Dregan
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Post by Dregan on May 17, 2012 11:55:31 GMT -5
Frons Art Museum. Hardly the pin-point of activity, the building had been a part of the city as long as most could remember, though even those who had been present for the longest of times could barely find reason to visit. It was old, a staple of times past. An empty building of few visitors. ...Well, until recently that was. Something new had arrived - a special display. The paintings of Augusto Rovinsky, a local artist who worked in paintings of strange figures and abstractions. Reports of the display had certainly bought interest from multiple visiting parties. Though admittedly, it was not the artworks themselves which seemed to be attracting guests, but rather, the mystery surrounding them. It was well reported that Rovinsky, the artist, in his more recent years had suffered from delusions. A great insanity which took ahold of him, and had stopped his work altogether. It was thought until recently he would never paint again. A few weeks ago however, he had gone missing - and left behind three paintings unlike any he had created before. The display in question, was a display of these three artworks. And now, the public were coming to see...
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Crazienous
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Post by Crazienous on May 17, 2012 13:36:14 GMT -5
a young man stood before the paintings, clad in a school uniform, jacket open and white shirt half tucked into his pants like he'd just shoveled whatever he'd found in his wardrope on. his dark eyes swiveled from one corner of the paintings to the other, keen on their details. specs of gold shimered in the dark grey of his eyes now and then as he scanned the art closer and closer, was he amused? if he was, it was hard to see from his doll-like blank expression.
he'd forgotten when he last visited a museum, he supposed he'd taken a gander around his old man's practice long ago, when they didn't try to bite his head off, but he couldn't quite recall. this was special, he'd come to see what all the fuss was about, at first he'd thought it might've been one of the old man's works he'd over looked, but it'd been too long for this kind of attention all of a sudden. of course, that was nowhere near the case, but he'd still felt he'd take a closer look.
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Post by cyborgfox on May 17, 2012 23:28:59 GMT -5
Breathing heavily the teen bursted through the museum's doors; sirens blared through the streets outside. Quickly stepping away from the door he leaned against the wall glancing briefly down at his hands. The odd mixture of wolf and panther mobian walked into the nearest restroom, he didn't want such filth on his hands.
He wasn't the one who started the brawl, but he made sure he was the one to finish it. Unfortunately for him, the police spotted them and he needed to make a run for it. Scratching the back of his right ear, he glanced around at his surroundings as he emerged from the restroom.
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Dregan
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Post by Dregan on May 18, 2012 9:52:16 GMT -5
The three paintings were layed out in unusual fashion. They had been placed in a simple room, with four walls. Each painting had been placed on a seperate wall, with the entry door to the room being on the remaining wall. It meant that, as soon as entering the room, you would find yourself surrounded with them - one on each side, and one directly in front. It was obvious, on observation of the content, why they had been layed out in this way. It seemed Rovinsky - before his disappearance - had made the paintings specifically to be displayed in this place. Each painting appeared as if a reflection of the room they were being held in... though... different. The painting to the immediate right upon entry seemed to be an almost-exact replica of the room reflected within. The detail of the other paintings up on the wall had even been taken into account, with the paintings being painted onto the walls within the painting. The painting to the immediate left seemed a lot more... twisted. Whilst the basic shape of the room, as well as the hanging paintings were there, it was a lot different. It was as if he'd painted the room as some form of cave, built in red organic rock. It was both disgusting an intriguing, mixing the familiarity with the location with a seething unnatural air. The painting directly across seemed to be some form of cross between. As if, someone had taken the rocks of the leftward painting, and carved them in the shape of the rightward painting. The effect gave the idea of a reflection of the current room if made of entirely different material. However... in the central painting something was wrong. The door, the one which people would be entering by, was not reflected in the painting. Instead, there was a fourth painting, hung where the door should be. How strange.
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Crazienous
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Post by Crazienous on May 18, 2012 10:57:00 GMT -5
Liliatt nudged his head out of the trance, looking to where the sound was coming from. police cars? or was it an ambulance? he shook the thought before he'd taken a step to go out and look, curiosity being out weighed by his sence it was going to be a bad idea either way. it wasn't the first time he'd heard sirens, nor would it be the last, since the last few times he'd gone to look, he ended up in a tiny room with bars for walls, so he learned to avoid them, of course with the exception of when he was looking for a place out of the rain with a free ride to boot.
returning soon after to the paintings while rubbing the back of his head, though soon noticing the action and moving his hand back to his side, hanging again from the pocket of the open jacket, with a troubled expression forming on his face, all the while his eyes swiveled in a trance, looking from painting to painting with an even more keen eye for the details, like piecing together a puzzle in his head.
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Post by cyborgfox on May 18, 2012 18:26:31 GMT -5
Shifting his guitar, the hybrid made his way towards the exit. Something stopped him from continuing however, a door leading off into another room. The darkness within him stirred as he felt something calling for him. Clenching his teeth the loosely dressed half-breed reluctantly followed whatever was willing him.
As he opened the door his eyes caught three pictures along with an individual staring at them. Was he the one who he sensed? No, he dismissed his thoughts and flicked his panther tail. It did seem though that the room held a mysterious air around it. His eyes stared at one of the three paintings hanging in the room, the middle one. Unlike the other two on either side of him this felt different altogether, "Hey, what's with this painting?" he questioned.
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Dregan
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Post by Dregan on May 18, 2012 18:42:59 GMT -5
"It's one of Rovinsky's three last paintings," someone answered calmly. Stood off to one side in the room, observing the paintings was a pangolin figure. He was rather... slim, lacking much weight to his flesh. Despite this however, thick scales aligned his back, starting from his snout and spreading over his head and down to the end of his tail, giving him a much weightier appearance than he should rightfully have. "The artist went mad a while before making these - looked like he'd stopped painting. Then, one day he up and vanished, and these were apparently left behind," he gestured round. As he spoke, at no point did he turn to direct the speech, his eyesight being completely transfixed on the middle painting. It seemed to bother him.
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Crazienous
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Post by Crazienous on May 18, 2012 19:10:40 GMT -5
Liliatt took his eyes off the paintings again, looking around the room, speks of silver flashing along the rims of his eyes as he noticed the other two, having just torn himself away from thought again, his sight lingering on the pangolin as he spoke, soon looking to the middle painting with a sort of new found curiosity. what was it making these two so troubled? or had his sences grown tired of the weirdness and just couldn't sence it? whatever it was, the similarities in events that brought the paintings into existance felt to him what others would probably have called nostalgia. what an odd feeling...
(( DUUUUUUUUUUUN... DUUUUUUUUUUN... DUUUUUUUUUUN... ))
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Post by cyborgfox on May 19, 2012 11:37:25 GMT -5
While listening to the newcomer's words he closed his eyes in thought. He posed no threat, though the painting watching set him off-guard. Opening his brown eyes he looked at the pangolin then glanced back to the painting, "Insanity you say, hmm," stated the half breed as his feline tail twitched slightly anxious.
"Who might you two be?" he questioned after a few seconds of thinking. He'd rather have information on these two than being left in the dark. Not that he minded the dark, it was literally a part of him. His guitar was sliding again prompting the half wolf, half panther mix to shift it back into place.
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Dregan
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Post by Dregan on May 19, 2012 19:05:35 GMT -5
"Huh?" he finally turned around to this question. He'd answered the individuals questions as more of a courtesy than anything, and now had been caught quite off-guard by the social deepening of the interaction. Still, that wasn't a bad thing - it might be quite nice to get to know new people. "Oh, I'm Kal," he commented, "I'm an arts student... thus my interest in... well, this!" he gestured around enthusiastically. A real passion for the arts exhuded from him.
After a few seconds he seemed to realise that outstretching has arms had vastly increased his proximity to people around, and quickly withdrew them back to himself. Realising from there how rude that may have seemed, he desperately clutched at straws, trying to distract from his own awkwardness. "And... er... who are you then?"
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Crazienous
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Post by Crazienous on May 19, 2012 19:34:04 GMT -5
Liliatt froze for a second, tilting his head before straightening his head up again and answering with a few complicated hand gestures before turning a... well... you could say it was a smile, a creepy one even if it ment well, plastered on his face almost like a mask. his lack of experience with people was evident, it was also obvious he'd thought everyone knew how to read sign language, his doll like presence didn't help either.
(( durrr, shorty shortness~ ))
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Post by cyborgfox on May 19, 2012 20:10:23 GMT -5
An irritated look passed Norio's face as he watched the hand gestures. This man couldn't talk, which meant communication would be very difficult. Unless this Kal person understood such language of the hands, "My name is Norio Blustien, but I'm not as...expressive as you are when it comes to artwork. The only reason I even came here is because these three pieces called me," even he didn't understand why normal boring paintings didn't effected him as much. A mystery surrounded them however, something he normally didn't have the patience for.
"Also, could you explain to me what he's trying to tell us?" added the mixed breed as he pointed at Liliatt, frustrated with all the movement coming from him. Perhaps he got it from his parents, this impatience, but he guessed he'd be able to tolerate such for a good measure of time.
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Dregan
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Post by Dregan on May 19, 2012 20:16:25 GMT -5
"I'm... afraid not..." Kal responded, giving a look to the flailing individual, "I'm sorry sir, it appears neither of us can read sign language..." He paused a while, considering. An idea struck him a few seconds later. Swinging his bag from his shoulders, he took out a pad and pen, holding them out to the unusual individual. He gestured for him to take them. "Perhaps you could write to use what you want to say...?" he paused a second, ensuring that the pad page was empty, "That might make it easier on us."
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Crazienous
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Post by Crazienous on May 19, 2012 20:26:30 GMT -5
he blinked, looking at the pad and pen though soon taking them with a bit of confusion. he soon understood what was required of him and then with a troubled expression proceeded to write on the first empty page grudely, like a right handed person just having had the idea to try to use their left hand instead, though holding the pen like a kid. soon turning the pad towards the two to see, showing the word 'Liliatt' in capital that was taking the full page's space.
(( *runs for it* ))
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Post by cyborgfox on May 19, 2012 20:34:58 GMT -5
Listening to him write his tolerance was wearing thin, "Why can't you just talk? Just say something instead of just standing there with your arms waving about in a rediculous manner," he blurted out (I had to use choice words...) before turning away from Liliatt in annoyance. Instead, he glared furiously at the painting which prodded at his dark energy. What did it even want? Taking a breath he needed to calm down and get control over himself.
After a minute he regained his composure and turned around to face the two men once again, "Alright then, so you're Kal and you're Liliatt, now what's suppose to happen?" impatience hiding in his voice. Was he only here to waste his precious time dealing with what he figured were imbeciles?
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