They are just pissing on us without giving us the courtesy of calling it rain. (Narrative/Openish)

[samplethesoul.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Grace Augustine. Narrative form, but open if anyone's brave or stupid enough to interrupt her
Content: Grace is pissed about the new dress code.
Setting: ...idk a random shop somewhere
Time: Midday
Warnings: Grace's mouth gets a big fat warning


Grace did not find out about the new dress code in the best way. No, she was actually dressed normally, in her favored green shirt with the camisole under it, her khaki slacks, and sandals. The only skin showing was on her hands, feet, and a little of her chest. God forbid. And yet, the second she tried to walk into a store to buy clothes of all the ironic things, she was shown the exit and vehemently denied entrance because she had "low morals."

Needless to say, this did not sit very well with her.

"Excuse me? Low morals? How the hell does clothing style have anything to do with morality?" she sputtered.

They still wouldn't let her in. Huffing out a breath of frustration, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep taste of the smoke before returning her temper to its rightful place.

"Okay, look. We're not living in the 17- or 18-hundreds in Europe or some other crap," she informed the shopkeeper with more than a little trace of annoyance. "Hell, we're not even in the 1920's! This may not be Earth, and we may be somewhere we don't want to be, but we all have our own dress codes back home and this is bullshit."

"But this is what we have to do-" He added in other crap that she only reacted to by waving the hand holding her cigarette at him.

"I don't care what bullshit you supposedly have to do, you can't force anyone to starve if they don't conform to your shitty standards."

She added in a few other choice words and phrases before taking another breath of the cigarette. He was really trying her nerves now and if they all were going to be insistent on this sort of thing, it was going to be a long, long stay.

"I. Don't. Care. Some of us aren't interested in what we look like or what people think we should be doing. We prefer doing our work to dealing with bullshit beliefs like this."

By that point, her voice had risen considerably, though she didn't care how many people heard or were watching. Grace cared little for stupid people. Especially stupid people who were rudely denying basic needs to other sentient beings, people or otherwise. It was bullshit, plain and simple, and Dr. Grace Augustine did not tolerate bullshit.

Comments

[sceadu-gemynd.livejournal.com]

For all that he had what essentially amounted to standing orders to leave the current mayor as he was, Zexion had to admit he had disagree with his last decision just on general principle. The change was hardly that would be taken well, even by the usual standards of nonsense that went on in the city. It wold divide the city in two, draw up the battle lines and generally breed ill-will. He could only hope that it wouldn't lead to battles in the street.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise, then, that he stopped to listen when he heard Grace expressing very much the same things that he'd been thinking, if in somewhat cruder language. The mayor was a fool, duly elected though he'd been, and while the poor hapless citizens would be the one to bear the brunt of it, he found that really, he couldn't much care. Let them take it. Perhaps then they'd think again about their precious 'traditions.' Even better, it was something that this particular persona (brown-haired and bookish, with clothes one might expect of a college student) would agree with. He needn't worry about speaking up here.

"I quite agree."