be the judging of the outfits you have provided.  Do not worry, your entry into the tournament is assured by paying this entrance fee.  However, the winner of this will be allowed to see their outfit on Ishirou when they announce said tournament.  We would like you to welcome our judge for this evening.-

It does not actually announce them, letting them announce themselves...but a spotlight does shine on them.  
Ozhira     For all exterior observations, Ozhira looks like a relatively ordinary, well-dressed and very tired girl right now. This lighting exaggerates the dark lines under their eyes as they sit patiently in the seat meant for them. There isn't much in the way of fidgeting or the like, but they do manage to look nervous just by being around so many others at once.

    The POD announces the festivity. In response, the Beast lifts one hand and wiggles fingers in a little wave. A judge is mentioned and the creature leans forward to look past other bodies, towards where this new person is expected to appear.
Petra Soroka     Petra is certain that she hasn't made the best choices. Not when it comes to Ishirou's outfits, certainly not with everything that's happened since. It's with a little chagrin that she actually shows up to the judging to witness the fruits of her spontaneous outfit choices for Ishirou, the brief humor of submitting them long since passed.

    The idea of wearing her flowery overalls to sit in on what's technically a fashion contest that she's participated in seems ludicrous, but after a short while deliberating over other outfits, she gives up and wears them anyways. Honestly, she phoned this whole thing in, and it's getting to be too much. Petra slinks towards the contestants row in her typical outfit, swallowed up by her bomber jacket and triangle scarf, and seeming to shrink into it further to retreat from the gaudy wealth of the stage.

    Approaching the seats, Petra feels a flash of vestigial cafeteria anxiety. Sitting down first means that people will filter around her to avoid being in the seats next to her, but waiting until others find their seats means she's making a conscious choice about who to be near, which might get rejected. But, actually, since Hibiki and Miku are going to be here, she reasons that she probably has nothing to worry about, and sits down in one of the chairs, absentmindedly chewing on her knuckle as she waits for the show to start.
Kale Hearthward Kale is here. He's dressed up a bit, wearing a nice suit.

He has with him a plus one - a hummingbird (with a back-strapped spear) who's not nearly as dressed up, and also looks mostly bored.

When Petra makes her appearance, Kale makes eye contact with her for a moment, but doesn't say anything - and his expression remains carefully blank.
Wisconsin     Both Wisconsin and Denver are out in the audience, in their Sunday Best. That means Eagle Union Navy Dress Blues. Both ladies look crisp and sharp and well polished, as they wait for the awards ceremony to really kick off.

    Denver leans over and whispers to Wisky. "...I'm not sure how well your casual outfit worked, you know. The vest and a good silk tie never goes wrong."
    Wisconsin sniffs and whispers back. "Just because you wanna dress everyone up to look like Guy Madison doesn't mean my stuff is bad."
Futaba Nuki Was spending so much money on buying an outfit for someone else to wear a smart financial decision? Not at all. Was it worth it to join in on the festivities surrounding putting Ishirou into something snazzy or stupid? Absolutely.

At least, it is for Futaba, and she's seated at the contestants' table with her legs pulled up to her chest so she can rock her seat back and forth while listening to the POD's announcement work and watching the rest of the competition coming in. She's got some second thoughts about her own entry ever since hearing about how much seems to be riding on a side-aspect of this whole thing, but not because she's worried about her own entry.

No, she's just worried that she didn't make hers flashy enough. Alas, it's a little too late to change that now, but she can't complain about having a front row seat. Spotting some familiar faces from the Closet, Futaba stops rocking her chair long enough (but still has it precariously balanced on two legs) to wave broadly at Ozhira, Petra, and Kale. "Hey! Glad to see you again. Ready for the show?"

She looks a little too excited for it, like she's hoping for something to happen.
Metaphor A return visitor. Adorned in the same outfit she wore last week (tasteful monochromatic semiformal ( BLACK VEST BLACK SKIRT / ROLLED WHITE SLEEVES )), Metaphor sits in her front-row seat; vision-obstructing, if not for the platform being raised. Hunch slightly regardless. She's done her best to mentally keep the primary event separated from the catfights of the secondary, and her body language brims with excitement (even past instinct); in no small part due to the slew of compliments levied towards her work. A knee bounces, back pulled forward from seat. Tension of a different variety. Ignore competition-adjacent complications.

She's aimed to take up a seat next to Father Berislav, but in that slightly roundabout way that one does when they don't want to give an impression. Wait for them to sit. Wait for someone else to sit. Take the chair, not too hurriedly. Ignore for three, two, one - a whisper:

    "Oh, Berislav. How, uh, goes-"

Interrupted by the start of POD's explanation, she waits through it, anticipation mounting. Gaze shifts from POD, to some indistinct location to the side of POD; once more. Waiting to speak.

A whisper in the short interim between announcement and judge introduction. "I didn't get a chance to see many of the other outfits! I hope they're all-"

Someone passes by, and she stops again. Just wait. Not important regardless.

A knee continues to bounce.
Hibiki Tachibana >Are you satisfied with your choices? Have you made all of the best choices?

    Judging from the looks on a certain pair's faces, absolutely. Miku is positively aglow in the absurd opulence of the stage and the dramatic opener that's been prepared, and if there's no one else already prepping a starting applause for the judge, you can rest assured she's going to be on the job.

    Hibiki, though less able to hide the fact she hasn't forgotten a bit of the mess from last time, seems like she's still looking forward to this plenty herself. It's hard to /not/ at least crack a small smile at how Gilgamesh-level overblown the whole affair is, reminding her that it's not that serious. Or at least, that it wasn't supposed to be.

>Are you willing to back out of anything you're inflicting on this twink?

"...You know, Miku, we still have to explain that I'll be the one actually entering the tournament, not you..."
"Hmmm...fighting in my place...that would make you something like my knight in shining armor, wouldn't it?"

    Hibiki makes a Sound, promptly followed by Petra's intuition being spot on as the pair go to find a pair of seats right next to her. Both of them give the other girl a little wave of greeting as they settle in, along with Hibiki giving her a small grin that's probably closest to 'apologetic' if you had to put it to a word.

    "Hey, Petra. Today's the day, huh?" Well, one of them, anyway. Her attention drifts to POD doing the opening crawl, and then goes to follow the spotlight. "Wonder who they got to do the judging...?"
Father Berislav      Father Berislav sits in the front row with the other contestants, hands folded in his lap, one leg crossed over the other. He wears a button-up, with a vibrant floral print of blue and gold over a black background. It's unbuttoned to make a deep neckline and exaggerate the collar, tucked into tight-fitting slacks matching the rich blues of the floral print. The outfit is complemented by a simple leather choker.

     He applauds lightly for the judge, smiling pleasantly and lifting his hands slightly above his head to let the sound carry, before returning them to his lap and interlacing his fingers.

     "Hello, Metaphor," he offers warmly, seated next to her. "I'm doing quite well. Excited for the results, and to see everyone's creativity at play. I have to say, again, the outfit you put together for him was just splendid." His silver eyes twinkle as he brushes a lock of silver hair behind an ear. It's untied, today, hanging in gentle waves on either side of his face.
Sleek Shimmer     Sleek Shimmer has found her contestant spot, and and is thusly seated. Her legs swing with anxious energy, and tails idly swish in an arrhythic, nervous fashion. Seems that, for some reason, she's struggling to get her composure for this event.

    She hasn't dressed up for the occasion herself, deeming her normal attire perfectly appropriate for a tournament and her profession.
Lilian Rook     There are circumstances where Lilian could be asked to judge people's fashion choice and do so free of charge. There are many where she'd do it without being asked. There are some where she'd only take the time out of her literally physically impossibly busy day to even look at some significant expense of bribe. Today is none of those: It is exclusively by force of whim of Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, that Lilian has suffered the occasion. Perhaps it is for that reason that she is ever so terribly, passively spiteful about showing.

    Once all the contestants are seated, and not a moment before, Lilian struts out into the spotlight at maximum burn. The sharp, stacatto clicks of immaculately polished black heels echo cleanly off the accoustic walls. Warm stage light catches in the petals of a white gold lily hairpin; and diamond earrings, linked bracelets, and gold braided necklace besides; scattering into white and iridescent glitter-light. Perfect pace at perfect clip causes her hair to lift out behind her, let down to her waist and sectioned by an elaborate celtic knot; just a little heavier than the trailing fabric of a backless halterneck formal dress in wine red and cocktail black, split all the way up to the thigh in the two-layer skirt, and fastened by a silk sash and braid tied in eastern style.

    A colour-matched fur lined coat is still loosely hung over arm while baring the shoulder, from coming inside. More hours have gone into her makeup than some contestants put into their outfits, with deep red lipstick and coloured eyeshadow accent contrasting her nails, painted black with dusty gold swirl-lines taking her accesorization from 'coyly tasteful' to 'instantly disintegrating'. Even her usual messenger bag has been replaced with an actual purse. It is, all in all, how Lilian attends the high society events nobody here is invited to.

    And just as in those cases, she radiates not just the scattered glow of the spotlight, but an almost overpowering sense of raw, irresistible magnetism. She exudes Presence. Gravitas. It's hard to look away. It feels like she could sweetly ask someone to jump off a bridge and they would on the spot.

    Lilian seats herself as if she owns the place. The fact she could buy it out in a heartbeat is irrelevant; even the excessively British 'royal wave' she gives the room feels like a gift of fire from the gods. Coat folded, bag down, leg over leg in that surgically smooth way, she doesn't slow the slightest bit of trepidation about baring that much leg. Not today.

    "You all know very well who I am. But to stand on a matter of formality, I, Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook; Immaculate Extinguisher, Sword, Black; and Paladins Chevalier, will be your judge for today." She claps her hands twice, and it cuts through the chatter as if she had an amp and mic. "Let's see the first . . . submission. And don't tell me whose it is. I'd rather keep my character assessments out of my fashion assessments."
Ishirou -Now, with the pleasant greetings out of the way, we will proceed to show off the items to be judged.  Ishirou, you may come out.-

There is a long pause, he doesn't come out.  

The pause is longer.

POD exits the stage to go backstage.  There is an argument.  It ends with a very loud sigh and a 'fine fine' likely from Ishirou.  POD comes back out a moment later, and speaks again.

-Ishirou, you may come out.-

The first outfit today is...

A fancy maid outfit.  Right now, Ishirou is dressed up in a fancy maid's outfit.  His face is beet red, and he sighs in defeat, forced to ware this dress in public to be watched by everyone.  Hilariously enough, despite all of this, he has quite the figure for it, though it hangs a little low because he's not as tall as Kale is.  

Ishirou comes up across the stage, spins around once, then quickly exits.

The next outfit...

Ishirou is dressed in a green-grey cashmere blazer and matching slacks. He also has a spring green tie, and underneath that is a lavender dress shirt contrasting the suit and tie.  He also is wearing a pair of glossy dress shoes with slate gray accents.  He's much more comfortable in this outfit, than the first, and walks out.

Calmly he takes a moment to show off the outfit to Lilian and does not quickly exit the stage.  He will, eventually exit because there are so many outfits and so little time!

The next outfit is...

Ishirou is in a short-sleeved teal button-up with a tailored black sleeveless formal jacket on top, almost close to an understated corset, with a few silver buttons along the sides. The somewhat taller collar is matched by a cravat, with a small and simplistic silver brooch. This continues down into a matching half-skirt over black shorts, the front of the skirt open and only continuing down to a bit below the knee, and the lining is done in that same teal.

A short black mantle is draped across his shoulders, with a teal 'cybernetic' design inlay and a silver chain holding it together. He has black ankle boots with a few straps along the front and more buttons, and a pair of fingerless gloves with a similar inlay to the mantle.

All of it seems to keep his arms and legs relatively unrestricted. Useful!  Like before, he seems to hang out longer to show this one up, though only reluctantly leaves the stage.  

((A picture for this: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/632432563801030668/1079933411290009610/ishirou_dress_up_exclamation_mark.png))
Futaba Nuki More familiar-ish faces. Although she hasn't really spoken to Berislav nor Metaphor much before, she does certainly recall their sense of style well enough to greet them with the raised-arm and mildly stiff wave. "Hey there! I thought this contest was supposed to be about what Ishirou's wearing, but you're already raising the bar too high!" She jests, not feeling too self-conscious about wearing her usual track jacket and shorts combo.

When (she thinks) nobody's looking, though, she does do a bit of shapeshifting to swap her sneakers out for something fancier-looking with a real logo on it and all.

Hibiki and Miku arrive as well, getting a friendly wave from Futaba and also giving her reason to pause and think about that question Hibiki brings up. "Must be someone Mister Ishirou knows. It'd have to be, right? Someone that knows him, what would fit. Someone like..."

Lilian shows up, and that pretty much answers that question. Futaba erupts into cheers, of course, what with finally seeing one of her seniors on the field for only the... Second time? Making a mental note to get out there more, Futaba nods slowly while taking notes on the requests being made.

"Keeping it all professional and impartial... Whoa. She's good." Futaba comments, then goes quiet as Ishirou comes out to show off the first three outfits! The first one, of course, has her staring the longest and with the least amount of noise, though the latter isn't for a lack of interest. If anything, it's far too much.

"... Cute. Fits better than I thought it would, too." She murmurs with a low furrowing of her brow, resting her chin on the table while considering the next outfit. "Classic... Way more regular, but it's not bad. Does't look like it's messing with him as much, either."

She almost sounds slightly disappointed at that last part about the second outfit..

"That last one, though... It's fancy. It's kind of like what I hear old-timey nobles used to wear, too. Kind of reminds me of what the old folks would wear back home, too." Futaba also sounds like she vaguely disapproves of those last few points.
Ozhira     The Beast watches Ishirou display outfits, with a variety of reactions.

    Frills and ribbons have the creature paying Entirely Undue Attention to them, a wide-eyed stare with tiny pinprick pupils. Their expression is that of someone trying very hard to restrain themselves, though the creature still visibly shakes from doing so.

    By the second outfit, Ozhira has calmed down. Especially since the second outfit has nothing dangly that invokes a Pursuit instinct.

    They let out a relieved little noise, visibly relaxing and just appreciating the artistry and colors of the latter two costumes.

    As Ishirou returns for the next round, though, Ozhira swivels their head towards the Judge in her fancy dress and jewelry. The neutral expression becomes a little frown, brow knitting as they look down at themself. Their tie is pinched between thumb and forefinger, drawn out as they look at it, "...Is this not, appropriate..?"
Metaphor Metaphor rubs the back of her neck at the compliment on her own outfit and then on her submission (ECG accelerates slightly), seeming about to reply with something before Lilian enters the stage. Her attention remains fixed (rate slows) and she stiffens slightly; knee bounce exchanged for a hand run along a belt. A conspicuous lack of applause obvious to people watching her.

She doesn't relax until Ishirou fails to show up. As POD disappears and the argument ensues, she chuckles under her breath. She leans back forwards as Ishirou takes the stage...

    ...and promptly snorts at the first outfit. A miniscule shake of the head, though her gaze lingers somewhat. Refuse associations. She's busy spacing out as the second outfit is shown off, and in the dark an approving nod is given (visible regardless). Ishirou's increase in confidence at wearing it seems somewhat infectious to the woman, and as the third outfit is shown off she's right back to blatant excitement. More, even, in this case. She's watching Ishirou's face; Lilian's face; the faces in the crowd she can see. Looking for reaction.

It's not really subtle.
Father Berislav      Berislav smiles at Futaba, nodding his head and returning with a little wave of his own. "It seemed only fitting for the occasion," he says, with a modest little dismissive wave of his hand. "Still," he adds, "The sentiment is flattering, thank you."

     "And how about Lilian, hm?" He asks, after her 'subtle' wardrobe alteration. "What a commanding air our judge has," says the priest, after Lilian makes her entrance and introduction. It's hardly a surprise, he thinks, given their first meeting. She seems the type to easily mantle that sort of energy.

     Berislav's face is a stone mask when Ishirou comes out in the first outfit, a perfect expression of pleasant neutrality. Of course it's funny. Of course it's a good look on him--but the priest considers it a matter of mercy not to draw attention overly to either of those things, given Ishirou's own reaction. A slight, ephemeral twitch at the corners of his mouth is the only sign, but it speaks to the effort given over to the attempt.

     The other two outfits seem to be ones he recognizes, if the slight glimmer in his eyes is any indication.

     "I do like the mantle," he says, of the second outfit. He'd said similarly, during the excursion to the Closet.
Kale Hearthward Kale leans forward a bit when the first maid outfit gets brought out. Did- yeah, they forgot to tailor it a bit for Ishirou's size. Hrm.

The second outfit gets a nod. It's a fairly simple color theme, but color is important. This could be a contender...

... It's the third outfit that really gets him paying attention. This was - did he see this one during the trip to Gilgamesh's? Maybe he got too caught up in things to pay attention to it.

This... might not be the cakewalk that he thought it might be.
Lilian Rook     The very first outfit is a maid dress.

    Lilian's neutrally anticipatory stare turns to hard green bottleglass, down to a jagged glint and all. "Are you joking?" are her first words of the event. "Who submitted this? This is a maid dress. A costume one, too. Today is a fashion competition, isn't it? The fact that he looks cute in this has nothing at all to do with the core premise; maids are cute by definition and the uniform is a complete and fully refined paradigm." She glances scathingly around the room. "There is no fashion here. You're just invoking the inherent lovability of maids to get a positive reaction. You didn't try. You didn't learn. You didn't grow. You cheated not only the show, but yourself as well. Next!"

    Next outfit.

    "Oh, now that's much better." says Lilian. Relaxing from her rigidly offended posture, she folds one arm under her elbow, and slowly tilts her head to examine this way and that. "Somewhat basic, but that's by my standards, not yours. These are all things that everyone knows go together, and nothing new, so I'll have to take points off I'm afraid, but all in all, he looks surprisingly good in a blazer. A complementary colour scheme might be a bit bold on someone as pale as him, though. I rather like the lavender, but you'd have been better off aiming for something triadic. Blueshifted greys in the blazer, rather than greenshifted, and having used cool yellow in a tie pattern. It'd work better with white hair and blue eyes. Cashmere was a nice choice. I suggest he pick out something himself. Next."

    Next outfit.

    Lilian leans forward at this one. Her fingers curl thoughtfully under her chin, but the look in her eyes is one of rapt, detail-oriented absorption. "Oh my. See, this is what I mean. Fair skin and white hair means you have to choose a colour profile carefully. Single highlight monochrome is simple, but it's popular in costume designs for a reason." She blinks. "Ah, I see. Leaning fully into his build are we? Slimming black but with the mantle and coattails to fill out where he'd look like a beanpole, but someone seems to have embraced the universal desirability of tailored shapewear." Her smile looks . . . approving? "So many people think of it as a narcissistic cheat, but everyone does it at some point. Even I used to have it tailored in. Let's see . . ."

    Ishirou is exposed to the first time Lilian has ever looked up and down his body. "I love the cravat. It's not something you can wear everywhere, but it really makes his features stand out as more 'angelic', don't they? A prettyboy look, almost. It brings the whole formal fusion attempt together nicely. I agree with the silver, but I have an issue with the chain. It's too modern; a braided silver tassel and fasten would have been absolutely perfect. The fingerless gloves pass in this case, given the point, and work with the more modern pattern design in the mantle. I commend whoever designed this on bringing together coattails and shorts without making either look bad. I have mixed feelings on it. Those shoes are quite nice, so emphasizing them with his classic shorts look is a nice play, but the coattails are a bit long for it; they're the length you'd use to classically divide suit and jacket from full length trousers; you'd need to bring them in little more here, or the shorts sort of disappear into it. The lining helps quite a bit to mitigate it. Overall a convincing effort."

    Lilian looks around the room. "Do I have to give scores? If so: Fifty six points for the blazer. Eighty . . . no, let's go with ninety points even on this. Five for originality. Zero for the attempt at stealing maid mystique; don't fuck with me."
Petra Soroka     Petra tries to not beam too much at Hibiki and Miku's arrival, but still waves at them excitedly.

    "Hey, Bikki! Hey, Miku. For judging...? It has to be Lilian, right? Isn't this whole tournament, like, halfway for her?"

    Petra side-eyes Berislav as he chats with Metaphor, then casually returns Futaba's greeting. "Yeah. I, uh, guess I'm ready for it, but I kind of just want to get to the actual tournament at this point. It feels like this all has dragged on for a while."

    The audience's murmuring dies down in preparation for the judge's appearance, and Petra, her earlier assumption of who it would be already cleanly gone from her mind, is dumbstruck by Lilian's appearance. Not, that Petra would've been prepared to see her even if she'd known without a doubt. It's plainly obvious to everyone but her, from the way the breath leaves her and her lips part in absent awe, and the way her glittering eyes track Lilian's movement, that Gilgamesh himself could've been on stage without eliciting a tenth of that reaction from her.

    It's not until Lilian claps that Petra's trance is broken, and she looks away and shuffles in her chair. Petra rubs her fist against her mouth, staring at the ground, and she completely misses the first outfit while recovering from whatever mental damage she just took.

    Finally raising her eyes to the stage when Ishirou comes out with the second outfit, Petra leans back and starts relaxing in her chair a bit more, nodding approvingly. They're good colors on him.

    The third outfit is one she anticipated, and it suits him perfectly. Petra's opinion of who should win is set immediately, and after admiring the outfit a bit more, she abruptly gets self conscious and drifts her eyes away from the stage, wandering across the audience.
Hibiki Tachibana     Futaba gets a wave back, and it's pretty obvious that both of the pair of Hibiki and Miku are contemplating those exact criteria, along with what Petra's very good point, before...

    ...Yup, there she is.

    Thinking about it for even two seconds, Lilian /was/ the shoe-in option for a judge, huh? Hibiki can pretty easily imagine Ishirou and Gilgamesh arranging that particular bit - maybe the latter a whole lot more than the former. The sheer aura she's giving off, though, that's something that has to be less imagined and more experienced. While the magical girl is looking a little stunned silent from how done-up she is, Miku is making good on that promise to cheer with her applause going with Futaba's.

    Though it only lasts for as long as it takes for the show to begin proper. Starting with...

    "Ah."
    "Ah."

    Hibiki, much like when she saw a certain someone present today in a maid outfit for the first time, draws up her jacket collar to do her best to hide a small smile she's trying really hard to force back - sorry Ishirou, seeing it being worn is different - while her black-haired companion dabs at her own nose once with a handkerchief and puts it away slightly redder. A few knowing nods from Miku are given, despite the judge's appraisal.

    The following two get much more normal levels of appreciation, with the blazer-and-slacks combination getting open approval from Hibiki. "Still a little more formal than /I'd/ wear, but I really like it. Plus, he's a green kinda guy. It just...fits. You know?"

    And as for the third...now it's Miku's turn to let out a few more noises of definitive 'I like this'. "That one's going to be really hard to beat...it all comes together so well, on top of looking comfortable!"

    Hibiki takes a second to glance at her shoulder and pat around where a mantle exactly like that would be, if she had one. Hm.
Sleek Shimmer     Sleek Shimmer was so overwhelmed with the choices of fashion available in thhe Closet of Babylon that it's all a massive blur of attires, the names of things and their colors and designs all turning into a slurry of overwhelming fashion.

    Now, here, she can see some of them on display, and for once she's at least a bit intrigued by something that isn't combat. She's certainly never heard of fashion shows or modeling...

    The maid outfit gets her tilting her head first this way, and then the other.

    The second outfit she leans forward a bit with to get a closer look, but there's no obvious reaction...

    The third, featuring a fancy and dramatic mantle, with the black color scheme, actually gets her showing a grin. She definitely approves of that.
Ishirou The next set of outfits!

This time there is an awkward pause.  It extends.  

Eventually, POD goes back.  There is another argument.  This time, however, you hear an 'ACK' 'PUT ME DOWN' and 'NOOOO!'

Ishirou, held in the air by the back of his neck by POD is shoved outside of the dressing room area and forced to come out.  It's...probably obvious as to why.  

Ishirou is wearing fishnet tights under black jeans with large holes torn in them. The scoop neck top is loose, the hem of it barely reaching the waistline of the jeans, but the fabric is bunched up in front to expose his midriff. Under the small shirt is a fishnet top, extending down to wrap around his palm.

Surprisingly, there is no choker.  Probably because one isn't able to be purchased in such a classy place.  Or perhaps the person who made this outfit had mercy on Ishirou.  Ishirou, on the other hand, does the bare minimum before retreating back into the back.  If Ishirou were any more red, he'd be a cherry popsicle.  

The next outfit!

This time, Ishirou doesn't take time coming out, nor is forced out the back by POD.  

Ishirou is dressed in a pinstripe, short-sleeved camp shirt in green and white.  He has a handsome-looking cravat and comfortable sea-green slacks.  It comes with a slouch hat.  It looks very 1940s, and casual.  

Ishirou takes a normal amount of time showing it off.  He doesn't hate it!  He isn't embarrassed about wearing it, but instead is just the normal amount of embarrassment by being out here.  

The next outfit...

Is a dark gray suit and pants combo with a purple interior and a faint flowery motif on the back in a slightly lighter silver. Gold seams line the sleeves and the front of the jacket and the buttons of the jacket are also gold, but the vest included with the set has silver buttons instead.

A gold bow tie is also included to round out the whole set with the white dress shirt underneath, and a silver pocket watch with irregular gold lines is included for additional flair.  Ishirou seems to be a bit...overwhelmed by this outfit.  There is so much gold.  

"I almost feel like I need shades.." he says, but does not rush off the stage.
Kale Hearthward Kale is *very* carefully silent when Lilian goes off on the first outfit.

He - er, that is, whoever submitted it, probably should have really just withdrawn it from the competition altogether.

The first outfit of the second round... gets him scratching his beak. "That's not... bad?" He's trying to remember who submitted this one. He probably should have paid more attention to that. "It's... just not an appropriate outfit for the job he's going to be doing in it, and clearly not an appropriate outfit for him," Kale remarks to whoever's nearby to hear him. "If he doesn't like it, then he's clearly not gonna show it off."

Outfit two! "Ah, the theming is together, at least... I don't know if it'll stand out that much..."

Outfit three!

... Shiny things.

Kale wonders if he can call dibs on the pocketwatch, if Ishirou doesn't end up keeping this one.
Ozhira     Ozhira releases their tie, eyes closed with a little sigh. As 'underdressed' as they feel, it's too late to change that without drawing attention away from the point of the event. They are not the one on stage, after all. The Beast understands this much, at least.

    Their attention returns to Lilian's judgements on each outfit, though the critique goes over their head by the expression on their face. It's more like the creature is filing terms and observations away to look up later. They are aware, at least, that their entry into this is amateurish due to having only a vague grasp on fashion as a concept, after all. That much is clear on many of the minds that make up the Devourer's collective consciousness.

    Attention swivels back to the stage, as if they intend to link what Lilian said to what they can see for themselves. If nothing else, this is a learning experience for someone who has self-described as A Monster.

    The only time Ozhira speaks up during the latest round is when Ishirou dashes back after demonstrating the first and most daring outfit. The beast's head tilts with a chirping sound, "He scurries like prey this time. We wonder why. Is it, uncomfortable?"

    They are quite silent and attentive for the other two outfits, less distracted by his less panicky motions in them.
Father Berislav      Berislav's hand has found its way up to his cheek, fingers splayed across it and giving him the air of a thoughtful student at a lecture. Yes--perhaps that color scheme was a little bold for someone as pale as Ishirou, come to think of it. Eye color hadn't been accounted for as much as it perhaps should have, either.

     "Oh, my," says the priest, of the first outfit from the next set. "I have to agree, Kale. Though, that being said, I might have to appropriate something like that for myself, with a few modifications," he opines, running a finger along his choker. Berislav uncrosses his legs and leans forward, elbow balanced on his knee to rest his chin in his hand.

     "That sort of style makes a statement," says Berislav to Ozhira. "All clothing does, in its way. I don't know Ishirou very well, but that sort of 'alternative' style... it's probably a statement that doesn't resonate, or even clashes with who he is." He might be looking for the word 'grunge,' but that was many generations before his time.

     A thoughtful 'hm' escapes, at the sight of the next outfit. "I do like the color of those slacks..."

     "Oh," he says of the third, sitting upright. "The bow tie..." Ishirou does strike him as the type to wear one well.
Sleek Shimmer     The second set of outfits...

    Shimmer has never seen fishnets used for common fashion. She has certainly seen a few outfits featuring them in the Multiverse, but never as something one wears walking down the street... and not typically worn by men. So when Ihirou emerges featuring some of that... her mouth creaks open as if she wants to say something... but doesn't, instead looking rather askance at the whole deal. Seems she maybe thinks that outfit looks creepy on him...

    The second gets an approving nod.

    The third has her jaw dropping a bit, eyes going wide. "Wh... whoah...."
Lilian Rook     Next outfit.

    "Christ. What is it now?" Lilian moans at Ishirou's petulant screaming from backstage. "Is it another maid dress? If there's a second maid dress I might just set fire to everyone here." She glances aside, and says with alarmingly too little humour. "Not you, Kohinata. You're a guest. Just everyone else." And then she goes back to waiting, sighing and tapping her fingernail to her opposite wrist in impatience.

    When he actually comes out, Lilian straightens back up as if flinching in elegant slow motion. An eyebrow turns up in concern. Her lip twitches with a hint of confused disgust. "This is . . ." She cuts off for long seconds, and then exasperatedly gasps "Why?" A moment to collect herself. Lilian clears her throat. "Even evaluating this outfit strictly on its own merits: No. He's far too short for anything that requires limb length to be accentuated. He has short hair and boyish features that don't work with either goth or genderfuck aesthetics. Why are you exposing his abs? He doesn't have any. You're going through all of this effort and then skipped a choker; the one thing that would fit him?"

    "This is just what you want to see on tight-cut, tall and broody boy, isn't it? Why are you making poor Ishirou wear it? Are you getting off to this? Dress the boy himself and not the fantasy you have in your head. Five points. Get it out of my sight."

    Next outfit.

    Lilian sighs in relief. "Thank god. I'm noticing we've decided that cool greens are his colour, apparently. They do work quite nicely against a white field. It's like I said with the front runner, though here you're using bulking white as opposed to slimming black to round him out a bit more. Compared to that one, this is a lot easier to wear casually. That one would present nicely at Elite functions and as Paladins PR, whereas I can see him wearing this on vacation, or at a mixer or interview. Do cravats just work for him? I might think of something myself after this is over."

    She pauses for just a bit of thought, trying to parse out any extra feelings she has. "I agree with the attempt at a hat, but a wide brim is just too much for him. It's another item you put on tall men, not just thin ones. He'd be better off with something softer and more subdued. He sort of vanishes under this one, and it detracts a lot from what nice top. Overall, I'm relatively happy with it. It's simple, but a little adventurous; it has a nice, timeless vibe to it, and it's flexible. A nice watch would have added a lot to it. Let's give it eighty . . . two points. Now, next."

    Next outfit.

    This is the first one that Lilian looks truly ambivalent about. A balance of positive and negative that equals out to nearly lukewarm. "Where do I begin . . ." she murmurs. "It looks as if you had two decent outfit ideas and tried to compromise in the uncanny valley between them. When you're displaying a suit, you're showing something very simple and accepted, which has been refined to death, so it's imperative to venture from the template, or you can only break even at best. You've done that, which is nice; I like the pattern and embossing, and the same goes in terms of single colour highlight; purples work well on him as a more 'rich' colour."

    "But the divide is schizophrenic. Using both gold and silver in the same design is well ahead of your means like this, and in the first place you'd want to contrast the silver against the black and use the gold against the white for colour. There's a lot of gold in general for such a pale subject, which only works if it's the primary highlight and against a lighter backdrop matched to his skin and hair. It's nice against his eyes, but this would have required a white suit and blue, or at least lavender, over violet. A gold bowtie only belongs on a game show, though I like the shape over a conventional tie. This is two eighty to ninety point outfits mashed together into a sixty six. Art is limitation. Remember that. Next!"
Petra Soroka     Lilian's response to the first outfit has Petra frozen and wide-eyed with anxiety. She stares at the floor, pink crawling up her cheeks. Lilian's affinity for maids might be way beyond what she expected. The contest tomorrow becomes unspeakably terrifying in her brain.

    Petra watches the next set of costume with dead eyes, the spark behind them completely gone. It barely registers in her head that she's the one that submitted the fishnets; there's no longer any joy to be found from the joke. The other two pass before her similarly unremarkably. She just applauds half-heartedly along with the audience whenever the presentation demands it.

    Berislav's comment and motion with his choker gets a mildly annoyed glance from Petra, but the energy to be actually angry has long since left her.
Metaphor Wow, she's certainly vibrating. Whatever hangups Metaphor had at Lilian's entrance are incinerated under the purging mental fire of positive response from both judge and crowd; it's blatant to people sitting next to her that she is currently channeling every bit of energy she can into trying to appear outwardly calm. That could be anyone's submission, of course. The fact that she is blatantly hanging on the words of the critique is irrelevant; she is calm.

It only sort of works. Accelerate.

Her face-watching (and an educated guess) means she leans over to Berislav following judgement. In an excited whisper, "The second outfit looked really good! I really like the colors. And the tie. Uh." She seems like she wants to continue, but stops for whatever reason.

After a minute, though, Ishirou begins walking out once more - or, more correctly, is dragged out. Metaphor remains just as invested as the fourth outfit is revealed, even giving a somewhat wistful hum under her breath. She settles down a bit, though, at how discomforted he is by it, and the other two outfits are nodded along to, the third garnerning a quiet but approving "huh" as well.

She mutters under her breath as Ishirou walks backstage from the third outfit. "...statements. Fishnets definitely make... a statement, I guess. I remember that statement. So does... gold. Says something important. Did I... say something..? I... uh. Huh." She pauses for a few seconds, things quiet while Lilian prepares her judgements. "...would a statement have gotten a better..?"

She shakes her head slightly, at nobody in particular. She leans back towards Berislav. "The gold is cool, right? Maybe a bit much, but he looks cool."

The judgement, with another outfit receiving a high eighty, seems to have her leaning forward even more. Maybe just a high grader. A metaphorical blink. Her, a high grader?

A shrug, and then a return to deep investment in the outfits.
Hibiki Tachibana     "I know you wouldn't, Miss Rook!" Bespoke very genuinely. If one listens, there's a good-natured chuckle from Miku that follows after.

    Outfit one...neither of the girls would forget who submitted that one. They very pointedly do not look in the direction of the one responsible, Hibiki especially knowing what kind of hawkeyes Lilian possesses, but the blonde sounds pretty genuine when she folds her arms and murmurs quietly, "I still do kinda think he can rock something punk-y. Maybe it's the contrast with what he usually wears..."

    The second gets a healthy level of appreciation, once again, from Hibiki especially. It's not necessarily because it's her kind of style, because it's not. It might be for the same reasons as the first - the difference from what one expects to see him in is striking, in a not-bad way. The classics are the classics for a reason, huh?

    And looking at it, she actually really likes the hat. Hats aren't done enough.

    The third...

"...I think I should have grabbed a pair of sunglasses at the door myself."
"Hmm...it's not that bad. If the entire thing was gold, maybe! It's kind of interesting, put with the darker suit!"
"Kinda wonder how it'd look with a white one...maybe it'd just be /really/ blinding."

    It sounds like they're going to casually debate between themselves until the next round - though Petra might miss Miku quietly and sneakily glancing at her from past Hibiki, even if it's much harder to do the same the blonde putting a hand on her shoulder to give her a brief, supportive shake.
Lilian Rook     'it's probably a statement that doesn't resonate, or even clashes with who he is'

    "It isn't a statement he can make. It's clearly been submitted by someone who has very little experience with boys outside of trashy media." says Lilian, without actually looking down the contestants. "Juvenile or rot-brained, with no idea of what actually makes men attractive."

    'The gold is cool, right? Maybe a bit much, but he looks cool.'

    Lilian brushes her fingers through her hair, intentionally jostling the clinking bits of her hairpin and earrings. "Gold is something that looks gorgeous when precisely matched to the wearer, and just miserable otherwise. People love throwing it on anything meant to look luxurious, but there really are rules about how you use it, you know. Even the King of Heroes, goldie himself, plays by them."

    'I know you wouldn't, Miss Rook!'

    There's a long, long pause.

    "Haha, of course not~ It's obviously just a bit of humour! Besides, who would be dumb enough to submit another one?"

    'I still do kinda think he can rock something punk-y'

    "I firmly believe Ishirou could handle punk quite well. This isn't it."
Futaba Nuki Still grinning easily at Berislav's comments, Futaba nods in agreement with him. "Really does... That's Miss Rook for you! And we haven't even gotten to that tournament yet, either. Already getting excited for it, though?" She nudges Petra's side playfully (possibly stretching her elbow all the way over just to reach), then laughs again. "And that third one..." She strokes her chin slowly, nodding a little bit after Miku's comments. "That third one really is a standout, yeah! I mean, the maid outfit's cute, but-"

Futaba gestures at Lilian following that teardown of that while agreeing with Miku's assessments as well. "Yeah. And without that gimmick... Well, it still looked alright. But I wonder how it'd look on..." She trails off, just looking at each of the contestants in turn.

Eventually, Futaba just gets a dopey grin on her face, then clears her throat and refocuses her attention on Ishirou again once the next set comes out. The fourth... Oh, she knows this one, having commented on it at the Closet. She has to bite down on her lower lip a bit to not laugh, sadly at his expense and especially after Lilian tears that one apart, too. "Y-yeah, I think... That'd look way better on someone that's more confident showing off in it."

The fifth is a solid contender, too, which means Futaba doesn't have nearly as much to get too excited over so much as she just appreciates the color choices and the general aesthetic of it all. She's taking notes, too, scribbling things down on a notebook as though she might actually try to use some of these fashion tips for herself one day.

What really surprises her, though, are the comments on the sixth. Even though there's some clear mistakes she had made in picking those clashing colors, the fact that Lilian calls the halves eighty-to-ninety at all actually gets the tanuki to swell up a bit with pride. "Good notes, good notes... Huhuhu. Then next time, maybe I can try... Oh, yeah. That'll work!"

It's probably not too hard to guess which one was hers, if anyone sees Futaba furiously writing then and there.
Wisconsin     Wisconsin is good and settled in for all of the announcements, that's for sure.
    And she's more than pleased to hear Lilian' high grade for the casual gear she set out for Ishirou. The 40's are still classy, even in this day and age. The Battleship preens a little in her seat but keeps her cheers and claps respectful at least.

    Denver is booing the maid gear and the 'punk' get up, but more happily agreeing with the Fancy Ass Gold Outfit. "Sparkling is good on him though!"
Ishirou Ishirou has hidden away in the back again.  This time, POD disappears in a different direction.  It comes back with a large cane-like object and reaches back into the dressing room to yank Ishirou out by force.  When he stumbles out...

This Maid Dress is...a full-on french maid outfit, it's something one might find almost anywhere.  It's simple, plain, and has a very frilly headpiece.  Ishirou does not like this, and of course, attempts to stay on the stage for as little as possible.  Flushing like a tomato the entire time.

The next outfit he comes out in...

A fine black peacoat, black with red trim and epaulets. On the right breast is a circular patch depicting a set of sharp-toothed jaws. Underneath this is a breezy white silken shirt with pressed-in white vine designs on the collar and cuffs.

The pants are pressed slacks with sharp creases, the side seams are outlined with red stripes. Shiny black leather shoes and a red silk necktie wrap up the look.

Ishirou doesn't seem to mind this one, even thinks it's a bit sharp.  Taking an extra amount of time to spin on the deck before returning to the back for the next outfit.  

The next one...

This one has the firm feel and thickness of a tuxedo, made of shiny Worsted Wool. Long, straight pants held in place by comfortable elastic. The waistline isn't visible, though, as it's covered by the folds of the top. Said top is not a vest; rather, it is a folding robe in the eastern style and is meant to be folded like a kimono - left over right. The attire is then tied closed with a stylish sash.

It is dyed dark blue with silver trim, and it is covered in stylized embroiderings of Sumerian constellations. The stars are shown in bright silver thread, linked by light blue lines.  

Ishirou looks a little uncomfortable in this one, though it's not likely the outfit.  He doesn't retreat immediately.
Wisconsin     Task Force Bravo is mood silent at yet another Maid Outfit. Let it be known that the Azur Lane girls are quite inured against the appearance of maid outfits when you have to contend with the Royal Maids on a regular basis.
    Ishirou doesn't even have any buttons threating to give under pressure.

    Denver, for her part, hoots a bit for outfit eight. "Lookin' sharp, cutie!" Seems the Knight Cruiser is a big fan of classic cuts and Sharp Dressed Men.

    Wisconsin perks up at the look of the ninth outfit and whistles a bit from her spot in the contestant's row. "Oooooh! Love the Kimono look! Very fancy!"
Petra Soroka     "Five points. Get it out of my sight."}

    "It's clearly been submitted by someone who has very little experience with boys outside of trashy media."

    "Besides, who would be dumb enough to submit another one?"

    Petra is dead. She's died and gone to hell and this is her punishment for eternity.

    At this point Petra is slumped in her chair, drooping like a puppet with her strings cut. She's utterly unresponsive to the new set of outfits and Futaba's encouragement. When Bikki shakes her shoulder, there's none of the expected muscular resistance, like she's made of jello. Eventually she pulls herself back into a sitting position, just to collapse with her face buried in her hands.

    "Somebody shoot me. Get it over with."
Kale Hearthward MEANWHILE

Remee is chilling on a beach with her phone and radio turned off because she *knew* something like this would happen and she wants no part of it.
Metaphor Metaphor diverts her gaze in ( SECONDHAND EMBARASSMENT / SOMETHING REFUSED ) as Ishirou in another maid outfit blitzes up and back the runway. A quiet sigh - and then a sudden snap to attention, staring at Lilian. She tenses again, stare unwavering, until the judge shows that she is not, in fact, going to kill someone. Full caution.

Eventually, though, she drags her attention away and back to Ishirou as he shows up in snappy black-and-red formalwear. She "oh's" under her breath, nodding fervently, hanging on every movement. Her response to the ninth outfit isn't as enthusiastic as the previous, but it does get a hum of approval. At Ishirou's hesitance, though, she thinks for a second and shoots half a glance towards another audience member. Only for a second. Won't be impolite.
Ozhira     "It causes discord for him?" Ozhira inquires when Berislav addresses them. Their attention returns to the stage, a finger tapping at their chin, "We understand a little better, now."

    Ishirou comes back out wearing-- "Oh. We saw this one, already. It must be a... mistake." The hesitancy that plagues the Beast's speech pattern doesn't hide much of the confidence they're trying to project in that determination.

    The next two things Ishirou walks out wearing receive more direct attention from the creature, who once again watches closely. The finger at their chin moves and they rest their chin fully against knuckles, "Suits. Colors. Eyes. We had not considered colors, beyond our own."

    The smile that crosses Ozhira's face is a rare one, in that it isn't a Complete Disaster like what usually happens. It's a little, genuine grin that shows sharkly teeth pressed together into neat triangles, "We are pleased to learn, at least."

> "Somebody shoot me. Get it over with."

    The Devourer's head swivels towards the source of that voice. Someone they recognize, albeight the encounter was brief and a few months ago. The smile is gone, it's just a stare with those red eyes, "We can help, if you want to die."

    Something nags at them. The idea that someone else in the room is going to beat them to it.
Father Berislav      Berislav doesn't verbally answer Metaphor's compliment, but he does practically beam, eyes briefly shut, legs crossed again.

     "Mm, I thought it might be something like that," says Berislav of Lilian's assessment, regarding the fishnets. "But I didn't know him well enough to say for sure." Thus, his own outfit--though it seems he'd played it a bit too safe in places, and gone too bold in others. He doesn't bother commenting on the remark about immolation, though. Even if he did, it'd probably be something politely unconcerned, in an unhinged sort of way.

     "...Petra, are you all right?" he says, after a brief glance between the competition. "You look like you've seen a ghost. A particularly rude one," he adds. "You're doing that thing with your face." She has a very distinctive annoyed look. And then she looks as though she's passed on from the mortal coil.

     The next outfits, then. "Another maid dress," he says, with as much effort as he can muster for polite neutrality. "And me without fire-resistant clothing. Mm... well, at least it's easier to stop, drop and roll in these," he says, smoothing the soft button-up.

     "Oh, a print shirt," he says, of the outfit with the peacoat. There's mild interest, there. "Interesting offset to the formality the slacks and the jacket give off..."

     The next outfit has his brows raised. "How daring," he says. "Daring and... hm, a little esoteric?" It doesn't seem like he dislikes it for that, it should be noted.
Sleek Shimmer     As before, Shimmer watches the parade of outfits continue. Once again the super frilly maid approach. No matter how she looks at it, that just doesn't seem right for a tournament announcer. Or a boy...

    The peacoat gets another approving nod!

    And number three, another little grin. Not as grand as the one with the mantle though.

    But then her sharp, pointy, fur-covered ears twitch as she hears some rather disheartened noises. She glances over Petra's way, blinks a few times, frowns, and then leans over out of her chair...

    Shimmer just simply vanishes. One moment she's leaning over, the next she's a space-twisty blur and gone and...

    And then there is a fluffy red fox seated on Petra's back, nudging her left shoulder with a paw in what can only be concern.
Futaba Nuki French maids are new for Futaba. She actually needs to do a double take when she sees Ishirou coming out in that outfit, furrowing her brow and craning her neck a few times in both directions just to try and figure it out. It's not clear if she likes it or not, although the lack of immediate response might be enough of a sign there.

The black outfit with the epaulets, too, has Futaba considering it closely. "The colors are nice... Really sharp, but I think it'd work on someone... Taller? With bigger shoulders. Like..." She glances arund, only then realizing that there isn't anyone here that really matches the mental image of an ideal fit for such a look. She gives up a little bit later, then gets her head right back into it for...

Number nine. It sort of reminds her of home, even, so she really has to take a closer look at this one to pick out the parts that actually indicate that it's got other things mixed in as well. "Nice fit, nice colors, good use of that top to hide the belt... Neat designs, too. Never seen those before! And the silver bits are real good..."

There's a lot to take in with all of these, and Futaba seems to be even more fired up than before thanks to all the feedback she's hearing. Petra's slouching, though, has Futaba raising an eyebrow before sliding right over to where she's sitting (literally, because Futaba's using her tail as a self-moving chair now).

"Hey, hey, it's not all bad. Nowhere to go but up, right? At least you didn't make a good one worse adding more stuff to it." Futaba tries to offer some consolation there with an easygoing chuckle, giving Petra another rib-nudge to try and snap her out of that funk.
Hibiki Tachibana     Ahahaha. Ha. Right, exactly, who would be dumb enough to submit another one?

    ...So anyway. The second maid dress.

    Hibiki's hand is still just as firm on Petra's shoulder by the time she re-materializes from the floor back into her seat, as the pair grimace and glance between one another. To their friend's credit, both of them don't have a single word to pipe up with on the subject, good or bad, and are almost certainly bracing for impact with the inevitable judging rather than piling onto the support she's getting from the others.

    Hibiki does, however, lean forward to shoot a stare and a frown back towards Ozhira. She doesn't say anything, but her it's definitely the kind that seems like it can bore into someone, followed by her closing her eyes and shaking her head.

    Which leaves Miku to pick up the other girl's slack when it comes to keeping the situation not entirely focused on Petra's situation, even if she can't help her own concerned glances. "Ooh...I didn't take Ishirou for the type for that kind of coat! It almost seems like the sort of thing a general would wear..."

    And on the third as well - "Something like a half-robe...that's an unexpected one, complete with a sash! And the embroidery...ahaha, I don't think I could match something like that if I tried. But it's really, /really/ beautiful."

    She's quite good at sounding very put-together even when worried. It's anyone's guess where that comes from.
Lilian Rook     Next outfit.

    Lilian leaps explosively from her seat and kicks the underside of her judge's table in the same motion, launching it off the floor into a short spin and a deafening crash. A glimpse of a thigh holster is visible through the slit in her displaced skirt; empty, for the fact that she's already slammed the stripper clip into the receiver and is brandishing the barrel of Winter Crow around the room furiously.

    "Are you taking the-- Who is the obnoxious little pissant who thinks this is funny?! Who's been telling lies?! Come on! Laugh!! I have to cancel my plans and watch you all traipse about in no less than four maid dresses, so you could at least laugh at your clever little joke! Any volunteers for whatever asinine little rumour started this?! Well?!"
Petra Soroka     Petra doesn't look up to address Ozhira, instead muttering through her hands with bitter sarcasm. "What gave it away?"

    The crowd of sympathy is somehow less well received than Ozhira's offer of blissful freedom. "What thing with my face? I'm not doing anything with my face. I don't have a *thing* I do with my face. Mind your own business."

    Futaba's comforting is met with a despairing moan through Petra's hands. "I don't even caaare about the competition! I'm just *tired* of this."

    Hibiki's hand is left on Petra's shoulder unchallenged; by far receiving the most positive reaction. She seems grateful for Miku's narration too, shoulders sagging with exhaustion rather than the weighty suction drawing her further into hell.

    Then, an unfamiliar weight appears on her back, adding to the Atlas-like burden she already carries. Suddenly full of energy, propelled by the building steam of embarrassment converted into a snap of anger, Petra whirls around, shrugging off Hibiki's hand. She drives her elbow back as hard as she can, as if she was punching a wall to vent, and slams the fox in the stomach.

    She stares blankly at Shimmer, then her face floods with anger, and she opens her mouth to shout at her before Lilian raises her voice first. Instead, she squeals and ducks her head, hiding behind the chairs and bodies separating her from Lilian.
Ishirou Ishirou jumps from his position on the stage, and looks around in a panic...trying /NOT/ to stare at Petra, but does because he wants to see if she's ready to brace against the storm that's about to come. This would likely tell Lilian everything.
Lilian Rook     Petra flinched. That means she's guilty. That's how it works, with Lilian like this. Like a motion-sensitive predator, or a trigger-activated bomb, she knocks her seat back and lunges at Petra in less than the blink of an eye, thinking nothing of slamming her to the ground and placing her heel down somewhere painful to hold her there. The gun is right against the back of her head.

    "I fucking knew it! Of course it had to be you! Do you have something to say, Soroka?! You've been doing an awful lot of suggesting! Or do I need to make certain that this waste of time is the very last you ever put me through?!"
Kale Hearthward Oh this is going to be good.

This is going to be-


Lilian loses it.

Kale, who's been sitting carefully still, remains carefully still for... a moment. His mind races. Petra deserves... a lot of things, to be sure. But he's not sure if she deserves this specifically.

Damnit.

Steeling himself, Kale stands up. "Lilian."

"It was me."
Ozhira     A table flips and a gun comes out.

    The shock of the sudden commotion and outburst startles the Beast before they can answer Petra's misery. When they jump in place, their entire figure ripples. At knee-level, a crimson tendril separates from their body and jabs itself into a crack in the stage.

    This pseudopod pulsates, disgorging an appreciable amount of biomass behind the stage's exterior sheeting. The mass cuts itself off, produces a maw and pseudopods of its own, and starts slithering out through the Closet of Babylon's understructure.

    The human-shaped Ozhira jumps again when Lilian singles out Petra, raising their hands palms-out. The expression they're trying to convey doesn't translate well, likely due to all the confusion and surprise rippling through the aggregate consciousness. It just comes out as-- well, shocked and confused.

    "Is this-- from what you said?"
Father Berislav      "Very well," says Berislav to Petra. He doesn't sound like he believes any of it--more like he's leaving it be.

     A three-car pileup of internalized homophobia, femcel bitterness and one-upmanship messily explodes before his patient, smiling face. The expression looks more at home on a man forty years his senior, watching grandchildren play in the park. It is extremely at odds with his inner world.

God give me strength.

     "Now, now," says Berislav, remaining in that serene position, hands folded in his lap. "I don't know about the rest of these fine people, but I wasn't told that you'd be the judge, Lilian. Unless everyone else is privy to that information but me, it seems highly unlikely that those outfits would've been picked out to antagonize you. Isn't that right, Petra, Kale?"
Petra Soroka     Petra reflexively flinches away from Lilian's shouting, and her brain skips ahead in its projection of her actions. Reflexes fill the gap between perception and reaction. Lilian fills the gap between reflexes.

    It's not until she hits the ground that Petra realizes what's happened, and the air is knocked out of her before she can protest. She only managed a feeble whine when Lilian presses her heel into her back, kicking her feet against the ground ineffectually. She writhes helplessly, trying to gasp air in, and finally squeaks out a response.

    "I--I didn't, even, know about--" Petra coughs and struggles to reach into her own pocket for her gun, "about your, weird fetish, until now!"
Hibiki Tachibana     Ah. There it goes.

    Although it's a little more dramatic than anyone could expect. Maybe more than a little. Hibiki finds her grip on Petra slipping when she goes to throw off Sleek Shimmer, which is already enough to leave anyone dumbfounded for a moment - although that probably would have happened anyway given what Lilian does right after.

    "L-Lilian...!?"

    It takes another whole second to process even though she's jumping to her feet herself on instinct, while Miku is still frozen in place with her hands clasped over her mouth. This is all so sudden that Hibiki, who's already not great at expressing herself with just words, is very much tripping all over them.

    "Hey, l-look, that's way too far, she didn't even su--"

    Kale speaks up, and she stops with her mouth open to look his direction with a blink. She...wasn't expecting that from him. For a moment, there's just silence.

    And then Miku slowly lowers her hands down to clasp them a little lower at her chest, although definitely feeling incredibly /some/ sort of way about all of this. When she speaks up, it's maybe a tiny bit quieter than normal.

    "...Um. Miss Rook? This is...part of the joke, right?" She's pretty aware that it's not, but making her presence obvious might help. Might.
Futaba Nuki The reason for Petra's apparent despair becomes clearer not when she flinches and swings at Shimmer, but when Lilian starts shouting. Futaba goes wide-eyed at first, though, not quite knowing how to react to all that beyond getting that deer-in-the-headlights look up until she brings that gun to Petra's head.

"Whoa, easy, Miss Rook! Y-yeah, the stylish guy's right!" An aside to Berislav while Futaba holds her hands up, trying to vaguely air-nudge Lilian away with her existence. "You're a priest, right?" And then back to Lilian. "I didn't even know you'd be here for this today, so Petra couldn't have figured it out, right? She probably just wanted to mess with Mister Ishirou and not point at..."

Weird fetish? "Weird...? What?" She looks between Petra and Lilian next, going blankfaced once more while once again trying to process all of these things at once and failing miserably at it.
Metaphor ( HAND > DUFFEL > BAG > DRAW )

A cylinder, shiny and grey, clenched within a palm. Seat left. Stance low. A spring, coiled. Gaze fixed on Lilian.

Somehow, she seems more natural in this particular type of tension than she was before. A sideliner to a standoff; meddler in something else she has no reason to care about. ( PROBLEM / SOLUTION ).

She hums something low, before silencing at Berislav's diplomacy. Watch for a response. One, two, three seconds of silence. A voice only audible to her adjacents or those who excel auditorialy. "Foam. Brace behind, radius judged right. Give the word, Berislav."

Grip tightens as Kale attempts to take the backlash. Grip tightens as Petra attempts to draw. Grip tightens as Petra says something stupid. Tension.
Sleek Shimmer     Petra makes a wild swing over her shoulder with surprising speed. At a small animal on her back. A small animal that knows far more kung fu than she does. An animal who, at this close, can hear Petra's heart rate and feel her muscles tense in the anger.

    Shimmer propels herself upwards just in the nick of time, soaring over the punch. It brushes against her tummy fur.

    The little critter didn't just leap straight up though. She leapt FORWARD, atop of Petra's head, and is there for only a half-second. She leaps up and over in a lazy arc, in no hurry to reach the ground--

    Of course, before reaching the ground is even an option, Lilian is rushing forward. This puts Shimmer's downward arc on a collision course with Lilian's head instead!

    As soon as her front paws are about a foot away though there's another twisting of space, she briefly flickers and freezes in the air... and reappears five feet behind Lilian, eyes wide, body tense, but unsure WHAT to actually do with a gun pointed at Petra's head.
Wisconsin     And now the guns are out and Wisconsin and Denver are carefully moving out of the way of all of this. That is not to say they're scrambling for cover, but what they ARE doing is moving juuuuuust far enough out of harms way, and then turning to watch the carnage as it all unfolds.

    Wait no. Denver steps up on a chair, and fishes around in her boot for her wallet. And then pulls out some scrip. "Wisky, I got 40 on the skinny dweeb lady not dying right here." She's trying to make sure she's got a good view.
    Wisconsin sighs and tuts. "Denver, come on now, we're better than that. Ain't no need for this..." It takes a moment's consideration, and then Wisconsin pulls out 40 credits as well. "I'll take your money, Ms Rook is that time sage I told you about."
    Denver's face goes white, and she tries to look at her fellow onlookers for support on her bet.
Ishirou Ishirou is just staring at this situation that's developed in front of him. He /should/ leave Petra to her fate but on the other hand. Ishirou takes a breath and watches Kale willing to take the fall on his sword. "Uh...yeah, Kale's right this one's his."
Lilian Rook     'I did it.'
    Lilian swings her arm and points the gun at Kale without a second thought.

    A second later, she lets it dip down aroung the fulcrum of her index finger. "You forgot again, didn't you Hearthward? You can't lie to me. But it's sort of noble that you tried. In an impossibly misguided way." She swings it right back to track Petra, this time simply aiming it down at her from above in two hands. Her heel grinds into the girl's back, sharp and demanding. The bracelets on her wrist quietly clatter together from a subtle tremor of rage. Hopefully rage. Hopefully not struggling to not just pull the trigger.

    '...Um. Miss Rook? This is...part of the joke, right?'

    "You're right, Kohinata." Lilian says, coldly. "That was in bad taste. I should have shot her the moment she walked in. I should have done it weeks ago."

    'Isn't that right, Petra, Kale?'

    That . . . is . . .
    A good point.
    And also, actually true.

    Lilian waits for a little too long, and then slowly draws in a deep, steadying breath. Four full seconds pass. She slowly releases it. Another four seconds. The next breath. "I suppose there's no accounting for taste." she says back to Berislav, the feral edge all but gone, replaced with mere thorny acidity instead. "I wasn't even told I was expected until the last moment. I wonder if the King made an error in having me judge this rubbish." She reluctantly steps off of Petra.

    The way she stares down at her, not only bereft of guilt, but bereft of any feeling in particular, somehow feels worse than when she was screaming. Four more seconds. Lilian holsters her weapon, sighs, and leans down. Hand outstretched.

    'I--I didn't, even, know about-- about your, weird fetish, until now!'

    "Let me help you to your seat." says Lilian, blandly. Her hand glides right past Petra's, and her fingers clench viciously around her throat. Then, with only a subtle bulge of her biceps, she does just that; she carries the girl back to her chair singlehanded, dragging her across the floor, grip tight enough to bruise, never mind choke. She doesn't even release it right away once she's properly planted. A smooth and easy smile comes to her beneath empty eyes, and Lilian patiently says, "You're a dedicated sort of creep aren't you? Try to grow out of being a fucked up little pervert by the time you're twenty, okay? People's patience for pent up teenaged antics goes down quite a lot by then." Finally, she permits Petra to breathe. A pat on the cheek, then her fingers trail away.

    Lilian returns to her seat as if nothing had happened. As if she dares anyone to even suggest that something had happened. She need only gesture, and the chair rights itself for her, brought up by a tender sweep of her fingers through air. As she sits, the table pops up on its own.

    "Come on. Next outfit."
Father Berislav      "Yes, that's right," says Berislav to Futaba, with an owlish blink, his composure faltering for the slight confusion. He isn't sure how it's relevant, but it's true.

     His eyes flick towards Metaphor, another small crack in his composure. Too quick to convincingly show the relaxed air he's putting on, even if all the other pieces are there. He nods at Metaphor.

     The priest glances around the showroom, taking into account her advice, then the arrangement of the chairs, the distance to the nearest wall. 'Time sage.' What does that mean? Nothing good.

     Multiple firing angles, but getting a draw on one of his heavy revolvers before she can pull the trigger is unlikely at best. Maybe hooking his ankle beneath one of the legs of his chair, less lethal, more likely to provoke a reflex response. Guns can do a lot, but one thing they rarely ever do is de-escalate.

     His eyes flick down, toward's Petra's jacket. Of course. She would. Get the chair moving, dive for Petra after Metaphor's foam, gun out, bounce a shot from the stage to disarm Lilian, strip Petra's wrist? Maybe. He doesn't like 'maybe.'

     None of it is necessary.

     "Isn't that the truth," laughs Berislav as naturally as breathing. Lilian's further rough handling gets a look of gentle chiding from him, as if to say, with his silver eyes cast down his nose as he frowns, 'wasn't the gun enough?'

     It's an act. He knows enough about Petra to know that reaction from Lilian was probably exactly what she wanted, even if she hadn't expected it. Berislav sighs. "Yes," he says to Futaba, "I'm a priest. Although sometimes, I feel more like a ringmaster." God saves his most fucked up clowns, etcetera.
Kale Hearthward Kale doesn't so much as flinch as the gun points his way.> "You forgot again, didn't you Hearthward? You can't lie to me."

"I'm not lying, though. The first maid dress was mine," says Kale.

"Literally mine. I had it nearby, since I keep my wardrobe on the East Wind these days, so I just ran out and got it when Petra submitted hers."

"I can assure you that the intention wasn't your discomfort. Quite the opposite. If you're going to be running your truth detection, you have my permission to kill me on the spot if any part of what I say next isn't one hundred percent true..."

He crosses his arms. "I was only interested in showing up Petra's stagnant excuse for a dress choice up by submitting mine alongside hers. However, I bear at least some responsibility for how events unfolded here in ways that offended you, albeit via negligence towards your feelings instead of malice, and if you feel the need to settle things with me on that I only ask that you do it in private."

> "about your, weird fetish, until now!"

"That said, you also bear a share of the responsibility, due to not killing Petra earlier like I had suggested," he says, as a final closing statement.
Sleek Shimmer     The little fox's stance and weight shifts several timesa as Lilian moves around, but she only relaxes and starts to trot away once the gun is holstered once again. Back behind the chairs and over towards hers. Sure, she could teleport, but that's exhausting.

    On the way back, the little vixen makes some utterly horrible-sounding but perfectly natural fox noises. As if a yowling, upset housecat cat was forced to use the vocal abilities of an asthmatic, very-snub-nosed pug. Screechy whines with the sharpness of barks. All in the manner of someone growling and muttering about something-or-other while storming off.

    When she does reach her seat and shifts back to human form, she does so with arms folded and a surly look aimed at nobody in particular.
Ozhira     Ozhira is in no way sure what the hell just happened. However, as things start to wind down in their own fucked up way, the creature lowers their hands. Eyes continue to follow Lilian and mostly Petra as the girl is dragged to her seat by the throat.

    By the end of it, the creature has lifted a hand to touch their lips again, but less in general thought and more in the way someone might while considering a delicious meal. They take a few steps closer, leaning over Petra. Those who don't recognize their expression might mistake it for checking if she's alright. Those who do: That is the look of a predator who might scavenge a meal that another predator has abandoned.

    They ultimately decide against it, though. The Beast takes a few steps back and takes their seat again, glancing Petra's way every so often, then back to Ishirou on stage.

    There's a deep rumble that rattles through the floor, for some reason. In the Closet's substructure, the Devourer's offshoot biomass ceases its escape, then turns around and makes its way back. Within a few minutes-- some gross crimson sludge squeezes out through the floor near Ozhira's feet and disappears into the side of their shoe.
Hibiki Tachibana     This is, needless to say, not really the diversion Hibiki was expecting it to be anymore. There's enough tension in the air that she's not sure if she's going to have to get ready to do...something. What would she do? If you asked her right now, right this instant, she wouldn't be sure.

    Which she's not sure she likes. She'd probably just go entirely off her gut instinct, whatever it was.

    However, things coming to outright blows someway or another doesn't seem to be necessary - for how little that makes it any easier to see Petra getting hauled back by the throat. Hibiki is Aware of things. She's spoken quite a lot with Ishirou. She remembers what he told her last time they spoke, /and/ what's expected. But even when Petra is put back down, when she glances up stage-ward towards Ishirou for a moment, he can very clearly see the conflicted look on her face and the way her fists are tight at her side.

    And then she's letting out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging as she goes to sit back down next to Petra's seat. Both her and Miku seem to be unsure of what to say as the judging re-commences and things ramp back down from a fire to a simmer - with the later having been clasping her hands in her lap with a small and unreadable frown since Lilian's reply.
Petra Soroka     Petra sucks in heaving gasps and leaves her revolver in her jacket, as Lilian releases the pressure digging into her back. She starts struggling to her feet, pointedly ignoring the outstretched hand, chin lifted in petulant defiance to glare at Lilian--leaving an opening she didn't need anyways. The show of confidence is cut off with a surprised *beep*, tears immediately budding up in her eyes in reaction to the pressure.

    Rather than struggling, or clawing at Lilian's hands, Petra just feebly kicks her feet and twists her torso, seeming to less be trying to escape and more just releasing the diminishing energy of her earlier tantrum. Her face turns red, redder than it should, and tears stream down her cheeks and around her slightly open mouth. Lilian shoves her into the chair with no resistance, her head knocking back into the hard part of the seat before rolling tilted to the side, glistening grey eyes staring at Lilian with a storm of emotions; indignation and anger, but dulled and glassy.

    Petra's glare shakily matches Lilian's briefly, then flickers to the ground, avoiding eye contact until Lilian releases her. Her first breath of air is timed with the stroke of Lilian's finger across her cheek, coming out as a raspy whine--for one reason, or both.

    Petra hangs her head, chest heaving, for a few seconds, before lapsing into a coughing fit that sounds like it's tearing the inside of her throat. She spits on the ground, a globule of blood--Lilian didn't grab her that hard, did she?

    She sniffles, and with a grimy voice colored by phlegm and damage, she mutters to no one in particular. "I didn't even do anything *wrong* this time."
Wisconsin     The betting doesn't even make it off the ground when the fight is immediately over... and Denver pumps her fist. "I win!"

    Wisconsin siiiiiiiighs, hands her escort two crumpled 20 credit notes, and takes her seat again.
Metaphor Nonlethals shift within container; chemical potential, separated by flimsy glass and intent. Ever-so-slightly following the looks of the man standing next to her; can't distinguish style. Situations run through the mind. She wears the tension like a glove, as it wears her like a river. Wait for the shot. Anticipation mounting...

It never comes.

Gaze follows movement, fixed upon Lilian until she sits back down, and then some. Something twinges in her as Lilian suggests a sharp return to status quo; detachment as expected. Can't trust her. Good front on the radio. Regardless of her thoughts, though, she breaks her statue-still stance and slowly lowers back into her seat. Carefully considered limb positioning, as she tries to find an in-between for looking casual (as much as she can be) and having the geometry to launch out of her seat again. Legs spread slightly, lean forward. No chances.

Cylinder never leaves hand. Palmed, perhaps, within a grasp larger than it, but still present under folded hands on her lap. Even as she sits and makes an effort to return her focus to 'normal proceedings', she's still running mental ballistics. Too fast. Target points of interest preemptively. Collateral unnecessary. She hasn't made the mental connection between 'time sage', that speed, and an acutely remembered response; perhaps she would take a different approach if she had.

Even quieter. Lean to priest, attempting same level of inconspicuous movement as before, differing reasons. "I'd advise comparing combat capabilities later." Hesitation flashes through her mind; considerations of a conversation with a coworker. Disregard. "Coordination. Potentially important."
Lilian Rook     'That said, you also bear a share of the responsibility, due to not killing Petra earlier like I had suggested'

    "Yeah. I know."

    Next outfit.

    Despite that . . . disruption, Lilian's ability to carry on with roughly the same amount of enthusiasm she had prior to it is nothing less than eerie. Even though it's probably only perfectly rehearsed professionality, drilled in over ten thousand moments of cutthroat social maneuvering amongst noveaux royalty, its suddenness and utter unshakability combine to the point that it's easier to doubt one's own memories instead. It's like gaslighting distilled down a passive aura.

    "I happen to rather like double breasted coats, but the silk lets it down. It's a jarring combination of heavy and breezy, grand and informal, winter and lounge wear. Personally, I think Ishirou would look rather nice if you leaned into the coat and pieced together the aesthetic around it; especially with that attempt to broaden out his shoulders, or if you leaned into the romantic silk doublet look, but not both. The necktie would have looked excellent if it were folded down the front with the high collar window. Black and red go together well on their own, but with a blue-eyed boy, they don't fit into any scheme on the wheel. Why jaws? They don't match his aesthetic and don't go with the vines. To mark how edible he is? There's good taste in shoes. A nice crease in sharp dress pants never goes astray. Nice fundamentals, but mismatched. It's inheriting too many small touches that appealed to you personally, but don't all go into one outfit. Fifty points. It could have been seventy five so very easily, though. Mostly, I'd like to see Ishirou with some double breasted buttons now."

    Next outfit.

    "Oh my. Finally, someone with a keen eye for the material itself. That's excellent suiting fabric. A nice fit, too. A little dark, so the weight of it sitting on him balances him out. Shading down a blue is wonderful, of course; I'm glad someone finally did that. The cut . . . well, it's unusual. I can't call it a home run --contrasting that style with the modernized French suit is a little too sharp-- but I don't think it's bad. You tried something original, and it came out positive of neutral. Actually, with the luxurious patterning, I'd say that the bottoms really let down the top. I know that it's difficult to tell the differences apart with men's fashion, and all the fun things go on the chest, but it's crucially important to round it out. Where should I . . . Mmmh . . . Seventy . . . seven? Perhaps? It's hard to separate my impression from the objective quality."

    "Are we done? That puts number three in the least, followed by five, and then nine. I see that I'm rewarding originality a little more than perhaps I should, but I'd like to keep an open mind to other cultures, rather than the suits and blazers I'm used to."
%
Ishirou For once...

Ishirou doesn't fight POD coming out for this round of outfits!  Maybe the really bad ones are gone?  Maybe Ishirou burnt the last one so as not to cause Lilian enough pain to casually murder everyone in the Closet?  Who can say?

This time, Ishirou comes out in...

Ishirou is wearing a charcoal gray suit, with a white undershirt (no tie). He has white gold cufflinks on his wrists, a white gold analog watch on his left hand, and a similarly white gold signet ring on his right.

Clutched in one hand is a gold-handled chestnut cane, with a counterclockwise spiral motif. It does not contain any sort of hidden sword, but it's sturdy enough that he could likely clobber someone with it.

Finally, he's wearing a white hand-stitched cape over one shoulder. It billows dramatically whenever he turns or walks.  Ishirou isn't against this outfit.  In fact, he rather likes the cape on one side.  It's rather fetching, though he rarely knows what to do with the cane, so his weapon handling system ends up dragging it behind him when he's not actively using it.

What comes next is...

His outfit consists of a lightweight black sweater, with the fringes of what seems to be a plain white shirt beneath it. It's the kind of comfortable ensemble that one could wear around the house, tidied up into something more professional by the lower half - a pair of relaxed-fit pants in dark gray, belted and finished off by a pair of black, casual-lean dress boots.

Not a single bit of the extravagance that one would expect from Gilgamesh's official commentator doesn't seem to be present until one looks at the burgundy scarf that goes with it. What seems to be a capital 'I', handstitched in gold, can be seen on the end that hangs off from the front.

Ishirou rather /likes/ this one, it's got comfortable he really enjoys, casual enough for him to relax in...but also something he could wear in public without causing a fashion emergency.

The last (but not least) entry is...

It's a very fitting waistcoat and shirt, in salmon and grey.  There is a fashionable silk tie.  Attention to detail is done with the pants, as they are well pressed and khaki, and wingtips to finish the ensemble off.  

Ishirou is pretty neutral on this outfit, not rushing off the stage to get out of it, but he's not sure about the outfit either.  It's not something he'd pick /himself/ so he's more curious about what others think!
Father Berislav      Berislav doesn't bother asking Petra if she's alright. For one, her previous reaction to a similar line of questioning leaves little question as to her reaction. She doesn't seem to like being fussed over at all, much less in public. For two, he struggles to imagine if she ever was alright. The priest heaves a sharp, short, aggrieved sigh, relaxing in his seat.

     These two mix like fireworks and public libraries.

     "Mm?" He shifts, ever so slightly, turning an ear towards Metaphor. "Coordination, is it? We can talk later, certainly." Whether the topic will be 'combat capabilities,' his tone implies, is not guaranteed.

     Berislav entertains the remainder of the contest as if none of the previous disruption had happened, much as Lilian does, albeit slightly less convcincingly (the aforementioned sigh is a crack in his composure).

     "Oh, a shoulder cape. Those are always so dashing. Stately, even, given the cane." He smiles warmly.

     The casual outfit draws a 'hm' of interest from him. He hadn't considered the business casual approach, but Ishirou pulls it off well, especially with the scarf to add a touch of flair to the ensemble.

     "Mm, wingtip shoes," notes Berislav with an index tapping thoughtfully on his lower lip. "Classy, and with the waistcoat and tie, in those colors... I want to say the outfit gives an impression of Western academia."
Petra Soroka     Oh. There's still more to the competition. Petra dully watches Ishirou strut out on stage with yet another outfit, and a heavy weight settles in her stomach. It feels endless. There could be another hundred outfits, and each step Ishirou takes drags slower than the last. It's dizzying, and Petra's eyes unfocus, the stage blurring into a garish smear in her vision, time slowing to a crawl, each breath labored and painful, her frantic heartbeat still counting seconds in double time, roaring in her ears.

    Petra's head falls fowards, and she presses her hand to her mouth. Hoarsely, through her trembling fingers, she chokes out, "I'm, gonna be sick."

    Petra surges forwards out of her chair, then pauses, swaying from the momentum. She turns away from the stage, and boots tread heavily on carpet as she marches out of the auditorium. She feels energy returning to her with each step, and by the time she reaches the outdoors, she's practically bouncing.

    Tomorrow is going to be *so* easy! It's a war, now. One that Lilian is forced to participate in, with a known fragile part of herself on display. Petra can win a war. She's a soldier, not a maid, but if a maid outfit is the gun she's given to execute her rival, she'll take it.

    Petra skips to the Kana in the parking lot, gently massaging her throat with a bubbly expression before hopping inside and flying off.
Lilian Rook     Next oufit.
    Sigh

    Lilian doesn't exactly light up at first, already looking like she'd rather leave, but she does start to warm up to it as Ishirou struts his stuff. "I need not repeat myself from when I discussed suits earlier, I think. Most of this is a very tried and tested standard. You couldn't go wrong with it if you tried. It's blank canvas. Still, it's well-fitted, professional, and the few additions you actually added to it are quite nice. Ishirou was practically asking for a watch. The ring could be slimmer, but erring on white as opposed to rose or yellow karat was a sound choice. The loose cloth is actually quite good; that sort of thing often clashes with tailored suits, but it helps keep it all svelte and soft rather than a fit that a man eight inches taller and fifty pounds heavier should be wearing. The c-- cane?"

    Lilian looks as if she's only just noticed the thing, once the RCS stops floating it and Ishirou actually takes it in his hand. The clicks and clacks and scrapes and squeaks of metal on floor and hand on varnished wood draw her eyes to it magnetically. "The cane is . . ."

    All the expression bleeds out of Lilian's face as she dwindles off. Her fingers have curled a white-knuckled ball in her skirt on one side. She looks as if she might be sick. An awkward silence passes, broken only by a hard swallow. "Fine. It's fine." Her eyes slide away. "Good, even. A nice build. Perhaps too sturdy for him. What, I don't know, base eighty on totality, big points off for not trying as much as you should have, seventy for being too safe? Sure. That's fine. Next outfit." Lilian leans her jaw in one palm, brushing back her hair uncomfortably, elbow up on the desk. "Next outfit." she says to the nearest wall. "Come on. I'm tired of this."

    Next outfit.

    "A bit casual, isn't it? All the effort clearly went into that scarf, though it's a gorgeous one." Lilian says, a little queasily. "It's . . . fine. Comfortable. A great outfit for Ishirou. I recommend he purchase it, actually. Or is it already bought for him? But it doesn't belong in a fashion show. It's well-put together with no flaws I can think to mention; it looks clean and presentable and shows obvious, evident dress sense. But it's too conservative for a competition. It's just, normal. Fifty four points. Mostly for that scarf. Whoever did this one; good work, but you've been far too conservative. Two or three more personal touches might have gotten you first place."

    Next outfit.

    The sickness seems to have mostly worn out of Lilian's voice, though now she just sounds unenthused. "This is . . . just an ordinary outfit. The tie is nice, I suppose. Did we really finish on a perfectly average hiccup? This the minimum of how I'd expect an Elite representing the Paladins to dress himself inoffensively and presentably going somewhere new and casual. Thirty five points. It looks catalogue-y. Ishirou, get some decent shoes like that."
Metaphor Though her enthusiasm has been rendered mostly inert, Metaphor still gives an impression of taking the outfits in. Her hum of intrigue at the tenth one might be a bit too overenthusiastic; she does not appear to be perfect at appearing polite. It's not the outfit, of course; she thinks it's quite striking. But that is, presently, secondary to other priorities. The eleventh outfit gets a nod (maybe too enthusiastic dial it back) of approval, though she doesn't quite shake the thought that it's a bit too casual. Watch the judge. Watch if her gaze shifts. The final, though, Metaphor gives a legitimate "huh" to. Her train of unnecessarily panicked thought is completely derailed by the color choice, but she nods slowly as she considers it. It grows on her quickly.

The hiccup in thought gives her a chance to think on all of the entered outfits as a whole. The resistance to certain styles; understandable, now, if slightly disappointing. Many excellent outfits, but a large subset of suits and... disqualified options. She mulls for a second. Going with the second choice was good.

Petra standing to leave gets a sharp turn of the head, tracing her path all the way out of the doors, hanging for a second, then returning to the stage. Safer now. Good.

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of her chest. She really, really wishes she had something more important to do tomorrow.
Wisconsin     Denver lights up seeing Ishirou in her outfit at the end there, only be told her fav look for her movie stars is 'basic'. The cruiser wilts a bit, and Wisconsin claps her on the shoulder. "It's alright, if Ishirou WAS Guy Madison that would have killed."
    Denver grumps. "If Ishirou was Guy Madison I'd be weirded out."
Sleek Shimmer     With Petra running off, Shimmer follows her zooming off with her full attention. The smell of blood and the weird shift from misery to exuberance in her step doesn't go wholly unnoticed, but Petra's out of range before Shimmer can grasp anything much from it.

    It's enough to have her looking in the direction she ran off to with quite the puzzled, and increasingly frustrated look, before finally giving an exasperated snort and re-focusing on the contest. "That girl... is some kind of... is this what people mean, when they say someone's head is on backwards?" She ends up muttering, though sharp-eared ones might pick it up.

    Her attention finally is back on the outfits...

    The first, she certainly finds STRIKING. It completely captivates her attention for changing the young man's entire atmosphere, just like the others that grabbed her attention the most.

    The second gets another approving nod. Clearly she likes it, but it doesn't sing to her.

    And the last.. she gives it a good long peering from her seat, but seems mostly indifferent.

    "I lost count. What one are we on...?"
Ishirou With all of the outfits done, there is a moment of pause.  POD moves to the front of the stage, with Ishirou being hidden.  

-Thank you, Lilian Rook, for your judgment in this situation...and for not murdering someone in violation of the rules of the competition.  We will now reveal who has won, from third to first.-

There is a computer-generated drumroll.

The lights darken, and a spotlight appears over POD...which then starts to move in a circle.  Sleek is the first one spotlighted.  There is applause!

The light starts moving again...and this time Wisconsin is selected!  More applause!  

-And the final winner, the one whose outfit will be worn as the official Casgil line announcer wear...!-

The final spotlight shines over Metaphor.  There is confetti and a play of percussion music.  Out from the back, Ishirou comes out in her outfit again, smiling!  He really liked some of these outfits!  

-Congratulations, Metaphor.  You have won the title of Queen of Fashion!-
Ozhira     Ozhira has resolved to Be Here To Learn, rather than to Win. They listen intently to Lilian's evaluations of the outfit ensembles while keeping their eyes on Ishirou. The way she stumbles when the cane comes up, though, prompts a short glance towards the judge with confusion all over their face.

    It's here that the beast realizes Petra has departed. They straighten up in their seat, head swivelling in search of the girl. Not sighting her, Ozhira's head tilts and they let out a distinctly inhuman chirp. Their attention returns to the festivities without much further concern.

    The winners are announced and the creature claps their hands together for each one.
Wisconsin     Wisconsin eees a bit, and stands and waves at the second place. Close, but yeah that was a really good outfit that won. She bows to Metaphor, and then calls out. "She's right, Ishirou, you should try wearin' that cravat, it looks handsome on you!"
Hibiki Tachibana     The next set of outfits...and if the count isn't wrong, probably the last of them. It's a little hard to have the same enthusiasm for each new showing that was being displayed before; while Lilian and Berislav might (mostly) be able to keep going business as usual, Miku is still maintaining her pitched quiet, and Hibiki is grimacing a bit as she shuffles in her seat.

    As the initial one of the set one is gone over, Hibiki looks to be on the verge of opening her mouth to try and say something, although that's about when Petra gets up and moves off. "Ah, Petra--" Though, it comes weakly enough that it's not very audible in the first place, and she doesn't chase after her further. Neither does Miku, despite what she had done at the party prior.

    With neither of them aware of how things are on the outside, they keep to themselves as the second, and then the third ones are gone over. The lack of energy from their host doesn't seem to inspire any in them, although the black-haired girl makes a valid attempt as she puts a hand on her companion's shoulder.

"Ahaha...well, she's not wrong. Maybe we can talk with Ishirou about adding some of those personal touches once we're all done here?"
"...Yeah. He definitely likes it enough for that. Sounds...like a plan to me."
"Mmn! I wanted to make something he'd like more than something that'd win, so..."

    Even if they did actually win though, it probably wouldn't feel like it right this second.

    That said, they /do/ have someone who's come out on top - and as far as the both of them are concerned, regardless of anything else that happened, it's an extremely deserving one. As Metaphor is given the spotlight of the victor, the both of them still do have the ability to start bringing on the applause.
Sleek Shimmer     There's the briefest pause when the spotlight's on her. Shimmer wasn't quite expecting that. Her whole face lights up at first with shock, a deer in headlights moment... then, she leaps straight up and does a stylish flip and cutesy but modest refresh-stretch, then showy pose of an open palm held at head level swiftly closing into a fist grasping victory. As the spotlight moves away she drifts on some unseen wind back into her seat and watches where it goes next...

    "Hmmmmmm. There were an awful lot of interesting outfits on display. How come I never see them worn around towns...?" Nevertheless, she does start clapping as the winner's declared, perfectly pleased at making third.
Metaphor As the announcement is made, Metaphor quickly reaches into her bag and pulls out a cloak. Before the spotlight hits her, she's hastily stuffed the cylinder into an interior pocket on the thing. Breathe. Act normal.

Under the light, it now might be a bit obvious that her current outfit is noticably similar to her submission. The cloak, the color palette. Don't think about it.

As Metaphor is announced, she stands up, hands folded behind her back (to steady them), and gives a strong nod to Ishirou. Her nod towards Lilian is... perhaps a bit stiff. Her gaze shifts back to Ishirou quickly. At this point, though, it feels... hollow, really. There's that seed of accomplishment, something aching to have her burst out in laughter, but it is refused. Metaphor cannot drop the gravitas, now. She looks over the other members of the audience; applause steadies in one direction and destabilizes in another.

She's silent for a bit. Then, almost tersely, "I'm glad that... both of you enjoy my... creative vision." A pause. "I wish to... congratulate the rest of the competitors, as well. A- most of the rest of the... entries were truly fantastic. I know I will... consider some concepts for myself, as well. Thank you."

Another glance around the audience. Was that too much? It feels overwhelmingly polite in retrospect. Wasn't she here because she wanted to make something Ishirou wanted, not to compete? God dammit.

It only now dawns on her that she doesn't know if there was some prize for winning.

She hopes there isn't.
Father Berislav      "Congratulations, Metaphor," says Berislav warmly, applauding for her. "I knew that you had an eye for fashion the moment I saw what you'd picked out for Ishirou. He'll wear it well when he commentates, I'm certain."

     He holds out a hand for Hibiki and Miku, as if to say 'don't worry.' His smile is not strained for this gesture, but it is muted, somewhat. His eyes meet theirs briefly.

     "Ah, Lilian," he adds. "Thank you for the feedback. I do wish I'd been a little more daring in my color choices. I look forward to seeing you at the tournament--and Kale, of course." Just the two of them? Why not anyone else? The priest smiles, then quietly leaves.