(You know, you all are welcome to play, too!)
Day 2 -- Prompt # 18 -- "Mirror"
He’d gotten out of the habit of looking at mirrors, mostly because he was more than a little afraid of what he’d see looking back at him – evil red eyes instead of his own wary, prosaic brown; wild, spiky hair that stood up in to resemble bat-wings or (to his thinking, more like) devil’s horns instead of the softer, slightly untidy ‘candy-floss’ style he was more comfortable with; and elongated canines, almost vampiric in appearance…
Tonight, though, he HAD to spend more than a few begrudged moments, more than a hasty glance on the run to make sure his face was clear of smudges and the remnants of his most recent meal. He had to actually study those facial features that too often in the past had morphed into those of his own personal demon, in order to perform the voluntary transformation (courtesy of the theatrical make-up kit borrowed from a classmate in Drama Club) necessitated by his choice of masquerade costume. Why had he let Mokuba wheedle him into attending the Kaiba Corp.-sponsored Masquerade Ball? And why, in heaven’s name had he chosen THIS particular fantasy character to emulate, whose personality and attitude were so similar to those of the Ring Spirit, his detested ‘Other Self’?
Ryou Bakura sighed (he was doing that a LOT lately). Too late to back out now; the younger Kaiba brother was expecting him to make an appearance. But it wasn’t too late to change his costume to something more benign, less sinister – safer, in other words. Some of the other members of the Kendo Club were planning to dress as historical or fantasy samurai; it wouldn’t be that hard to throw together a generic Shinsengumi outfit even at this, the eleventh hour. Still…
Ryou reached up and stroked the feathered collar and trim on the cloak hanging from the closet door. It would be a shame not to wear it, after all the hours spent designing and carefully hand-sewing the garment’s details, – not to mention his poor, sore, needle-pricked fingers! – assembling and fashioning the accompanying accessories. He had good reason to be proud of his craft skills and shouldn’t be so hesitant to publically display his handiwork; and if his academic career ended up taking a crapper, at least he might be able to find employment as a cosplay designer.
THAT would be a fine kettle of fish to slap in Obaa-sama’s face….either of them would be mortified at having such an outrageous individual in the immediate family. Ryou muffled a scandalized giggle at his own audacity at even contemplating such frivolous vocation (not that anthropology/archaeology was all that acceptable, either, but at least there was the potential for SOME prestige and social recognition in those fields), and forced his attention back to the matter at hand. He COULD do this. Yes, there were many outward and personality similarities between the Spirit of the Sennen Ring and the Lord of the Labyrinth, but they were NOT the same. He was NOT going to let fear run his life anymore. He, Ryou Bakura, was NOT an evil spirit from the shadowed Egyptian past, and recreating the character of a Goblin King for a masquerade party was NOT an open invitation to possession and the standard ensuing insanity and mayhem.
He gave a decisive nod to the image reflected in the dresser mirror and picked up the black eye-liner pencil. Besides, the Ring was still Sealed in it's lead lined bag, with a few extra protective charms courtesy of his Aikido master (who moonlighted on occasion as an onmyoji). Admittedly, he'd had some intensely peculiar dreams over the past few weeks which he hoped were more the result of the persistent spiritual/mental/emotional bond he reluctantly shared with the Dark Spirit rather than indicative of a weakening of the Seal which thus far had kept the Spirit locked inside his Sennen Item and not rampaging through the streets of Domino City in Ryou's hi-jacked body. Ryou shuddered. He held no doubts that eventually Yami no Yuugi would catch up and vanquish the murderous kleptomaniac, but the thought of what horrible deeds the Ring Spirit might inflict upon the unsuspecting inhabitants of the city --- well, Ryou didn't care to contemplate.
The pale youth forced his hand to stop trembling. The make-up was tricky enough to apply without accidentally poking his eye out! And he had no intention of adding an eye patch to his ensemble. Fortifying his determination with the mental image of a certain CEO sneering at the perceived ineptness of 'Yuugi's pet cheerleaders' Ryou thrust all thoughts of pirates and Egyptian tomb robbers from his mind, and proceeded.