|[ Bebe Gallais | Vague ]| (seethru) wrote in beyond_evo, @ 2018-07-07 05:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | vague |
MY WHOLE WORLD TURNS MISTY BLUE.
((ooc: Backdated to yesterday!))
Poor Jenny. She was going to find herself in quite the madhouse. Papa Numero Un was in the kitchen wrapping slices of cold meats to put into the picnic hamper he was preparing for her, which wasn't too strange, but Papa Numero Deux was in the bathroom with a performance artist named L'Impasse, the two of them attempting to remove the glue he'd poured over his bald head without scalping him, while a drag queen known as Cherry Cola was hissing in Italian in the lounge, firing off vicious accusations into the empty room that someone had stolen her scarlet lace front wig even though it was hanging innocently on the back of the door. Bebe would've been embarrassed about her friend being greeted by these scenes but this was an average day in the Robicheaux-Guyard-Gallais household so it all seemed perfectly normal to her. Besides, Jenny was Jenny. Bebe was fairly sure her best friend would be entertained by the goings on rather than horrified.
She waved off the spitting drag queen as she passed through the lounge on the way to her bedroom, laughing at her antics but not bothering to point out the location of the errant wig. Her excitement levels were too high to be deterred from her goal, which was to dress herself up in anticipation of Jenny's arrival. Dressing up wasn't a straightforward concept for Bebe, the evidence of which was plain to see when she opened the door to her closet and surveyed the outfits draped over hangers within. High fashion was not the way her wardrobe could be described. It wasn't that Bebe had poor taste or that she wasn't interested in nice clothes; quite the opposite, she would've loved to deck herself out in finery every day. She was Parisian, after all.
But that was not her lot in life. Any dress or shirt or blouse she shrugged over her shoulders would disappear the moment it entered her field of invisibility. There was no point in her wearing expensive fabrics or sophisticated cuts or designer labels. Tasteful colours and striking patterns were an irrelevance. The only thing she could do to look like she was wearing clothes at all was change her silhouette, alter her outline in some way. That was how she dressed up. Outfits which were, by any other measure, hideous were fine by her just as long as they changed her shape. Sometimes, she felt a pang when she was getting dressed for the day, a stab of sadness first thing in the morning as she remained makeupless and put on an ugly shirt just because the cuffs were wide. She wanted the opportunity to worry about how she looked like everybody else. She wanted to be pretty. She wanted to be noticed.
But not today. No negativity was allowed in her headspace today. Jenny was coming! It was a special day. So she picked out one of the more dramatic eyesores in her wardrobe, an electric blue prom dress with big puffy shoulders, a voluminous tulle skirt and an oversized bow at the hip. Awful but it would serve her purposes. The blue of the cheaply constructed dress faded out into transparency as it met her skin, as did the skirt and the bow, only edges remaining to indicate the garb still existed at all. Bebe twirled, enjoying the shape made as the material swept around her invisible legs, and clapped her hands together excitedly. Time to go help Papa Numero Un put the finishing touches on the hamper before her friend arrived. With a broad smile almost discernible on her face, she headed for the door.
Then paused. She'd caught something out of the corner of her eye, in the full length mirror still mounted against the wall of her room, a relic of the days when she had a reason to look at her reflection. She thought she saw something. Movement. She thought she saw something as she passed. Something blue.
Hesitating, Bebe tilted her head as she eyed the mirror. Nothing there. Nothing out of the ordinary anywhere else in her room either. Huh. Must've imagined it. She was distracted by an ear-splitting shriek from beyond her door, followed immediately by a string of unrepeatable Italian curses. Bebe bounded out into the hallway, laughing. "Found the wig then?"