multiversallogs | [OPEN] i hate to tell you but it's all an illusion

Who: Penelope Lane, a very traumatized-looking Wolfgang Einhorn, and YOU! YES, YOU!!! GET OVER HERE
What: The open casting call for Penelope's fashion line! Also known as "Models A-Go-Go" or "The Trolliest Place On Earth".
Where: The Valhalla Inn. Specifically, the Ballroom. (Yes, it has one. It's a hotel, isn't it?)
When: Coardi, Ceidary 16th. Also known as "Today". Doors open at noon!
Notes: I'll post two thread starters, one for mingling amongst one another in the waiting area, where you should feel free to post WILDLY about how ridiculous this all is, get into fights, etc, and another for your own personal threads with Penelope, where she will decide if you are ~what she wants~. If you want to post elsewhere (outside the Valhalla being attacked by jellyfish, having a smoke break out back, snorting coke in the bathrooms, whatever) feel free!! Just make a note where it is in the subject. Y'all know the drill!
Warnings: Cursing, trollery, diva behavior. Possibly giant sky-jellyfish harassing the building. The usual.

Signs posted in the lobby and hallways of the Valhalla direct interested parties back past the dining hall to a large, seldom-used room, helpfully labeled "Ballroom" in several different languages, many not remotely native to Earth. Inside, the carpeted room is otherwise similar to general design scheme of the Valhalla, except slightly dustier. Several rows of folding chairs have been set up in a sort of airport-style waiting area to the side, and far to the end of the room sits a long table.

Seated smack in the center of that table is Penelope Lane, The Grand Bitch Herself, smoking a cigarette and looking for all the world like she's enormously dissatisfied with just about everything she can possibly think of. On the table in front of her is a notebook and pen, an ashtray, and a polaroid camera. Somewhere, a radio is playing through slightly crackly speakers.

At the entrance, a small table has been set up with a stack of carefully typed applications and a handwritten sign, instructing that applicants should take one and sit in the waiting area to fill out the paperwork until the number at the top of their form is called.

It's all very professional, or it would be, if there weren't the threat of giant killer sky-jellyfish floating around outside eating people. This has, understandably, put something of a damper on the occasion. But as they say, the show must go on. Because Penelope says so. Damnit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

GG's number is called; GG sighs, gives Lea a Look and strides over. She doesn't walk like a model- she has a predatorial sort of gait, prowling more than anything- and nor, really, does she look like someone who does this kind of thing often. She's vaguely uncomfortable in the Inn and distinctly adrift in the situation- but she's clearly made the conscious decision to act like nothing can bother her.

"Hey," she says, putting down both her application and her sunglasses on the table. The application: no experience modelling, currently working as a bouncer at the Vault, skills including three languages and an ability to badly injure people (...reading between the lines of 'police training' and 'experience in crisis situations', she did not actually write that), and if there is a section for species, 'werewolf' written in careful handwriting. "I'm GG."

No smile, just a stare, because this is how you treat difficult situations; you stare them down. (Interview skills, werewolf style).

She's tall, at least, and pretty in a very blonde way which rather contrasts with...everything else, such as the expression of intense and watchful challenge and the tattoos- her tank top leaves a sliver of stomach visible, along with a few inked black stars at the top of her hipbone, and there's the M and cross of a miraculous medal on her shoulder.

If there's one thing Penelope appreciates in a model, it's a look in the eyes that says they're currently thinking about murdering everyone in the room. That and some edge, and height, and a killer walk, and the ability to show up on time and not whine about anything, but mostly the murder thing.

"Hey," she says, not so much intimidated as impressed, and takes the application, looking it over. Good, she's tough. Maybe in photos she'd be less likely to deliver than some others, but on the runway? Penelope doubts GG would be intimidated overmuch by stomping a catwalk. This bodes well.

"So. Wanna show me a walk real quick?" She points to a 12-inch line of masking tape stuck to the carpet a runway's length from the table, indicating a starting point. Not even going to bother telling her how to do it. Penelope thinks she'll get the idea.

But you just saw me walk from the chair to here-- is what GG would rather like to say, but she holds her tongue. Arty people. You can't argue with them, they don't respond to logic.

Anyway, she's still not sure whether she's impressed or irritated by Penelope, and she'd rather work that one out before she starts arguing with her.

It's just a walk, after all. She gives a vague handgesture that means if you insist and gets to the starting point, where she considers strutting but crisse, she's not a dancing bear. Best, then, to walk as she usually does, though she does slow herself down slightly and take her hands from her pockets, keeping her eyes fixed on Penelope with that same...murder stare. Yes.

This is incredibly weird, she thinks, which nearly puts her off, but she sticks to her just don't show weakness strategy as she arrives at the table once more.

...Well, she's got a signature style, Penelope will give her that. The staring is a little unnerving, admittedly, but in a huge room full of several hundred people and reporters and flashbulbs going off, it will probably be a benefit. She can work with this.

"Okay. Cool. How do you feel about dying your hair?" Not that there's anything wrong with GG's coloring as it is, she's just seen a fuckload of white blonde women today, and she'd like to cut down on the number of wigs she has to use. A pause. "...Or shaving your head?"

GG runs a hand through her hair as she speaks, her other hand on her hip. "I'm not shaving my head. Quite likely it wouldn't work anyway." See also: body hair. GG shaved her underarms last night for the first time in God knows how long and there's already dark stubble visible. "But I could dye it. Uh- preferably natural colours."

She doesn't have anything against unnaturally coloured hair- it's just that if it transfers over to her wolf shape, then not only will prey likely see a bright pink or blue wolf coming a mile off, GG suspects they'd crack up laughing.

You know, figuratively, because she (very firmly) doesn't hunt anything which can actually laugh.

Well, that's slightly disappointing, but it can be worked with. A lot can be done with extensions, these days, anyway. She's going to have to do some serious design on this one.

"That's fine, we'll make it work. I can always slap a wig on you if worse comes to worst." She won't, but mentioning a wig tends to mollify the more easily panicked or oversensitive-about-image types. "How much skin do you feel comfortable showing?"

"All of it," GG says with a frank shrug. Nudity, at this point, is far from concerning to her. "Might as well avoid surprises, though: if you're looking for perfect skin you're out of luck, I have some scars-" She gestures vaguely to her left shoulder; the scarring in question is mostly hidden by the tank top, though Penelope might have caught glimpses.

She raises her eyebrows and adds; "I can always act like it's a fashion statement."

That is almost definitely a joke.

Penelope doesn't appear to have realized that.

"Who says it's not a fashion statement?" she deadpans. Let's be real; everything is a fashion statement. Whether or not it's a statement that should be made with whichever line or brand identity is entirely within the purview of the individual designer; Penelope likes it. It just means that people who wear her clothes are people who have lived.

Gathering up her Polaroid camera, she stands, and waves GG off to a nearby blank section of wall. "Alright, if you could just stand there for a second, I'll take a quick snap or two for my records, and then we're done. I'll call you for your fitting in a couple of weeks."

Translation: You're hired.

GG actually gives her a slightly sharp what even look at the suggestion that she's hired already but quickly gets rid of that when she remembers that's actually a good thing.

"--fantastic. Thanks. Oh, and, uh- good luck with the rest of it." Which is probably not what you're meant to say in situations like this, but look at the crowd; Penelope has A Day ahead of her. GG's being polite. ...Trying.

And she heads off to that wall, hands in her pockets, not quite sure what just happened but very slightly pleased. Alright, more than very slightly.

Look, after everything, being a model sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?

[OPEN] i hate to tell you but it's all an illusion

interview | GG

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