At the Gallery
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A story drabble written for the pleasure of myself and a friend, to whom part of these characters belong to. A simple little blurb about our characters in an art gallery and enjoying each others' company. Forgive me for the awkward, I am not used to using other people's characters so directly. :) Focal couple is two men, btw.
Ticking, sounding, and rain streaming unhappy little faces down the large, framed windows, shadows were cast on the floor like dim reminders of the past that was present within the marble and stone halls, arching up and out to encase the world as it once was.
A flicker of lights after one particularly sound crash and rumble and Shisou tried not to snicker at the elderly woman near him as she imparted near tearful words about the possible prospect of the museum and art gallery having to close due to the weather.
In his mind, Shisou rolled his eyes as he answered her, not exactly in a pitying mood, but not in the mood either to let such a good opportunity go to waste. As long as the lights don't go out, lady. You should be fine as long as the lights stay on and the monsters don't come out...
Returning his focus back to the half naked display of a sort of surreal picture that many seemed to avoid, the tall, darkly colored man contemplated what he was staring at. Or rather felt what he was staring at. Going to art galleries had never been his thing before but since, lately, he had been slowing down with age and time, he'd begun to uncover a fascinating and bizarre nature that awaited him. He was no string master and preferred to look at the world with a more...energetic sense, being a vampire who sought out life and blood – energy and a state of being.
Some artists poured themselves into the art he now wandered amongst, some of it was violent, some of it was foolish and reckless but all of it was strong, at times seemingly much stronger than the neatly painted and carefully articulated paintings and portraits. Those contained more frustration towards the upper layers. He found that which was a bit more abstract, a bit more surreal and chaotic tended to have the richest and most potent energy left. It left goosebumps down his spine – he truly was liking those, the abstract and surreal, the bizarre and uncouth. They felt a bit like coming home rather than trying to lie to you about various sorts of things, but it was only because their energy was easier to read.
Smiling a little, Shisou's brow arched instinctively a hair before he heard a quiet voice close to his ear. “I see you've found Picasso.” The quiet pair of neatly dressed feet finally made sounds next to his own, a slight contrast of color in store – cooler tones against warmer tones. Very fitting.
He chuckled, reaching up and adjusting his sunglasses, pressing them further down his nose as he nodded. “Yep. Guy had a sort of sarcastic, good sense of humor – the paintings are pretty hard to not start laughing at; I like them.” He pressed them back up again to avoid letting anyone notice the unnatural gleam of red.
The charming voice that slightly echoed around the edges agreed. “Of course, Picasso was a man who knew a good joke when he saw one, commenting on more than just the art, of course...”
He smiled a little wider, bemused at his fiancé's response. “Well, I wouldn't know so much about that, obviously. Not so much a String Master like you...”
Ashten's smile was easily perceived even before Shisou turned to face him. “And yet a String Master's pet...” There was almost a slight tease, but it was already apparent between them that Shisou was already teasing back.
Before, the idea of not understanding nearly as much as Ashten and the others did bothered the large vampire. He'd been obsessed with finding a place or making a place and that place had usually meant he wanted power to be able to control his reality and be rid of all of the horrible things that bothered him so. But he was Shisou, nothing more, nothing less when no one else could be him.
His hand moved, bare, chilled fingers gently touching Ashten's warmer ones, his red eyes behind black frames still fondly gazing at his face.
Ashten, of course, responded, fingers wrapping about the colder ones offered before they abruptly warmed themselves, Shisou focusing a bit more on the touch and comfort brought together by the simple motion. It always affected his energy like that, warming it instantly to varying degrees depending on mood – and his mood was very much...adoring at the moment.
Ashten's sudden question brought Shisou out of his slight, pleased haze. “What did you think of Van Gogh?”
Looking back at Picasso's work, it took Shisou a moment to reorient himself away from all the witty, sarcastic humors that that artist left him with to find Van Gogh amongst all the others. “Sad, but intense, perhaps a little faulty and...well, human.”
The other nodded his assent, a motion the vampire caught out of the corner of his eye. “Van Gogh – all of them. So many places and stories and lives. Not one better than the other, struggling just the same to be and to live.” Ashten paused a little as Shisou chuckled.
“Come on, you know that's not true – old Edgar wanted to end everything, lost in so much helpless despair -”
Ashten chuckled. “Like Lovecraft, though extenuating circumstances, like with all, aided him in his fear and despair.”
Shisou's response was bemused, his hand stuffed in his pocket adjusting itself as he grinned a little. “String Masters and books...”
A gentle reminder. “Healer too...”
At that moment Shisou tried very hard not to make a sort of giggling, half-wit sort of noise as a trickling impulse to do so tickled through his hand along his spine like an intimate, exploring caress, fondness on its edges. “Y-yeah,” he coughed a little, a blush managing to color his pale cheeks. “Healer.”
The responding smile was all worth the surprise and Shisou gazed at it for many moments as the soft tinker of lounge piano jazz drifted through the aged rafters, causing all to slowly drip over the floor with the pealing, clear notes, sighing nearly in unison as relaxation swept over them.
Across the way he could tell most definitely that Matteus and Morelyn were completely enraptured, strings jumping this way and that, nearly fondling corners and details as their rapture and comfort was close to its peak, Ghis nearby and smiling bemusedly at his parents and their cheerful antics while trying to do his own sort of exploring, being curious about the human condition as was.
Everyone was enjoying themselves, it seemed, and it was a well deserved vacation for Satan and his family and friends, Shisou was most sure of that now. Some years ago, it came to his attention, he would have severely disliked this sort of thing, indeed, Matteus had struggled with Shisou's disinterest though respected it and understood it. Even Aarien then, yes, he'd had to deal with Shisou's mild scorn and simultaneous shame for things the slightly illiterate vampire hadn't understood, for lives and paths. They were things he had wanted to dominate, not be apart of, and it had been painful to learn that he could not just waltz away with the information he wanted so desperately. But he had always been a bit divided on that point. Being a master of...? What? Master of cowing people, killing them? He was good at it, to be sure but... Eh..
A sigh and Shisou's hidden red eyes gazed reluctantly back at the artwork, his energy shifting amongst the energy of all those others who had pressed their own feelings and emotions onto it – disgust, largely, some more withdrawn, casual opinions and then....down to the core, the sense of irony, the charming spurn and smile.
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