Houston watched the girls' work for a few moments before attending to himself. He would be a woman. His true height was pretty average, 5'7.5", and easily changeable. He slipped quickly into new clothes. Tights, a womans blouse, complete with fake boobs, tucked into an a-line skirt. It was white and black, and perfectly plain. He loved it. He slipped his (thankfully) skinny feet into a high heels. He had been blessed with a lithe body, the build of a dancer, which was so changeable it was almost funny. His hair, which was indeed died, fit perfectly under a curly black wig which he topped with a plain, yet noticeable, headband.
Quickly he applied light make up to his already-covered face. Lipstick, blush. He added fake eyelashes and took off his fake eyelashes. He glanced at his watch. "One minute ladies." He skimmed over them. Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all.
He nodded, smiling. "You may use anything in this room," he looked across the room. "Of course, I reccomend using at least one wig, plenty of make up, and throwing something over your clothes. You might want to try altering your height, or," He nodded to Noir, who was painfully thin, "Some padding to disguise your build." He glanced at the wall clock. "Remember, time is of the essence. So ask me if you want any help."
ooc// Now that there is actually something happening, I will continue posting more regularly. Not even a Sith could stop me. /lame-o Star Wars reference.
Houston clapped his hands together. "Good!" He said, motioning towards the girl with the black hair. "Just step on up to the front to the room and when you are done introducing yourself, follow me into the costume studio." He turned, heading to the far-back corner of the classroom, where Parker had neglected to notice a little door. "Class!" He called out from behind him. "Wait patiently. Someone keep an eye on the time. If we are gone more than five minutes, come knock on the door." And with that, he opened the door, and stepped inside.
The closet was really not much of a closet at all. It was big, the size of two dorm rooms, and filled to the inch with costumes and accessories. In a back corner, there was several shelves of wigs, and besides that, a table laden with make up. A small counter top seemed to be dedicated to contacts, and another section dedicated to fake hair, such as eyelashes and mustaches. Houston did not hesitate a second as he strode directly to this corner and began assembling two piles, one for the brunette with the pixie-like cute, and the other for the gothic girl.
He waited for the girl's to come in before launching into a brief explanation. "The object of this exercise is to transform you, in under five minutes, into someone completely unrecognizable. We will then have the class guess who is who. The critical key to recognizing someone is to find a trait that can not be changed, or changed easily. Perhaps it is the slight hitch in their voice when the use words with "l"s. Perhaps it is the obsession with chocolate. Whatever it is, it your jobs to be able to both find that trait and alter it within mere minutes. Questions before we begin? No worries, everything can be changed back to normal. We won't use hair dye today."
ooc// I am sorry for the long wait; I got distracted by my family's Star Wars marathon. XD
Houston watched quietly as the last person, who just happened to be Parker, turned in his notecard. He brought himself to his feet, endlessly graceful, as strode to the counter. Picking the stack of cards in one swoop, he skimmed the first one carefully and tossed it in the air. "Worthless," he declared. He skimmed the second. "Nice answer to the fourth, the rest are entirely incompetent." He repeated this several more times before noticing a girls' hand was raised. Letting the notecards drop to his side, he approached Noir. "Yes?" He asked pointedly. "Wait, no. You have just volunteered yourself for a demonstration, love." He smiled.
"Stand up, now don't be shy." He motioned to the girl and faced the class. "Introduce yourself, and then we will begin. Don't worry, these tests matter not to your grade." He smiled, again, this man was perpetually grinning, and turned to his students. "I need one more volunteer."
Parker found himself intent on the teacher’s every word. As dramatic as he was, he was an interesting character. He spoke of what they would be doing in class, being quite vague. He used tons of hand gestures and Parker often found himself distracted by a twirling of an index finger, the flip of a hand. He walked so gracefully, and so purposefully. Like a dancer, he kept in beat, and hit the ground toe-ball-heel.
Houston, as most of the kids called him, not allowing themselves to use his full title for fear of being ridiculous, paused mid-speech. Turning with his back to the class he walked into a corner, and sat down, facing the wall. “Pop quiz!” He called out over his schedule. The class stirred. “On the front table there is note cards and some pens. Grab one of each, and sit back down.” The class did as told, exchanging looks of fear. Parker wasn’t worried, though he was curious. Finally, the class settled back into their seats. Still facing the wall, Houston began giving them directions.
“Write your name, and number one to five.” He paused a moment, and then began. “In the future, you will meet people purposefully trying to hide themselves. It is your duty to recognize and memorize the physical traits of anyone and everyone you will ever meet, so you can pick them out of a crowd. This is the main focus of disguise, as a class. You will also learn how to hide yourself to prevent others from recognizing you. But that is next week.” Parker blanched, though he was interested. What type of class was this?
“On the first line, write my natural eyecolor.” Houston began. “On the second line, write down my hair color and length. On the third, take a guess at my real height.” He paused, and the class went silent, trying to remember. “On the fourth, describe my walk.” Parker new this one, and he launched into a description of the graceful glide. “On the fifth and final line, write down the one trait I could never disguise.” He paused. “When you are finished, place the note cards on the counter.”
ooc// I luve Near. I wants to glomp him. Badly. It was now five minutes past the start of class. Four other students had trickled in, much to Parker’s releif. However, the teacher had yet to show. The clock ticked in the silent room.
“This is ridiculous. He is so late.” Parker’s train of thought was cut off by a loud bang. The door swung open, rather loudly and in pranced what seemed to be a male. He, presuming it was a he, was dressed flamboyantly for the academy. He obviously hadn’t gotten the memo about the dress code, Parker thought wryly. The man looked as if he had stepped out of the 80's. Complete with neon pants, paisley vest, sunglasses, and a headband. The man himself, Parker thought nothing of. Red/brown hair. Average height. Average build. Really, average in general. Minus the clothes.
The man strode across the room and spun on his heals, facing the students. The man then struck a ridiculous pose, one similar to a ballerina. His hands fell when he saw their faces, as did his face. “No applaud? Pity.” He brought himself to his full height and surveyed the classroom. “I expected more of you.” He mused aloud, and then spun around. With his hands clasped on his back, and he began prowling the length of the room. “I!” He began, speaking clearly and loudly. “Am your teacher! You may call me...” He paused, for dramatic affect. Everything about this man was dramatic. Parker didn’t know wether to hate it or embrace it. “Sir Houston Elvendork!” ((ooc/ Harry Potter reference. Anyone catch it?)) He grinned, like a maniac. “I teach this class, Disguise, and all Drama. I also teach...” He paused, his face a serious mask. “I forgot.” He grinned again, his face lighting up. He paused, finally, and faced the class. “Let class begin!” He clapped, and Parker plunged, headfirst, into the weirdest class he had ever attended.
Parker wondered to himself if perhaps he had gotten the wrong room anyways. The class was supposed to start in a minute, and yet he was the only one in the classroom. It was empty, and silent. He couldn't even hear the people in the hallway. It was like everyone had just upped and offed themselves from the face of the planet. 'What a depressing thought,' Parker thought to himself mildly. 'Besides, the chances of even one person commiting suicide was...' he did the calculations in his head.
It was quiet, and the silence was getting on his nerves. He was really beginning to doubt that he had gotten the right room. He examined his map. Japanese was next door, supposedly, but it didn't show this room on the map. It didn't even show a closet. He grimaced.
Taking out a black pen, Parker rolled up his sleeve on his left arm. There, in black ink, was a dragon. He continued on his masterpeice. He had been working on it for a week now, and he was having thoughts about getting it inked in, permanetly. His strange obsession with body art was aparent if you saw him beneath the clothing. Designs covered his body; some fading, some recent. He wasn't particularly good, but the rough sketches in black stood out on his white skin magnificantly.
ooc// If I didn't suck at canons, I would volunteer myself for a position, but that would be epic fail on my half.
