Held By Thorned Vines, Preforming On Broken Mirrors

Often what has to be done is less than favourable and you wish that there was another way to do it.

And other times there is an easier alternative you're simply oblivious to.

5:23 pm, Ario is throwing on cheap drugstore makeup in a thrifted dress he patched up himself.

Four mouths to feed including his own, heck maybe he can bump it up to five if this goes well enough.

Though one can get rich from breaking blocks, running around, or killing a few people, he's using what many people he once knew called his "natural and gifted beauty" to hopefully make more, and hopefully make it fast.

Though he wouldn't if he knew the first 3 were possible.

Ario found a fancy party of sort, no clue what kind he just knows it's where some wealthy playboys will be coming by, a party with shockingly no guest list. His plan is to pay a visit to the event and get a fair share of money through...any means possible. Which he only hoped would be pickpocketing but he knew it would be ignorant to think that's all it will take.

Fuuck, how doees thiis woork???

He's struggling with applying the makeup he got and has been for the past 15 or so minutes. While at the drugstore getting the makeup, he got a few cheap bulk fashion magazines to use as reference since he hasn't done this before.

And doesn't want to at all.

It's not that he hates makeup or is completely inexperienced with it, but all he's done in the past is abstract and experimental. Not...whatever he's doing now.

This doesn't give him the same joy as the art he's dabbled in before. Really, no joy at all.

It's like what drawing realism feels like to him, he thinks he can do it, thinks it won't be too bad as he watches what he's made fall into an uncanny valley as if it's telling him he failed.

Except it's on his face now.

A warped reflection looks back at him from the bathroom mirror. Patches of his face are inconsistent colours, covering the marks and wrinkles he's gotten used to, now looking so scarily flat. The shape of his head appears sharper and more refined, but touching his own cheek tells him it isn't.

Maybe it's his skill, maybe the cheapness of what he's using is really making itself apparent, maybe its even the clammy feeling of the thick layers of paint on his face,

But no matter how he thinks of it, no matter what he's asking why about, they all have the same answer.

It's juust not riight.

Blending stuff out with his finger seems to look...not better in his perspective, but more like his references. A brush would be better to use but he can't spend much just for this attempt of a plan.

It works. He isn't going any further.

His reflection still isn't right to him, but he looks like the women in the magazines below him.

That in itself isn't right to him, but it is what he was going for.

The whole point is that it's not him. Here he's playing the part of young, wealthy, and sultry woman. A flirtatious femme with a mystique that drives intrigued potential suitors and those just ""looking for a good time"" alike down a path that would find it's home in a romance novel sitting in the back of a bookstore, just like this woman, waiting for someone to stumble upon it.

A role he could picture himself playing so well, a role he's written for others to play in the past, a role he's made characters of his own play in the past.

The shoe fits well enough but it's uncomfortable now that he's about to go out and preform.

Or they're just his nerves talking. Yeah that sounds right. It will all be fine once he's actually out there.

Ario sighs as he steps back to see his completed look.

The once torn up yellow satin slip dress he got for 5 coins surprisingly looks alright with his subpar sewing skills. Sure the stitching on the inside is a mess but that won't be seen, or worst case scenario it's ripped off too quickly to notice.

The dress really hugs at his curves, making them feel more prominent than he already thought they were. Maybe it's a little too small or his stitch job was worse than he thought at first. But it's to late to change it.

He used some of the foundation to cover any skin marks and his tattoos and just praying that it will stay put as he sweats buckets in a dress that's too tight in a room that's likely too warm. And like the foundation on his face, it simply feels uncomfortable.

He looks like he could be one of the women in the magazines on the bathroom counter in front of him.

It's now 5:58 now.

Ario should get going now.

He still looks in the mirror.

I'm goiing to be seeen liike this.

I will be known liike this.

He grabs an old handbag and pair of pretty flats he got while getting the dress.

Ario walks out of the castle hoping none of the team sees him.