savetheearth | the "p" doesn't stand for pretentious, FYI. [art gallery, may 6th

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the "p" doesn't stand for pretentious, FYI. [art gallery, may 6th—??? ]

[ Welcome to Locke's very own Taste de Louvre, everyone! Predictably, the unveiling of the new set of statues at the magnificent Hugh P. Thadson Gallery of Fine Art has turned out to be a rather fanciful affair. The upper echelon of snobby society, in their snobby society attire, has come to mingle amongst one another—and is endeavoring to ignore you, fair citizen, as much as possible—and discuss this fantastic addition to our city's fair culture.

The first statue is a touchingly metaphorical piece, the prominent carving of a snake coiled around a human heart that looks so real you can almost hear it beating within your ears. This statue appears to be the most popular; the crowds drawn around its base simply can't stop going on and on and on about how wondrous it is, along with the rest of the works on display tonight.

The second statue also depicts a snake, but has its blush-brushed scales cut dramatically open to display its own wicked black heart. The Thunder Corporation and its latest line of tacky memorabilia is the primary subject of discourse here.

The last statue is strikingly different from the other two, and features a wolf howling at the open sky,* dying in apparent agony with a sword driven through its chest. You get a distinctly unsettling impression from it that the other, ordinary folk don't seem to notice—that perhaps your adventure to meddle in recent affairs is ill-advised. Inscribed below the pained wolf's paw is a link of sorts to a peculiar forum that, when accessed, bears only the topic "Let's Negotiate" with the same message enclosed within. Strange, but since no one else is talking about it, you wonder if you can't have just imagined the whole ordeal... and yet stranger things have happened, right? Perhaps it's worth looking into, in any event.

There's plenty to do with the statues about and the gift shop buzzing, with lots of familiar faces to run into. So what's your agenda for the evening? ]

(( General mingling post for the plot as related to art gallery affairs! There will be base threads for OPEN INTERACTIONS, open to all as implied, CLOSED INTERACTIONS, for planned out one-on-one interactions between player characters, and a general purpose EVERYTHING ELSE, for characters who wish to explore the gift shop, just mull about. Just as a general reminder:

1) Touching one of the snake statues will grant you one (1) Echo, for two (2) Echoes max. However, touching a second statue will definitely arouse suspicion, so be prepared for that. One safe Echo, two potentially risky ones up for grabs here! No Echoes from touching the wolf statue, though, so slither your way towards the snakey-snakeys for those.

2) If you'd rather not touch the statues themselves, hanging around them for awhile -- about an hour or so -- will grant one (1) Echo.

3) Accessing the webforum will not grant an Echo, but posting a reply to it will. It will be possible to get a second during conversation, but as for how it happens... it's a secret to everybody!

4) Little statuettes are available for purchase in the gift shop, but do not grant an Echo themselves in any way.

You may also handwave the mingling NPCs being snobby snobs at you, just for fun. Because why not.

~~As before, please wait for all base threads to go up before posting.~~ OPEN FOR BUSINESS! In your character's subthreads, please put your character's name, the day, and optionally the time you are visiting in the title so things remain nice and neat. Remember, open to all interactions in the open section and one-on-one time in the closed section. Everything else goes in Everything Else. This post will remain stickied throughout the entirety of the plot duration, for easy finding.

The plot post for this week, detailing about the art gallery and more, can be found here.

*This awesome picture drawn by our very lovely Lucas-mun! Thanks, MC! ]

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No— [ the utterance hangs for a moment, whatever question and elaboration he'd about to follow it up with entirely left in silence. whilst he's distracted by her unsteadiness, her own distraction and apparent confusion. though worry or even concern would both words too strong to be used — he's hardly formed attachment enough to her for the emotion to run that deep — that's not to say he's lacking entirely in empathy. he's read and heard enough as to the effects of the statues to guess at why, even if he's yet to experience it for himself (again, at least, and within immediate memory.)

he leans forward a touch, then, bringing himself closer to her level and extending a hand towards her. (for politeness, ostensibly, and in case she falls or faints — whether or not she accepts it is entirely up to her, and not an abject concern beyond that.) "...I think I need to sit down." there are no seats near the statues themselves (probably for the best, he thinks), and as such, he turns towards the door to the exhibition. there were some seats just outside — somewhere to sit between exhibits, no doubt, and a small café on the first floor (next to an utterly terrible and entirely overpriced shop, of course.) it would have bottles of water, though— ] This way. [ a beat. ] If you wait on the bench, I'll get you some water.

[She takes the offered hand - to steady herself, the last thing she needs is to draw attention to them by falling - and follows him quietly, whatever hint of fire that had shown itself now safely back under wraps.

a soft:] Thank you. [she's too distracted to say much else, but aware enough to be hopeful that the brief separation will be enough time for her to pull herself together. Names are materializing, attaching themselves to the creatures; the way everything was coming together leaves her in awe. Even now though, as far away as her mind is, there remains a certain amount of grace in the way she moves to sit and straightness to her posture.]

[ when he returns and hands her the water (mineral, not carbonated), he sits next to her on the bench. he doesn't speak for several moments, instead glancing over her — she looks a touch better, albeit noticeably quieter and more withdrawn than she had been earlier. he's tempted, momentarily, to ask her about it, but it's not any of his concern as to what she 'remembered' (it's a term he dislikes, along with the idea that they're receiving memories — it's not something he's willing to accept that those are what they are without proof). that said, whilst some people on the network have been inclined to share what they've seen (whatever it may be), he's equally disinclined to believe doing as much is entirely wise.

so he settles for another question: ] Are you feeling any better?

[She takes the water with a grateful (if absentminded) smile, before unscrewing the lid to take a sip. It actually does help in bringing her back to reality and Haruka drinks a little more, lowering the bottle to rest against her chest once she's had enough. Her eyes are focused again when she turns towards him to respond:]

Yes, I am. Thank you. [There's a pause, and Haruka lowers her head to look at the bench in both apology and guilt. Seriously, what if she'd drawn attention to them?] I'm sorry. Don't brush it off! [because plenty would and she's serious okay?! There's another pause, before she continues:] But... again, thank you. I appreciate it.

[She plans on telling him what she saw because really, it's the least she can do - but there's something else she wants to say first. Her gaze rises slightly, smile and tone turning playful:]

...Are you sure you're not a kind person?

[Because you said that to her on the network, but you're not exactly giving her reason to agree here :V]

[ his only response is to laugh at that — both at the demand that he not brush it off and her question, playful though it might be. there, he thinks, for the first time in their meeting so far, is evidence of the teenager she so apparently it is, and it's not entirely unwelcome. stretching his legs out in front of himself and crossing one ankle over the other, he glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. after a moment, he shakes his head — though it's not evident if it's meant as a denial or if it's merely out of humour and entertainment. ] I wasn't going to. [ after a pause and with a comparative lack of humour, he adds: ] But you're welcome, though— [ a glance. ] —I imagine most people would do the same.

[ the difference is in the reason, in the why. kindness would be to act out of a selfless want and need to see someone better themselves, whether that be in health, or in work, or in —anything. kindness, he thinks, is not to act for the sake of appearances, or because it makes a situation easier for oneself. kindness, then, isn't selfish. he doesn't bother saying as much, for it's not a discussion he wants to have: whether or not she'd agree with him, it'd edge the conversation, he imagines, towards a seriousness he's uninterested in broaching, towards perception of oneself and why, and that's hardly appealing.

instead, he leans towards her for a moment, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ] Appearances. [ a pause, deliberate and fleeting. ] Maybe I like the idea of being thought intimidating.

[She hums lightly, pleased, her smile continuing to warm. Despite the laugh, she can tell when she's being taken seriously and she enjoys it. It's made 100 times better for the fact that it has nothing to do with her father, has nothing to do with what she is or who she belongs to.

Haruka leans forward in response, tilting her head so that while she meets his gaze, there's something sly about the way she does it.]

Then you shouldn't buy strange girls bottles of water. I can see how it could be useful to maintain such an appearance... but it wouldn't stick around if people saw you do that.

[Because in her experience, most really would not extend such a courtesy.]

Even when it looks as if they're about to faint, and inaction would attract more attention than action? [ there's a deliberate levelness to his tone that contrasts with the slight curve of his lips. the question itself (it's as much one as it isn't, and there's no real expectation of an answer) is punctuated by a minute pause and a slight, fleeting lift of his shoulders (a shrug, for all that it matters.) ] But fortunately, I don't know many strange girls. [ if haruka was older, he'd have been more inclined to emphasise 'girls', for the statement was, in and of itself, entirely true (from a subjectively numerical standpoint, at least): he doesn't know many girls, full stop. strange hardly factors into it.

his expression quickly shifts into feigned consideration, though, gaze flickering up to the ceiling. ] If necessary, I've no doubt I could make efforts to have it work in my favour.

I wasn't talking about helping them out of there - that, I understand perfectly. But when you were perfectly aware that their condition hadn't been brought on by anything that water could assist with... [Wait, what was she saying? It seemed like it was edging suspiciously close to her trying to tell him what his intent was, and that was... a big mistake on several levels. Like observing things objectively, for one. She straightens up at the realization, smile falling away. It probably wasn't kind at all and she was just being stupid and even worse, needy.]

But I'm assuming a little too much of the intent behind your actions, aren't I? I'll try not to do it again.

[There's a brief silence, but then she's trying to soothe over her abrupt change (it's not him, it's all her); expression serious, making sure she's looking directly into his eyes (please understand):]

I have no doubt you could either.

[It's why she has to remain careful.]

[ he lets out a breath at that — it's not quite extended enough to be a chuckle, but nor is it a sigh. he doesn't look at her as he does so, and neither does he look at her when he replies. his tone isn't dismissive or unfriendly, but it is pointedly and deliberately matter-of-fact, as if he can't imagine disagreement on the matter. ] Water rarely doesn't help. [ whilst he wouldn't classify himself as overly interested in health, he's long harboured an interest in ensuring he's physically capable and as healthy as he can manage, but if nothing else, cold water is refreshing and tends to aid, he finds, with focus (in a sense — not in the same manner that coffee might, but.) he looks at her as she straightens, though, the sudden movement catching his attention. his own expression — between neutral and curious — doesn't alter even as hers does, but he does cant his head a touch in both acknowledgement and concession.

(he can't say he minds one way or the other what reason she attributes to his actions; as long as it's something that's not going to be problematic for him at any point, she's entirely welcome to believe what she likes. that, he thinks, is the beauty of appearances, of acting, of doing rather than instructing; if one does it right, they're granted a freedom and a manoeuvrability that they likely wouldn't find elsewhere and in other situations.) ] I imagine you will. [ a beat and a twitch of his lips; it's not admonishing in the slightest. ] Without an obvious reason, everyone prescribes their own imagined one to actions, don't they? And, of course, you're quite welcome to think what you wish; just because I say something's true, that doesn't mean it is. [ something she knows, he has little doubt. ]

True...

[It comes out a little hollow. All the more evidence that she'd been overthinking things. Her cadence doesn't grow any more spirited when she continues, looking away as she does so:]

Yes. All the better to remain objective.

[Her voice isn't even cold, it's just... so obviously lacking something. Like the empty parts of her heart were almost audible, somehow.

Not that Haruka could tell - to her own ears, she sounded perfectly normal. It was her previous light(er)-heartedness that had been unusual.

It was fine when she let people think what they wanted to, of course. She'd never cared enough about others to toy with their feelings, just their impressions of her. Just enough to swim smoothly by.

But it was all so dangerous, deserving of wariness, in the hands of others. Seeing, and worse, seeking warmth where there had never been any to be have was the fastest way to being used and discarded.]

[ words, he'd always thought, were fascinating. regardless of whether someone was skilled with using them, the fact that they did use them, whatever was chosen (and not chosen) said far more than anything else. when someone clearly had at their fingertips a vast array of words they could use, he enjoyed putting together meaning, both of what they were saying and what they weren't saying, and everything that was implied in-between.

but, he knows — because of that, because of his fascination — how easy it is to manipulate words and have both the said and the unsaid say exactly what one wished. it's mannerisms, then, expressions and actions that are the better gauge of truth and lie, and so he watches her when she speaks, when she looks away.

at length, then: ]

Open-minded. [ it's a mild utterance, not meant entirely as a correction, but more as an alternative, a suggestion; whilst he'd said in their first conversation that her situation must have afforded her with a certain objectivity, objectivity in and of itself is difficult, and more clinical than open-minded might imply. clinical has its place, of course, but it's not what he'd lean towards, given the choice — people are rarely clinical, after all, and their choices even less so.

after a moment, though, he adds: ] But if you don't mind: what's your objective at present?

Open-minded implies a lack of suspicion, though.

[Haruka does recognize that she's more paranoid than most. Considering his question, she looks up, as if consulting the ceiling.]

In the long-term? [With a striking nonchalance that she isn't interested in hiding:] Dismantle them to the point where they can't interfere with my life again. [and if that ultimately means having some people taken out? Sure, whatever. They shouldn't have acted like they'd kill her first, if they could. The choice is an easy one.] So in the short-term, gathering all of the information I can, so that I may know which angles to pursue and gather more information in.

[She tilts her head so that she's looking at Luke once more.] What's yours? [She remembers (of course) what he'd said during their first conversation, but maybe he'd divulge more details, things previously left unsaid.]

Implies. [ a nod of concession; he doesn't bother adding that the degree of suspicion — or whether it exists at all — is dependent not on how open-minded one is, but on the individual itself. when she continues though, answering his question, he listens in silence. "dismantle them." he can't and doesn't disagree with the sentiment expressed, and he can't — even in spite of her apparent age — bring himself to be surprised by her expressing it. as for himself, though—

he hasn't heard anything further from 'jude', nor has he been in touch with richard, so for the moment, his interest lies in who's trustworthy (or as trustworthy as one can be, given everything) and in who would be appropriate to work with and alongside. working alone was all well and good, but it would be slower and there would be a higher chance of overlooking something — or simply missing something. ] More or less the same. [ the network, he thinks, might provide a limited pool of people with whom to walk, but that doesn't mean one can't afford to not be choosy.

after answering — it's essentially a non-answer, he's aware — he stands up and turns to face her. ] How are you feeling?

Thanks to your help? Much better. [Her flattery is accompanied by a nod and a smile. But that still leaves the question: should she reveal what she saw? It... really doesn't seem like it could be particularly sensitive information, but...

sigh:]

I saw seven monsters and I knew what they were called.

[One had to give in order to receive, anyhow.]

We should go back inside. I can be right there, if you need me! [Her smile brightens, and if it wasn't for the context one would swear it was legit. Although...] I hope I'm privileged enough to learn what yours is. [Assuming it wasn't something godawful, like vomiting up half his stomach. In which case, they couldn't exactly avoid her finding out.]

[ his eyebrows knit together at her statement — a fleeting frown, edging towards the perplexed, though it gives way to a wry quirk of his lips. how dramatic and— ] Almost biblical. [ he's not religious but for the odd form completed by his parents as a child claiming to be "C of E" — not out of any particular allegiance, but simply because it was the done thing, particularly when one's local school was voluntary controlled; his education, then, resulted in a familiarity with anglicanism in which he can claim no true interest. monsters, though—

whilst he can't claim to know haruka on any level beyond the purely superficial, he's still a touch surprised by her use of words; he can't imagine, given the way she's presented herself both to him and to the network at large, that she'd be prone to describing something as a monster unless she saw no other option. which, he supposes, begs the question: ] Were they metaphorical or literal? [ the question itself is uttered with an idle, contemplative curiosity; it's likely not something that truly matters, but if she answers, it'll give him more of a measure of her, he thinks.

nevertheless: should go back inside. more than anything else here, it's interesting how, as a group, they've come to place such importance on something they know nothing about; not the slightest truth, and yet—

she's right. or rather: he wants to know.

so he nods and offers her a smile; it's not as bright as hers, equally as fake but as equally close to appearing real. ] I can't imagine any reason to hide it. [ exaggerate, downplay, obscure, mislead? certainly, but to outright refuse to answer? no. ]

Hmm... It does sound like something out of one of those stories, doesn't it? Burning bushes and angels appearing and the like.

[She wasn't even trying to be intentionally dismissive, she really did see them as stories. Despite having lived her first ten years in the US, she'd been quietly raised to not take America particularly seriously - least of all their monotheistic religion.]

But oh, definitely literal. [she continues on, her answer delivered without any hesitation whatsoever.] It was like I was right in front of them, they were so... present. [It's said softly, awe slipping into her expression. she believed her imagination to be more than adept, but she'd never seen anything inside her head as clearly before.

After recapping her water bottle and slipping it into her purse, just in case she needs it later, she stands up and lets out a light, melodic laugh that's pleasant to hear. And to the trained ear, obviously put on but that's kind of the point. It's nice, to have someone who'll play along and so well c:]

Really? I can~

[ "definitely literal." that's interesting and not entirely the answer he'd been expecting; the awe, too, intrigues him although at present, he can't relate, not as such. not yet. he can imagine when his experiences are less from the perspective of a spectator, he'll be able to appreciate the unshakeable faith a touch more, but—

not the issue at present. he supposes he'll find out one way or the other shortly.

he hums in response to her latter remark, the utterance punctuated by a short laugh of agreement (though not of surprise); it's not that he can't think of a reason to hide whatever he'd remember or experience or gain, it's that doing as much would paint himself as openly suspicious and, more than that, untrustworthy. ] Well, no useful reason. [ a beat. there's a fine line, a point at which understandable, relatable caution becomes something else entirely, and more than that— ] We all want answers. [ a breath and an amendment: ] Information.

[ he doesn't glance at her again before walking back into the exhibition. he's aware, mildly, that it's likely tempting fate to be so openly dismissive of wanting to completely hide whatever he'll "remember" or gain, but he likes to think he's quick enough at thinking to be able to work around it should it work against him. ]

It's true. [Her smile shifts to something more demure to indicate her concession; she's happy just to trail along after him. To watch. All the better to pick up on subtle changes.

Really, she wouldn't be surprised if he tried to hide the moment of the occurrence, if he could reasonably do so. And she would find it charming.]

[ it's somewhat discomforting to know he's being watched — haruka's own experience was unexpected (in a sense) and unprompted; not something he'd been explicitly watching for, but this, now—

deliberately, he tries not to pay her any mind as they re-enter the exhibit; whilst the wolf statue is pointedly different, there's something about the two statues of the snakes that captures his attention more and had done from when he'd first entered the gallery. he can't place why — it's more of a lingering kind of interest, a familiarity, present at the very edge of his thoughts that, whenever he tries to focus, slips away

(not that it's important now.)

he comes to a stop in front of the second of the two — the snake with the exposed heart: black, an implied wickedness — and he thinks. hadn't something been said (shared) — touching the statues (one of them would be enough, he hopes) would prompt a — thing. experience. he lets out a breath (quiet, almost inaudible), a mild sense of trepidation sitting in the very centre of his stomach.

well, then—
he runs his fingers along the painted scales (a feigned sense of interest he doesn't quite feel), though his hand soon drops away from the statue, fingers curling into a loose fist at his side (more a lack of surety than of aggression.) "—veiled us in smoke to aid our escape." (his voice.) laughter; "yes, some do battle, others just do tricks." (a second person; unplaceable but with a sense of the familiar; love and envy.) then, there had been a third person, utterly inconsequential but not without a lingering sense of distaste at their laugh, short and slight, and—.

he lets out another breath, this one deliberately audible and with humour lacing its tone. when he speaks, he turns back to face haruka, expression set not in a reflection of the odd way he feels (more than anything else, it had been hearing his own voice and knowing it to be his—) but in a friendly openness. ]

A wine glass transformed into a snake. [ phrased deliberately so as to omit the "I", even though he has little doubt she'll wish for him to elaborate further. ] Fitting, don't you think?

Magic...

[It comes out breathily; she's intrigued and she's not going to hide it. She'd found that generally, people liked to answer her questions when it was clear she was genuinely interested in the answers.

Still...]

When you put it like that? Very.

[Because she knows that they're both perfectly aware that there's more than one way to say things. That, paired with his expression... the amusement seemed real enough, but openness? Immediately after witnessing his own personal vision? She knew she didn't know him well at all, but Haruka had a better grasp on the person that was Luke than someone who would be expected to buy into that.]

Who did it, though? Was it you? [and after a moment of hesitation, because the intent behind it is born more of personal interest in him than she'd like:] What was it like for you?

No. [ it's a touch more clipped than he'd have liked, but he can't, won't accept that it had been (was, would be?) him; a beat and somewhat softer, coupled with a dismissive, disinterested shrug: ] It wasn't anyone I recognised. [ which isn't entirely true. there had been a sense of the familiar, a recognised sense of — ego, righteousness and smugness in the reaction, in expectation. he'd known it, then, as well as he knows himself now, but—

a twitch of his lips and the barest hint of wry self-deprecation: ] Not unless I'm harbouring a hitherto unknown fondness for armour and cloaks.

[ he pauses, the hesitation (if it can be called that) wholly genuine. "what was it like?" it's a broad question, one he's entirely sure how to answer — so he doesn't, not immediately, instead turning to face the exit of the gallery. if they're going to discuss this, even in an entirely general sense, he doesn't think doing as much around the statues is entirely wise. ] Coffee? [ it's only half a question, really, as he doesn't bother to wait for an answer, and regardless of her answer (or non-answer), he adds: ] Disconcerting would be the best way of putting it, I think; familiar and not, all at once.

[ more than anything else, it's the not knowing he hates the most, the forced ignorance and fumbling in the dark. ]

[A singsong 'You never know' is on the edge of her lips when Haruka decides it better to hold her tongue. Whatever his reasons were, it was clear that it wasn't a possibility he liked so why push the matter? It wasn't that important for her to know, let alone at the risk of alienating him.

Still... 'armour and cloaks'. Interesting.

A quiet, surprised 'Eh?' slips out at the prompt, morphing into an 'Oh' when hits her why seconds later. The walls have ears and she had been uncharacteristically careless. A brief nod and a soft-]

Yes.

[-in response to both, if not unambiguously. And then she's turning, beginning her walk towards the exit.]

[ he nods at that, pleased at his lack of need to elaborate or infer as to why he'd suggested it, once again leading the way out of the room and up the stairs towards the café. it's nothing special, of course, bearing nothing more than an entirely generic selection of overpriced cakes, sandwiches and cold and hot beverages. he doubts the café itself is inherently any safer (as it were) than the exhibition room itself, but it's busier, there's a more immediate bustle to the room, a greater mix of individuals and more importantly, it's louder.

essentially, then, they don't stand out at all.

lining up in the queue, he scans the list of drinks (lattes; espressos; americanos; mochas; hot chocolates; "add a flavoured syrup!"; full fat milk, skimmed milk and soy milk—) before glancing across at haruka. he'd mentioned it, so it would only be polite— ] What are you having? [ he's never cared for elaborate coffees, although he supposes it adds something to the socialisation; when the option's removed, he's always put in mind of dingy diners circa the 90s, serving the basics and nothing more, instant drinks from a machine, fried food and lack of modernisation.

a beat — a pause, as he gives haruka time to consider what she's going to have, and then he comments, mildly and without bothering to frame it in context (she'd know, after all, and no-one overhearing, deliberately or not, would): ] It's curious that there's no apparent similarities between them all.

Just a caffè macchiato, I think. and yourself?

[Actually, all she really wanted was a strong coffee, but that wasn't how ordering drinks worked. Latte macchiatos were her childish coffee go-to, given that leftover ice in frappuccinos tended to annoy her. Caffè lattes were her step up, still a 'girly' drink but not overly so, something to be drunk around family. Caffè macchiatos were for business, the implication that she was a girl who wanted to be taken seriously but still desired something fancy, something cute to her coffee. Someone to be regarded but ultimately - underestimated. There was no need display how grim of a person she was just quite yet.

...All of this, even though she doesn't actually read much into what other people drink.]

Honestly, I think I had expected as much, given what I'd heard beforehand. Still- [There's an intentional beat, but then it's their turn in line so projecting an amicable aura (shy, cute smile; eyes that appear eager; a tilt of her head while she waits) and giving her order delays her continuation slightly. It's when she's moving towards a table that suits their interests (suitable surrounding volume; direct path of escape) that she picks up where she left off:]

How can it be that they're all so personal...?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the "p" doesn't stand for pretentious, FYI. [art gallery, may 6th—??? ]

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