OTA

Nov. 28th, 2016 07:10 pm
wispofathing: (Introspective)
[personal profile] wispofathing posting in [community profile] londoncallingrpg
Curnen’s head felt tangled, and it almost seemed to her that her hair was all the harder to tame these days because of it. Ever since her disastrous phone call to Bliss where her elder sister had given her a blistering dressing down for the danger she could have brought to their people for her whimsical friendship of the Seelie prince. Curnen had assured her sister—and through her, Mandalay—that Willy meant her no harm, but by then a sister’s worry had overcome a regent’s duty and logic had left the conversation. There had been a lot of storm and stress that night.

And ever since then, Curnen had not known what to do with herself. She performed as she always had, but it rankled yet more and more that her few original songs remained lost to her, that her wings did not stir. So that day, after she finished her set she remained in the park for a long time, fiddling in the vain hope that perhaps something new might come to her fingers.

It wasn’t. It never was. She felt all too close to blowing away all over again.

And that was when she knew it was time to go see The Painting.

The Fairy Feller’s Master Stroke hung in the Tate Gallery, but Curnen knew that nobody else here knew it was but a copy of a copy, a shadow of a shadow, and the Tufa destiny in paint. It showed a man, his back to the viewer, holding an axe high over his head. Around him stood myriad fae in court finery, their faces stylized and a little frightening. The original painting, known to only a very few, lay in the small town of Cricket. In the basement of the Overbay house, in Bliss’s care, the original and mirror image of this existed in tapestry, showing Rockhouse’s face, his smug and prideful face in the moment before he’d ruined them all.

And through the stylization one might discern Curnen’s own face in the painted crowd. Might. She had not been there at this moment, she had not yet been born. And yet there she was.

She stared at it for a long time in contemplative silence, wondering what it meant. For her people. For herself.

((Run into Curnen in the park or in the museum, your choice.))

Date: 2016-11-29 06:58 am (UTC)
offthebeatenpath: (im a wanderer)
From: [personal profile] offthebeatenpath
It had been longer than Em liked since she'd spent a day exploring one of London's many museums, so when no one stopped for a reading in her first hour out for the day and the cards didn't show that improving much, she packed up and headed for the Tate.

She'd been there awhile and was looking at Sargent's Mme. Gautreau study when the dark haired young woman entered the room and went straight to the incredibly detailed Fairy Feller's Master Stroke. Em didn't think anything of it at first, but the woman was still starting at the painting when Em had moved further around the room. Moving let her get a better look at the woman, and connections began to form in Em's mind. Same dark hair, similar build. The woman almost could've stepped out of the painting, the way she looked.

Or maybe she had, in a way, something in the painting triggering a vision in a mind that had felt slipperier than usual since Halloween. But Em couldn't exactly ask a stranger if they were real. She stepped nearer, her gaze on the painting. "Every time I look at this one, I see something I missed before," she said quietly.

Date: 2016-11-30 07:12 am (UTC)
offthebeatenpath: (veiled)
From: [personal profile] offthebeatenpath
"There is something about it." Em let her gaze slid over the painting without lingering on any details. "Maybe it's just the subject, but I always think of... I don't know you said it, but it was something like, 'I don't believe in fairies, but don't even think of messing with fairy circles,' like looking too closely you could get lost or lose time or something."

Date: 2016-12-01 06:00 am (UTC)
offthebeatenpath: (i see what you did there)
From: [personal profile] offthebeatenpath
"I'd clap, but the attendants probably wouldn't like the disruption," Em replied in a similarly light tone. She couldn't exactly explain why she did believe in fair folk. "I don't want anyone dying because of me, though."

Date: 2016-12-01 07:06 am (UTC)
offthebeatenpath: (i am)
From: [personal profile] offthebeatenpath
"It's not survival of the fittest, that's for sure."

Em watched the woman out of the corner of her eye. "Tennessee? The Carolinas somewhere? I've heard the accent before, but I can't remember where."

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Date: 2016-11-29 01:18 pm (UTC)
old_man_gavril: (GavrilWifeBeater)
From: [personal profile] old_man_gavril
Parks weren't really Gavril's thing, but he'd been looking for places to jog without having to travel very far from his apartment. He preferred mountain trails, paths in the untamed countryside, that sort of thing. Parks were, in their own way, neutered.

Still, it was nice to get out and see the green. He figured he'd make this his regular day's routine. It was especially nice with the other people about. People-watching had always been a habit of his; he figured it was some primordial hunting instinct. Perhaps something in him that still swore allegiance to Skadi.

Scents were another thing, though, and someone, to him, smelled a little... off. In a way that was almost instinctual, he began to follow the smell without looking much like he was looking for someone.

And almost as if something about her scent gave him a clue of who it was he was following, he saw her. He couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow, as he dared to approach her. This spot of the park, at this particular time, wasn't quite as crowded.

"Still fairly nice weather, isn't it?" he asked. Then again, Gavril usually had to take pains to make it look like he felt the temperature. He was always, always warm, no matter what season.

Date: 2016-11-30 05:08 am (UTC)
old_man_gavril: (GavrilLeanForward)
From: [personal profile] old_man_gavril
Her voice was beautiful, Gavril had to admit. His sensitive ears picked up her words, though he only heard the last few lines.

"You're a singer, then?" he asked, smiling slightly. And a player, too. She did both real well, from his knowledge of the the arts. Then again, it wasn't like he was a connoisseur himself.

Date: 2016-11-30 01:07 pm (UTC)
old_man_gavril: (GavrilGrayTee)
From: [personal profile] old_man_gavril
"I'd say you do a bit more than dabble," Gavril replied, smiling a bit at her. "Mind if I sit awhile and listen?" he asked, still curious about her scent. It was... familiar, somehow, but also not.

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Date: 2016-12-01 01:00 am (UTC)
winter_wisp: (>_>)
From: [personal profile] winter_wisp
Winter was loitering behind her, and after a moment decided to make himself known.

"It's a good painting," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Date: 2016-12-01 01:49 am (UTC)
winter_wisp: (winter)
From: [personal profile] winter_wisp
"I see you," Winter whispered, grinning and then quickly kissing her cheek before moving to stand at her side. "Are they your kin?"

Date: 2016-12-01 03:18 am (UTC)
winter_wisp: (foof)
From: [personal profile] winter_wisp
"Shadows of what will come- What came," Winter said, correcting himself as he leaned in closer to get a better look at it.

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Date: 2016-12-03 10:18 pm (UTC)
pixiesweat: (Default)
From: [personal profile] pixiesweat
There was someone walking through the park that she might recognise. And he was sober this time.

Their previous meeting had been brief, but he hadn't been so out of it that he couldn't remember her. So when he saw the familiar face he slowed, looking uncertain, like he wasn't sure it was really her, or he wasn't sure if he should talk to her.

Date: 2016-12-13 01:52 am (UTC)
pixiesweat: (Default)
From: [personal profile] pixiesweat
It was her. He blushed, embarrassed as he remembered the state he'd been in last time they met.

"Hi," he said, a little sheepishly, once she'd finished playing.

Date: 2016-12-13 03:51 am (UTC)
pixiesweat: (Default)
From: [personal profile] pixiesweat
That made him blush even harder. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry I was so... so weird last time."

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