hh_mirror | The Hat marries people, yo. (Open to those who signed up)

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The Hat marries people, yo. (Open to those who signed up)

One bright Hogwarts morning, fliers with small, numbered Hat-shaped plastic tokens are sent out to a select group of students via house elf. “Your presence is required at an Awards Ceremony in the Great Hall tonight,” the flier states. “Attendance is mandatory. Formal dress is required. Prizes will be given.”

And so, at the appointed time, the students are ushered into the Great Hall. It has been lavishly decorated for the occasion: streamers, flowers, a champagne fountain, the works. At the front of the hall sits the Sorting Hat, likewise decorated in a wreath of flowers and lots of bling. It sits imperiously and waits until everyone has taken a seat and the beautifully decorated doors have been closed and barred.

“My dear students,” it begins, “we are gathered here today for a wonderful ceremony. A ceremony of magic and beauty, and it is my privilege to be here with you. Now, before you can get your wonderful awards--” here one of the Hat's folds dips in what might have been a wink on something with a face--”are you all carrying your special prize tokens?” It waits for a little longer while the attending house elves (all carrying bouquets of multicolored flowers) check to ensure that yes, everyone in the room has one on their person. “Wonderful! By the power vested in me by the Board of Education, I now pronounce you married!”

Before the shock and outrage can set in, the Hat rushes into the next part of its speech. “No use getting upset, it's legal now! This place has become a haven for loose morals, and you're helping to fix that! Don't worry about your belongings, you won't have to spend a second sweating and becoming undesirable for your new spouses! While you've been here, the house elves have moved your sundries out to your new homes for you, isn't that nice of them? They've even been allowed to charm your new homes so that you can't remove your objects from them! Let's hear it for the house elves!” It doesn't pause for applause. “Now, I'll let you happy newlyweds get to the business of consummating your new relationships in the name of ~~duck waffles~~ procreation. Your tokens are numbered with your new addresses, and a map has been provided at the door. Don't try to run, the ushers have been provided with cattle prods and given the permission to use them.” The Hat waves a strap at one terrified-looking bouquet-holding elf near the front, who pulls a cattle prod out of the flowers and waves it around. “And now, onward! Onward to happy families! Onward to El Mundo Del Sombrero!”

The doors open. The armed house elves swarm, herding the students to a tent village on Hogwarts grounds. Resistance is futile.

Once arriving at the tent whose number matches the number on their token, each student will meet his or her new spouse(s) ...

((The tents in El Mundo Del Sombrero are wizarding tents that appear to be one-bedroom houses complete with bathrooms, kitchens, living rooms, etc. inside. Rearranging and addition of objects is allowed, removal of objects for the purposes of moving elsewhere or returning to the castle is not due to the charm on the tents. Players are allowed to NPC the house elves shocking their own characters if an escape attempt is made. Note that characters will not be barred from returning to the castle later to do other things, e.g., use the library; they just can't move back into the castle. Congratulations on your nuptials.

Feel free to RP in this post, or to post your own separate posts that take place within the dubious sanctuary of your brand-new tent!))

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Frelling married?! This is great. Just frelling great. Chiana had been looking foward to free food, free drinks and prizes. She'd even worn her fancy new dress. (http://z.about.com/d/golondon/1/0/8/D/-/-/MUSEUM_DRESS.jpg) And now she's married?! "Frell off," she screams at the nearest house elf. The second she's to the tent, she's rummaging around in the kitchen, looking for something remotely alcoholic. There's no way she's finishing her day sober.

...What now? Married? Oh no. Not Bombalurina. She had never taken a mate and was not planning on doing that yet for a long time, if ever. Being married was NOT in the plan.

Hissing at the House-elves and occasionally clawing at them (which didn't appear to disturb them nearly as much as Bomba would have wished), the furious redhead stomped off towards her assigned tent. Her dress (http://www.edressme.com/04372nn.html), which unusually enough actually did went past her knees in honour of this "award ceremony," trailed after her, the edges of it already stained with mud. Oh great... She just hoped her new husband would be hot. Hopefully good in bed too, because otherwise Bomba was definitely going to have words with the Sorting Hat. They would not be nice words. They would be threats. Bombalurina didn't take orders from anyone.

Stupid Hat.

As soon as Bomba entered tent number 13 she became aware of the sounds. Ah. Her husband, the apple of her eye...

She went inside, and saw... a woman. A... sort of... blueish... woman. In an extremely ugly dress, to boot.

"So," said Bomba irritably, crossing her arms over her rather impressive cleavage. "I know I'm in the right place. Please don't tell me you live here too."

Chiana pauses to glare at the new arrival. Great, a redhead. She'd never had much luck with redheads. "So, you're my wife?" she says sarcastically. "Great to meet you. Be a dear and help me find the liquor, would you? I know I had some hidden away in my room, and if those fekface elves didn't bring it I'm going to kill them all."

Liquor? Liquor sounded like a very good idea. Bomba had a very low alcohol tolerance (it probably came from the fact that she used to be a cat), but yeah, that sounded good to her right about now. She cursed herself for not having a stash of her own Firewhiskey, as a matter of fact... She'd had one of those before, because Dean... No. Fuck Dean. Bomba grimaced slightly, forcing the memory of him from her mind.

Okay. She was married to another woman. She was going to get more thoroughly wasted than ever before.

"It would appear so," muttered Bomba sourly, maneuvering her very clingy dress so that she could sit down and dig around for sweet, sweet alcohol in one of the lower kitchen cupboards. "Aren't we lucky."

Just how the hell was she going to manage this, now? Bomba had only gotten along well with one female in her life, and that was her sister. This was absolutely not a good thing.

"They'd better not have been messing with my clothes," she muttered, mostly to herself. All her gorgeous, short dresses, touched by dirty little House-elf hands... Bombalurina conveniently forgot the fact that it had been the House-elves that had brought her the dresses in the first place. She was practical like that.

"Ah, got something." Stuffed way in the back, like some house elf hopes that they won't find it, is a bottle of spiced rum. "Cheers," she says. She opens the bottle, takes a rather large drink, and holds it out to her brand-new spouse. "Tell me about it. I'm Chiana." She glares downwards. "And I don't know about you, but I need to get out of this frelling dress."

Bomba accepted the bottle with a grim expression on her face. Someone was going to pay for this. oh yes. "Bombalurina," she said, knocking back a large gulp of her own and made a face at the taste. Good stuff. The bottle was passed back to Chiana.

With great caution, careful not to rip her dress she stood up, grabbing on to the kitchen counter for support. She was already feeling a buzz, dammit. "Yeah. I need to find my other clothes. They're probably around here somewhere..."

Okay. Investigating the place. Finding something else to wear. Then possibly drink some more. Yep. Sounded like a plan.

Chiana pulls another extended gulp of the rum before hopping up to crouch on the counter, surveying the main room and trying to identify her stuff by sight. She'd collected quite an assortment of objects, clothes, and other random objects during her stay at Hogwarts. "Frelling dress," she muttered, trying to pull up on the top portion. "Should have sewn straps to it. You're lucky, you got the loomas to pull off yours," she complains, eyeing Bomba's chest. She hops down and grabs something more comfortable from the floor.

...Loomas? Automatically, Bomba's eyes dropped to regard her chest. That had been a compliment, hadn't it? Not really something she was used to getting from women... Still, a compliment was a compliment, and that combined with the drink was making her feel a tiny bit better about this whole situation. She was still going to tear the Sorting Hat to shreds, naturally, but it could wait.

"Thanks, hon."

It was the polite reply, she assumed. Bitching with this woman, which was the default mode for Bombalurina, was probably not the best course of action, here. Unfortunately she wasn't used to having a decent conversation with other females, so Bomba merely started looking around for another outfit herself. Everything seemed to be in order, but since she had an enormous wardrobe so it was pretty difficult to actually spot anything missing. Soon enough she found one of her favourite dresses (http://www.flirtcatalog.com/store/product.asp?dept%5Fid=2430&itemnumber=353107) thrown over a char, and exhaled with relief. Thank the Everlasting Cat...

Without paying any attention whatsoever to the other woman in the room, Bomba peeled off her old dress and stepped into the other. Mm. Much better... She was starting to feel like herself again. That long dress just hadn't been her. The redhead soon found a mirror, which she parked herself in front of, adding to her blood-red lipstick.

"So, how long do you reckon we'll have to live here?" she asked, smacking her lips at her own reflection. "They can't force us to stay married forever... I am pretty certain humans have a law against that sort of thing."

Chiana eyes Bomba dressing with interest. Okay, so this whole thing could have been a hell of a lot worse. She pulls off her own dress and puts on her white, fluffy bathrobe (http://www.exquisiteirony.com/chilooks/chirobe1.jpg) over herself. "Honestly? No idea. On either count. Most experience I have with human weddings is Stark--fahrbot Banik on Moya--marrying Crichton and Aeryn while I helped them birth their narl. Not the most romantic time, I'll tell you that."

Bomba turned slowly, eyebrows arched. There had been an awful lot of words there that didn't make even the slightest bit of sense.

"I have to agree," she deadpanned. "That doesn't sound very romantic. Still, your experience stretches further than mine. My humans were married, I suppose, but that wasn't particularly romantic either... They were mostly shouting at each other."

She turned back to the mirror and began applying her mascara. After a moment she asked, almost absentmindedly, "What is a narl?"

"Well, it's a--you know." She makes a vague hand gesture. "A baby." She frowns, trying to remember where she picked up that particular bit of slang, then snaps as she remembers. "Royal burial planet. (http://www.farscapeworld.com/episodes/synopsis/10204.php) That's what they called them there."

Thus satisfied, she plops down on the couch and curls her legs under herself before fixing Bomba with a curious look. "Your humans?"

Ah. Babies. Bombalurina made a little face. "Oh." She did pick up on the planet thing, but hey, she was conducting serious business here. She was putting on make-up! Everything in due time...

"My humans," she confirmed, a wry smile curving her lips. "I didn't always look like this. Up until a few months ago I was a house-pet." It was enough to make her smile widen slightly, because it was quite an amusing and surreal thought. "I used to be a cat."

And damn sexy one, too.

"Yeah," she says, in an "I know, I hate the frelling things" tone of voice. "A cat, really?" She takes another gulp of the rum. "You make a damn good looking human, for a cat."

Oh yeah, this was the right way of befriending Bombalurina. Perhaps this wife thing was not so bad. Granted, it could have been better, but it could also have been a lot worse. Bomba brightened a little, dark eyes glittering.

"Aren't you sweet," she cooed, in the tone of voice usually reserved for attractive males.

Her hair was brushed and then skillfully tousled again, into cascading red curls down her back.

"So where are you from, then?" asked Bomba, slightly more interested in her new spouse now than she had been a few minutes ago.

Chiana brightens up marginally at the tone of voice. Really, show her the slightest amount of interest and she's all yours. "Sweet? Yeah, I guess I can be when I want to be."

She lets one gray leg dangle off the couch. "Me, I'm from Nebari Prime. Little drenhole of a planet, you'd hate it. Been on the run from the Establishment most of my life. Even lived onboard a Leviathan with a bunch of other escaped prisoners for a few cycles, how drad is that? Came here for a little peace and quiet, but... getting kind of bored with all of that."

Ah. An alien. Bomba didn't really have a word for a person from another planet (cats didn't look up and wonder about life in other places, after all, being much too busy focusing on life on THIS planet to really bother), but she accepted it with calm. She supposed it made sense. Chiana didn't really look human. Which of course was completely acceptable by Bomba's standards.

"Peace and quiet was never really my scene," she mused, checking her reflection from all angles and maybe pulled down her dress a bit to reveal more cleavage. "Neither is marriage, come to think about it. We can still leave the house... I say we go out and find ourselves a party. All these disgruntled people around here, there's bound to be some of them drinking heavily." She turned from the mirror to smile impishly at Chiana, striking a pose. "Am I acceptable like this?"

It was just a question. Bombalurina knew very well that she was good-looking.

((reposted))

"Frelling marriage." Really, life would be so much better if the whole concept was erased, she's convinced. First that debacle with D'argo, then the second time with D'argo, and now this. But hey, at least Bombalurina is decent looking and apparently of similar point of view on some things.

"Party! Yeah. Great idea!" She makes a show of eying Bomba before grinning. "Very acceptable. Though I'm going to have to find something suitable, I suppose..." She fishes around until she finds something cute. (http://www.divacorsets.com/product.php?id=307) Rygel had once accused her of having nothing more to her than "a pushed up pair of loomas in a corset," and tonight she feels a bit like embodying that ~~because nothing says "forced marriage" like a slutty dress.~~ "This look acceptable to you?"

Even if it's not, she's going to wear it anyway. She really likes that dress.

Oh yes, that was much better than that horrible gown Chiana had worn before, she must say. Bomba nodded approvingly. And ohhh, corset... Remind her to get one of those herself.

"Very acceptable indeed, hon," she smiled. Bomba grabbed her handbag, which was filled with make-up and other beautifying necessities, and then slipped into her high-heels (http://www.sexyshoes.co.uk/fresh6-12.html). "Bring the, mm, drink thing," she added as she stood, again posing in front of the mirror.

Mm. Drink things were good.

Bombalurina peered out the tent flap, spotting the House-elves parading around with their cattle-prods, and she smiled at them as she contemplated hunting them all down like rats. When she received an odd look in reply from one of them, she just blew the elf a kiss and gave him a cheeky wave. No problems here, officer! Just getting ready to celebrate our wedding...

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The Hat marries people, yo. (Open to those who signed up)

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