Tomoe has been around enough western clothing by now to not be off put by the styles presented. In a way she is relieved to see the floor length skirts in lieu of short skirts or form fitting pants, but she doesn't seem to be having as much luck where the top of the garment is concerned. Were it a simple matter of her being shy or conservative she could have overcome it--but that wasn't quite the case. She held her left hand to her opposite shoulder where, underneath her clothing, a massive scar divided her torso running down to her navel in front and to the base of her spine in the back. The dresses all seemed to be designed to either display too much in the front or back--or in many cases both. She had yet to attempt to try anything on, not wanting to waste her time or take the chance of the scar being seen. It simply raised too many questions. Questions she had no desire to answer. It was bad enough that the black submissive mark was still present and running down her throat, but an odd tattoo was much easier to shrug off (especially since it meant nothing to anyone here) in comparison to a healed wound she couldn't have possibly survived.
Courtly Chaos Team One
Eventually Tomoe was able to find a cream and gold dress that covered everything essential. The color could have been more subtle, but it worked under the circumstances. The color practically made her skin glow. She stood out, but she knew the effect would draw people to her, like the proverbial moth to the flame. It wasn't good where trying to go unnoticed was concerned, but the simple fact was that some men became loose-lipped around beautiful women--especially those who didn't speak much. They would fill the silence and often say too much trying to impress her or draw a reaction. In other cases her silence made her seem nonthreatening and conversations that she shouldn't have overheard took place around her.
It was probably too much to hope for, but she couldn't imagine what else they could possibly expect from her. She was not a fighter.
She moves about the party quietly, hands folded in front of her, seemingly lost in her own thoughts--but in reality she was listening for anything that that might be of use before focusing on it without expressing looking.
Kitchen Duty
This she could do. This she was familiar with. Thanks to her five months in Duplicity she was already familiar enough with electric and gas powered stoves and ovens, so applying that to what was on the train was simple enough. She was mostly just glad that she was allowed to access the kitchen and prepare her own food, even if she still couldn't get her own supplies. The months of eating the Down's mystery meat were over. Just being able to see the ingredients and identify them was a blessing.
So there is a tiny, young Asian woman moving about the kitchen car like she owns it, prepping ingredients and using several pots and pans to prepare... something (this mun doesn't cook so vague description is vague). It smells pretty good at least?
Tomoe Himura | Rurouni Kenshin | CRAU Duplicity
Tomoe has been around enough western clothing by now to not be off put by the styles presented. In a way she is relieved to see the floor length skirts in lieu of short skirts or form fitting pants, but she doesn't seem to be having as much luck where the top of the garment is concerned. Were it a simple matter of her being shy or conservative she could have overcome it--but that wasn't quite the case. She held her left hand to her opposite shoulder where, underneath her clothing, a massive scar divided her torso running down to her navel in front and to the base of her spine in the back. The dresses all seemed to be designed to either display too much in the front or back--or in many cases both. She had yet to attempt to try anything on, not wanting to waste her time or take the chance of the scar being seen. It simply raised too many questions. Questions she had no desire to answer. It was bad enough that the black submissive mark was still present and running down her throat, but an odd tattoo was much easier to shrug off (especially since it meant nothing to anyone here) in comparison to a healed wound she couldn't have possibly survived.
Courtly Chaos Team One
Eventually Tomoe was able to find a cream and gold dress that covered everything essential. The color could have been more subtle, but it worked under the circumstances. The color practically made her skin glow. She stood out, but she knew the effect would draw people to her, like the proverbial moth to the flame. It wasn't good where trying to go unnoticed was concerned, but the simple fact was that some men became loose-lipped around beautiful women--especially those who didn't speak much. They would fill the silence and often say too much trying to impress her or draw a reaction. In other cases her silence made her seem nonthreatening and conversations that she shouldn't have overheard took place around her.
It was probably too much to hope for, but she couldn't imagine what else they could possibly expect from her. She was not a fighter.
She moves about the party quietly, hands folded in front of her, seemingly lost in her own thoughts--but in reality she was listening for anything that that might be of use before focusing on it without expressing looking.
Kitchen Duty
This she could do. This she was familiar with. Thanks to her five months in Duplicity she was already familiar enough with electric and gas powered stoves and ovens, so applying that to what was on the train was simple enough. She was mostly just glad that she was allowed to access the kitchen and prepare her own food, even if she still couldn't get her own supplies. The months of eating the Down's mystery meat were over. Just being able to see the ingredients and identify them was a blessing.
So there is a tiny, young Asian woman moving about the kitchen car like she owns it, prepping ingredients and using several pots and pans to prepare... something (
this mun doesn't cook so vague description is vague). It smells pretty good at least?