Tuesday, August 9, 2011

What the Hel's taking so long?

But I know, of course. This isn't so much a disguise as a re-making, and nothing can be overlooked. Rowan's improvised dye has to cover everything or it's no go - and I realized pretty quickly how extensive "everything" is.

Star has been dunking herself like an Easter egg for something like two hours now, in a concoction that smells like something the cat brought in - and then brought up. The smell will probably fit right in in Underdark, though.

I really, really hate this plan - but being unable to suggest a better one, I had to give in, and now my wife and a mad scientist disguised as Rowan have taken over the bathroom. I'm surprised I haven't heard an insane cackle coming out of there yet....

Finally there's the sound of someone moving around in the tub, and then the gurgling sound as the evil-smelling dye is drained away. I wonder what it'll take to remove it...? And then Star steps into the living room, naked, and gray as charcoal. She looks up and I'm startled at her red glare, then remember that she's wearing contacts for this little masquerade.

Presumably Rowan is washing out the tub, or stripping it, or whatever it takes, so I look close... first, the damn dye went everywhere, and I do mean everywhere... it even changed the color of her nails. Only her hair remains unaffected.

"Your scalp," I say. "You couldn't change your hair color, so you couldn't submerge your head. Your scalp is going to be your usual color."

"We're going to dye the skin where my hair parts, and I'm wearing a robe with a hood. Anyway, it's dark in Underdark, and they won't be looking for people sneaking in... Nobody wants to get into Underdark, they want to get out."

"You know I don't like this."

"I know, but I can fit in better than most of the people we have, and Ghaunt will protect me." Her eyes meet mine. "You'd do the same if it were me in there. I can't just hang back and let someone else take the chance and maybe get killed. I couldn't live with that."

The Hel of it is, I know what she means. I can't give in gracefully, but I have to yield to her argument.

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"That you don't wash that stuff off right away when you get back. I've never been with a Drow...."

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