|
|
Post by Yusagi on Mar 7, 2007 21:13:23 GMT -5
Color. A reflection of light that one's eye recognizes as a specific pattern. Colors didn't exist in true darkness, because color was simply a manifestation of light. An illusion. Therefore, pictures were nothing more than a fancy trick of lighting.
So in effect, artists were the world's largest scam artists. And she had to hand it to them, the did one hell of a job at it, for having no powers.
She crossed her arms as she walked down the small gallery of paintings that were up for general auction. The paintings were very 90s comick-y. Most were dark and grisly, too. She didn't actually have a reason to be here, and had no intention of buying anything (where would you stick a picture without a house? Besides, she could just make her own pictures if she really wnated one).
She stopped her wanderings in front of a painting depicting a house in flames, with a shadowy figure standing in the rain outside it.
"How steriotypical." She drawled to no one in particular, eyes lingering on the picture anyway, memory recalling a similar event only two years before.
|
|
|
|
Post by Simone Deveaux on Mar 7, 2007 21:41:42 GMT -5
Simone Deveaux walked through the gallery that her best client and ex-boyfriend, Isaac Mendez, had painted. Most of the pictures were violent and gothic, bordering on the abstract in some. It wasn't anything new for him, but the frequency of such pictures seemed to be more and more every day, since he discovered his power. It was disappointing, really. His pieces trhat weren't dark were usually beautiful, like the one that he'd drawn of her and Peter kissing. It was one of the first sold at this auction.
Her eyes stopped suddenly on a woman looking at a picture of a house on fire. For some reason, she felt drawn to her. She walked forward and stood next to her, eyeing the piece. She tilted her head and then looked at the woman, who had a cynical expression on her face.
"Happiness destroyed," she said conversatorially. "Mr. Mendez said it was one of his favorite pieces. He said there was so much emotion in this one, but he didn;t really know how or why."
|
|
|
|
Post by Yusagi on Mar 7, 2007 21:54:06 GMT -5
Usually, when the saleswoman--or man--arrived, she would leave. But she just couldn't tear her eyes away from the damn picture. She really needed pychological help.
"She shouldn't have been playing with matches." She replied, voice more wistful and less sarcastic than she intended. Before adding "Or he, anyway."
Quit staring.
"Does Mister Mendez only paint doom and gloom?" She turned her gaze to the woman disaffectedly. "A bit cliche, isn't it? Although a bit less boring than still life, I suppose. I was always a bit more of a fan of comics than single paintings, myself."
|
|
|
|
Post by Simone Deveaux on Mar 8, 2007 3:15:56 GMT -5
"Only recently," she said with an air of disappoinment in her voice. "There have been some troubles in his life recently. This is some of the best work he's put out, though." She took a step back and eyed the piece more intently.
"You know," she said wistfully. "Most of these pictures, as abstact as they are, seem to have a bit of truth in them, you know?" she told the woman. "Like they'll actually happen some time. It's scary some of the things he's drawn. Like that." She motioned to a painting of a burning bus behind them. "That picture was painted three months before a carbombing to a bus with an identical number on it took place."
"And Mr. Mendez is a comic artist," she infromed her. "He draws the 9th Wonders Series."
|
|
|
|
Post by Yusagi on Mar 8, 2007 3:31:28 GMT -5
She barely resisted the sardonic grin that wished to form on her face. Then he was a bit late in painting this one, wasn't he?
She glanced at the painting the woman pointed at for a moment, and shrugged. "The stories you hear these days...maybe they will. Not the bubblegum and soda world I used to remember."
Her mouth twisted into a sarcastic smirk at her own words, before she glanced at the picture of a flaming bus. So much fire in this world. Death, destruction, devistation...where were those comic book heroes?
At the mention of a comic book, she turned toward the woman, arching a slim eyebrow. "Comic book? I've never heard of it, I suppose I'll have to look for it...they're a fine chance to break from this world into one with heroes and justice and extraordinary powers, don't you think?"?
|
|
|
|
Post by Simone Deveaux on Mar 9, 2007 3:08:49 GMT -5
"Oh, I don't know," Simone said. "I was never really a comic book fan, though I liked the idea of them. Just the thought of screaming out for help and someone would save you..." her mind wandered to Isaac for a moment. Although he was clean now, and had gone to get help, she'd known he'd used heroin for a long time and did nothing about it. In away, it was her fault that he'd gotten to the point he did. Some hero she was.
She cleared her mind and looked at her again. "Can I ask you why this piece draws you? I don't mean to pry, but Mr Mendez' paintings usually only get this amount of individual attention when there's a connection to it."
|
|
|
|
Post by Yusagi on Mar 9, 2007 3:25:05 GMT -5
She chuckled. "We all need to think that calling for our knight will save us sometimes. Its what keeps the world sane sometimes...having someone you know will save you no matter what." With a shrug, she added. "Or at least you think will save you."
She glanced at the woman a moment, before gazing back at the painting. What were the chances anyone would find her out here? Did it really matter? After all, she probably wouldn't believe her anyway, and even if she did, no one knew Amelia Simmon.
"Two years ago, my house...burned down. With my family in it." She smirked at the woman. "You could say it brings back memories."
|
|
|
|
Post by Simone Deveaux on Mar 14, 2007 22:26:04 GMT -5
"I'm sorry for your loss..." she said absently. Her mind was suddenly occupied by what the woman said. This painting was only a month old, and as far as she could tell, he only painted future events. Where things were starting to clear up, this conversation seemed to be fogging things up again.
"Excuse me for being forward," Simone said suddenly, before she realized she was saying anything at all, "but would you mind meeting Mr. Mendez in person?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Yusagi on Mar 14, 2007 22:40:49 GMT -5
Like all condolences from people who couldn't possibly fathom what they were sorry for, the woman's words barely registered enough to her to acknowledge them, as her gaze ran across the painting. Where aspiring artists might study the brush strokes, she studied the hues and patterns on the easel, and how the light reflected off of the dried paint. considering how she might be able to replicate it with her own brand of illusion.
The woman's next comment, however, was about as far from the usual Art Salesmen banter script stuff as it got, and served to surprise her enough to break away from the picture to stare at the woman for a few moments.
"Meet him in person?" She blinked. Well...she didn't actually have anything planned...and...who knew? What if, just maybe, he had some snippet of information?
She shrugged. "Not at all, I suppose."
|
|
|
|
Post by Simone Deveaux on Mar 18, 2007 4:38:34 GMT -5
Simone smiled at her. "Good," she rsponded in turn. "Do you mind waiting until the show closes down? I'd love to go now, but I have to stay until the show's closed for the night." After receving an acknowledgement from the woman, she walked off and conversed with other patrons until the close of the gallery. Like she said she would, the woman had waited until the gallery closed down.
Quickly, Simone pulled out her cell phone and dialed Isaac's number. "Isaac?" she said to the man when he picked up. "I'm coming over, with someone from the gallery who is interested in talking with you. She says one of her pictures is reminiscent of something that happened to her." She hung up the phone before Isaac could say anything.
She walked over to Miri and smiled. "So, are you ready to go?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Yusagi on Mar 18, 2007 5:00:45 GMT -5
Wait...since when did 'do you wanna meet him some time?' mean 'You wanna wait until I'm not busy and go see him?'. Really. What was up with the world these days?
She sighed and rolled her eyes at the woman's back, as she sauntered off to leave her bored for....who knew how long. Really, she should just leave right now, and forget it. What information was she really going to find, anyway?
Not that she had anything else to be doing.
Well. Damn.
With an oppressed sigh, she sat down on what the musuem claimed was a chair, and waited alot longer than she should have, for the boring people to leave.
When the woman finally arrived (and she might have grown some gray hair...who knew for sure, really, since she was currently keeping her hair raven black--which no doubt contrasted with her greenish eyes...but really...keeping up eye colors was a chore.), she smirked up at the woman, before standing.
"You don't want me to answer that. Do we have a car?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Simone Deveaux on Mar 21, 2007 1:12:22 GMT -5
"I usually take the taxi." She said, moving toward the door. "It's not far from here."
What was she doing? Taking a random guest (who didn't look like she was much of an art connoissuer) to see Isaac? What was the point? Did she...was she really about to try and convince this person he could paint the future...or past? And then what? Why? Did she just not want to feel so...crazy?
She resisted the urge to shake her head, as she rifled through her purse, looking for nothing in particular. Her fellow passenger did not seem interested in conversation, and that was fine with her.
It didn't really matter any more, she couldn't exactly go back now, so all that was left was to see how things played out. Maybe she would get some answers that would make this world a little less insane.
As she paid the taxi driver and stepped out in front of the building her father had owned while he lived, she looked over at her silent companion.
"Its just up this way." She said, pointing up at (approximately) the window to his aparment. At the woman's acknowledgement, she led the way up the steps, shrugging off the anxiousness lingering in her mind.
All too soon (or did it take too long?) she arrived at the glass doorway to her old boyfriend's apartment. Glancing to see the bored look at her companion, she opened the door and walked in, looking for the apartment's resident.
"Isaac? Are you there?"
|
|
