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 Posted: Sun Aug 21, 2011 4:55 pm
While most of a monsters' power came from physical strength, Calder's kind put a lot of stock in appearances. You certainly couldn't collect fear if you couldn't look dazzling enough to attract a human. There was no room for split ends and knots, and Calder has a whole arsenal of brushes, combs, and hair accessories in a carry case to show the seriousness in which he took hair care. That was why, in the morning and at night, he would comb his hair. During his first year, he would first groom his hair and then force sticks and various other plant-life in it to make it look horrible, but he had come to terms this year that he didn't need to tone down his looks. This was mainly because Murchadh, his guardian, had forbidden him to look like he was dragged through the dirt.
So he found a spot in one of the vacant common rooms, opened his chest, and started to comb his hair. Combing long hair like his on his own meant he needed a good place to sit as it would take a while to do it right, not to mention he rather enjoyed it. It gave him time to think, and what with all that he had bottled in his head, he had a lot to think about.
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Posted: Mon Aug 22, 2011 10:05 pm
As a complete and utter opposite of Calder, Nuk did not put any stock in appearances, instead relying on pure brute strength and bravado to get his point across. He had no interest in attracting humans (or much of anyone else, for that matter) -- in fact, he almost prefer it if he didn't attract them. While he'd never had any personal experience, considering he was severely underaged for that kind of thing, he had had plenty of experience with other sort of prey, and he knew exactly what he wanted from a meal. He wanted a hunt. He wanted them to feel that prickle along their skin that gave them the barest inkling someone was watching them, enough to make their heart beat just a little faster. He wanted them to just barely hear the rustle of leaves as he circled, just enough for them to know something was close by, their skin starting to get clammy from sweat. And then he wanted them to run. Wanted them to scream when they felt his breath on their neck.
He wanted to stalk prey, not trap it. So he cared so very little about appearances.
That was evident enough in the way the skinwalker generally looked that afternoon, meandering the monster dorms with a bored look that said 'I don't care today' and an outfit to match. Since becoming a Knob, he had stopped wearing the tan-hide outfit he had worn as a year 1, shirking off a little of the 'traditional' look in favor of more modern, practical jeans. Lets face it, jeans had pockets, not to mention he'd heard from a random ghoul that jeans on boils looked hot. He hadn't even bothered with a shirt -- having no fashion sense nor a patience for taking it on and off when he worked out so frequently anyway, he'd decided just to skip the middle man and go without much of the time. His pelt was, at best, severely bedraggled, not at all the sleek, shiny fur most people thought of when they thought wolf. Seemed he definitely hadn't heard that ghouls probably preferred the soft, sleek look better than the tangled-to-hell look. Which... pretty much summed up his hair as well.
It was so bad, the two braids in the front blended in completely with the rest of the gnarled mess that was his head.
Pushing open the door to a common room he thought was vacant, Nuk sauntered in with a bored look and a mild scowl, one that only deepened when he noticed that there was another occupant in the room. Surprisingly, however, it wasn't a large change -- while he had had a rough relationship with Calder in general, it seemed that the identity of the occupant didn't matter so much to him. In fact, it looked more like just a mild annoyance, one he showed in a slightly more slouched posture and a soft 'hmf' as he collapsed on the couch across from where the other boil sat, throwing both arms over the back and shifting his eyes lazily to Calder. And for a few moments, he let there be silence -- sulking a bit, the skinwalker watched the other comb his hair, expression flat and mildly skeptical as molten amber eyes watched the brush over and over. Over and over, until finally he quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head a bit and giving him an even more skeptical look, possibly a little judgmental as he spoke up. Then again, Nuk wasn't really known for being sensitive.
"What're you doing?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Aug 25, 2011 8:54 pm
Calder paused mid-brush when he noticed Nuk come waltzing in. Usually most monsters would notice the room was occupied and leave, or go into the corner to study. The odd expression wasn't something he wasn't familiar with considering Calder had yet to see anyone else spend this amount of time on his hair though he did have to wonder if Junko did the same thing. There were a lot of ghouls and a few boils with long hair, and he wondered if any of them went through the sort of grooming he did each day. Not that Calder couldn't go a few days without a comb, but with his new outlook on his appearance, he decided that combing had to be done. That and....well, he was hoping the more he combed his hair, the more white would comb out and leave it nice and black.
Not that anyone here would get what black hair meant to him. Nuk here, who plopped on the opposing couch and was looking at him, had black hair from birth probably. Well, probably nicer hair than what he was currently sporting. Calder remembered how much effort he had to put into just making his hair messy when it was naturally sleek and didn't tangle easily, just to keep others from seeing him as too 'pretty' and not wanting to be his friend. Nuk made it look effortless. Everything seemed effortless in his messy appearance, and Calder wondered if Nuk was doing the same thing he was doing his first year. Did Nuk feel that he was too pretty, and that he wanted to make himself look more like a scruffy monster to be more accepted by everyone?
Calder continued to comb, watching Nuk watch him, and reached down to replace one brush with a finer, more thicker brush. Then he started to comb again, taking a long lock of his hair and brushing. A fresh, green ribbon sat on the table, ready to be used, but for now, Calder's long hair tumbled about his face and shoulders, a glistening black that looked almost wet, and melting into ghost white. At the question, Calder looked up, and found himself frowning at the sad braids that were blocking part of Nuk's face. It was like his hair was crying out to him. Save us, Calder. We're being destroyed. Look at these split ends!
"I'm brushing my hair." He said, a obvious answer to an obvious answer. "I started to keep my hair in better condition. It's good to keep yourself well groomed to show off what natural looks you were given." He looked at the boil, wondering why Nuk's hair looked that bad. "Ya know, you don't have to have your hair look that way." He was serious and concerned, and spoke in a way a recovered alcoholic might talk to a friend going for the 8th bottle of beer. "It's okay. No one will hate you for looking pretty." Though, even he had to think about using the word 'pretty' with Nuk. With his hair like that, he found himself repelled, but the tight jeans and lack of shirt helped. The wolf smell - the pelt was like wearing a necklace of garlic and Calder was the vampire. The predator smell made him on edge, but luckily he could clearly see it was beyond dead - and really ratty looking.
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 3:16 pm
"No, really?"
It took some real effort for the skinwalker not to roll his eyes at Calder when he replied with the obvious, his molten amber eyes sliding halfway closed to give him a flat, sarcastic look as he replied. Not that he could really blame him... given the choice, Nuk always took the smart-a** route, something obvious from his own response. Still, it almost didn't seem like Calder meant to be a smart-a**... it felt more like a serious answer, as if he wondered if Nuk couldn't see the obvious. Or maybe he was misinterpretting. It was hard to tell. In the end, the skinwalker gave him the benefit of the doubt, tilting his head up to roll his eyes towards the ceiling for a second before letting it loll back around, one eyebrow lifted quizically. "I mean, why? Not why-are-you-brushing-your-hair, why are you brushing your hair... like that." Lifting one arm where he had draped it over the back of the couch, he made a general motion towards the three specialized brushes, his eyes lingering on the green ribbon. He'd seen Calder wear them before, but by themselves they were like little snakes, and Nuk furrowed his eyebrows a little to stare at them for a second, as if they were just waiting to bite him. Still, in a moment he'd lifted his eyes again to where the Kelpie was seated. "Seems like a lot of effort..."
Now that he thought about it though, it kind of fit his vision of 'Calder.' Calder was... something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was an air of ... elegance almost to the boil, something that did not make it surprising to the skinwalker that he was brushing his hair. He did, however, take a second to consider something before speaking up again, a little grin curling the corners of his mouth. "Tryin' to get yourself a date?" he added, genuinely curious, although he couldn't keep the slightest hint of a taunt from his voice. There wasn't anything wrong with trying to get a date but... well, old habits died hard. They hadn't ever really gotten along too well, what with Calder trying to convince Shehk he was some sort of villain, and Nuk being.... his evil predatory bully-self.
And it seemed Calder was ready to dish out some snide comments of his own. Except it took a few seconds for Nuk to come to that conclusion. He was far too distracted by a different realization.
Calder was pretty. That was it, as soon as the kelpie had said the word it had just fit like a glove, and Nuk's eyebrows lifted a little, relaxing as the word slid into place under the classification of 'Calder.' Even he was willing to admit it, willing to even think the word 'pretty' without feeling immasculated. Narrowing his eyes a bit, he leaned forward a bit from where he had been reclining to give the kelpie a slow look-over, from his silky dual-toned hair all the way down his well-kept form. It was only after that his eyes flicked a little to the side, eyebrows furrowing a bit as he considered what Calder had said, lips pursing a bit.
"Hey. I am not pretty. I am the opposite of 'pretty.' Only time anyone says pretty in the same sentence as my name is 'pretty evil.' Or pretty 'douchey,' at least."
Snorting, he folded his arms across his chest, leaning back defiantly. Another second's pause...
"... you think I'm pretty?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 3:38 pm
The heavy sarcasm he got, and for Nuk's flat expression, Calder returned with narrow, green eyes and pursing lips. What was that? 1 minute. He doubted that was Nuk's record for turning into a d**k, but it was still rather quick especially for what had been a very simple start to a very simple conversation. It put Calder off, and he brushed his hair a little more quickly than before, tail flickering behind him, having been combed but needed to be slightly oiled before he was finished. There was a lot of preparation he had to go through, and Calder hoped that if Nuk was going to glare at him and poke fun at his brushes that he would find some other place to be bored and grumpy at. Like a open grave - one that would be recently filled by a deaf caretaker who wouldn't see a boil flailing for help inside.
The idea made his lips curl at the ends, but he tried not to look in any way pleased in Nuk's company. At least at that moment.
As Nuk spoke, Calder listened and glanced at his row of brushes and the little case he had sitting on the table to hold them, along with a bottle of scented oil and mirror with a degree of defensiveness. It felt as if Nuk was insulting his things, and he felt rather personal about these combs. These were not combs you just picked up at the Maul under Scare Care. No. Like most things in his clan, they were hand crafted and given to him through the years, every new brush another addition to his collection. He hadn't used them in a long time, having been ashamed of his looks, but now he used them with a growing sense of pride.
Huffing, he continued to brush and flicked his eyes over to the boil at Nuk's familiarity with the word 'pretty' in context with his own name. "I bet others would call you that." He confirmed, feeling that he should be adding that on now. "It's pretty rude to insult a kelpie's combs." He pointed, decided to add more to that list. It probably wasn't the first time the skinwalker had heard that one either.
He only flustered a bit at the confirmation of pretty that he orginally gave. "I suppose." He looked up, as if pretending he never put that description out there. "...if you bothered taking care of yourself."
His gaze returned. "Clearly you don't put any effort in your appearance. Is that just something skinwalker culture embraces or is that..." To which he pointed to twisted mass of hair. "....supposed to be an actual braid."
It was sad and pathetic looking, and Calder rose, taking his brush with him, and moved about the table to flop on the couch next to the boil. "I put a lot of effort in in hair because that is my ability. My kind hunts by attraction. You can't lure anything to you if you look like you crawled out of the dumpster. Might work to get some prey here, but my olders tell me that humans don't very much care for sickly, dirty animals." Not that a kelpie was one, but that was the disguise after all.
"This.." He showed off the comb. "...is just something in our arsenal. Some creatures hunt with fangs and others with spears. This is what we use, and they are probably the best brushes you will ever set your eyes on." He turned the thick bristles over to show the elegantly cared handle. The border was swirly like rolling waves, and created a portrait for several horses running through a sea of skulls, water, and cattails. Kelpie art.
Calder reached up to touch the pathetic braid and frowned as he inspected it before giving it a yank. "...and I don't need you telling me about boils." He was rather bitter about that subject after Cade left him. His life was miserable being single, and he didn't want people poking fun at his mending heart. No matter how much he combed his hair, he couldn't land a boilfriend. "....especially from someone who looks as if you are trying to keep anyone from wanting to be around you with THAT look." Ugh. The wolf pelt smelled! HE HATED WOLVES!
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