(In prog.)
The hide-away Martin Savoir kept in Kailantas was often overrun by dustbunnies and rats, and not humans and their lycan companion. The ride from Val'ail to Kailantas was long and terrifying. Unfortunately, it hadn't gotten them there in time to save their dear friend Judas Mycroft from death. Martin recalled, easily, the look on Regina's face as the floor dropped beneath him and Judas's neck snapped on the drop. He had died quickly, and that was a God's divine grace, no doubt. It hadn't made Regina's acceptance of the hanging any easier.
He could hear her upstairs, lifting his dark, sad eyes to the ceiling as he listened to her feet pad across the floor. In the master bedroom on the second floor of their hide-away, Regina Aster Mycroft was pacing back and forth as she waited for time to go by faster, praying for it to go faster. The longer she waited, the sicker she felt, but Martin had been clear: She couldn't claim Judas's body as herself, and she couldn't claim it as his wife for at least a few hours.
She waited an hour, pacing across the hardwood floor and ignoring the knocking on the door that was Martin's wife, checking up on her. Finally, as the sun began to dip, Regina pulled the bench away from the vanity and sat down, staring at her reflection. Her eyes were ready and wet, cheeks stained with dried tears. She was grateful that she didn't wear make-up often; it would have no doubt smeared with tears. Taking a shaky breath, she picked up the cloth out of a bowl of cold water and wiped her face clean.
Applying the makeup was crucial, but not yet. She had more important issues to deal with, namely the ears and tail that marked her quite obviously as a Lycan. She rose from her spot and wandered to the wardrobe where her disguise was hung up, taking the dress out gently and setting it on the bed. It was what one would expect a mourning wife to wear, black and white. She spotted something red sitting atop a shelf in the wardrobe and pulled it out with a small cringe. It was Judas's headband; she recognized it because she had been told to steal it from atop his head as he slept more than once. She never could.
Carrying it as though it was made of glass, Regina returned to the vanity and sat down. Brushing her hair took a great deal of time, taming the locks so that they were less all over the place and more or less in the same general area. After she brushed the snarls from her hair and tugged it into place, her hands sought out the red ribbon again. It was wide enough to cover her ears, and as long as they didn't twitch, it should've been enough concealment to hide them from view. She carefully wrapped the scarf around her head, covering both ears and tying it snugly beneath her hair.
She turned her head to both sides, admiring her reflection in the ear now that her ears were flat against her head, and relatively hidden. It would be a good thing that it was dark; the guards wouldn't suspect. She flicked her tail as she rose, retrieving a couple of strips of cloth from a drawer in her vanity. Her tail pulled itself into place quite well against the inside of her left leg, and there, she wrapped the cloth around her tail and her leg a few times to keep it in place. She turned and looked again in the mirror, jaw clenching as she looked for any miniscule trace that she wasn't Human.
The disguise would be better when she was fully dressed, but for now she had to deal with imagining it as a finished project. Returning to the vanity once more, she pulled out a tub of dark cream. Foundation, to cover her tattoos. She began applying it liberally, wiping off the excess until the dark marks were covered up her arms and chest. Her back was no concern; the dress would cover that. But she did not want to risk the marks on her chest and arms to be seen. Once that was done, she stopped and took a deep breath, staring at her reflection.
She could still see Judas's stunned face as he spotted Regina's dark head, staring up at him helplessly. She couldn't get him down, not in time. Not without getting them both killed. Before he could do anything, call out to her, say anything, the floor had dropped. She closed her eyes tightly, tears welling up again behind her eyelids, and tried desperately to will them away. She had to keep it together. Being the distraught wife later was fine, it was required. But crying now would ruin everything. Martin wouldn't let her do this if he thought she couldn't handle it, and she could. She needed to do this. For Judas's sake.
Regina opened her eyes carefully, looking at her reflection again, and put the body paint away. She pulled out a smaller box that Emilie had given her. Facial makeup. She began to apply it gently, plucking and painting and brushing and blushing and by the end of it, she didn't even recognize herself in the mirror. Her eyes were painted red, and lined black. Her lips were pale, her face a rosy hue even with her tan firmly in place. She nodded a little to herself. It would do. Rising from her spot, she walked over to the dress.
It was beautiful, in retrospect. Something she'd be proud to wear for Judas in any other situation. But now, looking at it, and recalling exactly why she was wearing it... it just made her sick to her stomach. If she had eaten before, she would have surely thrown it up by now.
Picking up the first piece of the multipieced outfit, she slid it on and adjusted the white slip until it was sitting on her just right. By now the body paint had dried, and though it would surely flake off on the dress itself, the slip didn't flake any of it off. Next was her bloomers, though she was tempted to leave them. But to do so and be caught would surely throw a wrench into her plans, so she pulled them and her tights on without fussing, adjusting them just so.
The corset presented it's own problems, though, once she got it over her head. She adjusted it and fit it to her torso, but the lacing was in the back. She raised a hand to rub her eyes, and stopped, cringing. "<********>." She breathed, walking to the door. She cracked it open and looked around, but it seemed both Martin and Emilie were downstairs. Wincing a fair bit, she exited her hiding spot and treaded to the stairs lightly.
"Emilie?" She called, wincing at how her voice cracked. She needed a drink. When no one answered, she tried a little louder. "Emilie? Em!"
Martin came to the stairs instead, looking up at the half-dressed Regina. He blinked, then looked away, sheepish. "She went out. What do you need?"
"O-oh." Regina looked down, and winced, sighing. "I can't lace this up." She said, looking down the stairs at Martin. "Mine are all laced in the front, but this one--"
"Right." Martin cut her off, and nodded, ascending the stairs. "I'll do it." He offered. Regina eyed him then nodded, turning around in the hallway. Martin's fingers were quick at work, tugging the ribbons into place to tighten the corset until it was tight enough to hold her shape. He tied the ribbon near the small of her back, then looked it over. "... How's that?"
"Fine." Regina said, turning to face him. "Thank you, Martin." She muttered, looking up at him. "... You're taking me over afterwards, yes?"
"Yeah." Martin nodded. "Promise."
