» she saw the pictures and painted them

[thenormalsquint]

Who: Angela and You. YES, YOU!
What: Come be drawn like one of her French girls.
Where: A street corner a few blocks away from the inn.
When: Early Misdi afternoon
Warnings: The warning is... it's Angela.



On this chilly, yet sunny afternoon, Angela Montenegro can be seen walking down on of Baedal’s many streets, dragging behind her is a little red wagon filled to the brim with art supplies. Where she got the wagon isn't important; what is important, however, is what Angela's planning on doing with the equipment.

Setting up is done quickly and easily with the finesse of a pro (this isn't her first rodeo, kids.) One sketchpad is placed on an easel and flipped to a clean page where Angela scribbles in thick black marker:

ART DONE BY PARIS TRAINED ARTIST – 6 SHEKELS EACH PORTRAIT

She stands back and eyes her handiwork before an almost evil grin spreads across her face. And in smaller, but not too small, letters, Angela writes the words:

NUDES ARE WELCOME. 1 MARK.

And in even smaller letters:

PLEASE HELP ME NOT STARVE. SUPPORT THE ARTS!

And in almost illegible letters towards the bottom right corner of the page:

Please? I don't want to do death masks anymore. ):

Comments

[andyoullmissit]

"Death masks?" Clarice has her hood up today; it's chilly enough not to be weird, but she's still trying to figure out which neighborhoods like xenians and which ones really don't, too. Angela, though, can certainly see the marking son her face, if not the color right off. She can also see that Clarice's eyes lack pupils or true whites, but are a solid nearly pearlescent color.

There are weirder things than the phrase "death mask." But Clarice's tone is curious, and mainly friendly.

[thenormalsquint]

A couple years ago or so, Angela would have been taken by shock at Clarice's face, but now, after interactions with a handful of space creatures, mutants, and other xenian-type people, it doesn't bother her so much. Still, mild surprise crosses her face when she notices the differently colored skin and eyes. Not shock or fear; just mild surprise.

"Forensic facial reconstruction," Angela says, amazed that anybody could read that tiny text so easily. "I prefer to draw living things over corpses nowadays."

[andyoullmissit]

"That sounds healthy." She tilts her head. "I've never had a portrait done before. I think I'd like it better while I was still alive though." Yes, probably, Clarice.

"Do I need an appointment, or is it first come first served?"

[thenormalsquint]

"It's more whoever walks up and wants one gets one," she replies with a laugh. Patting another stool placed next to the easel, Angela turns on the charm. "Come on. You know you want to. Nobody else is offering the prices and skills I am."

[andyoullmissit]

Clarice considers a moment, then sits, lowering her hood so Angela can see her properly. "Do I pay you first, or after?"

[caballero]

Bruce is trying to keep his distance from the Valhalla in, truth be told; it's too close in proximity to unknown variables arriving without warning, and it puts him on edge. But the area is a useful hub, the nearest to Bonetown; he's decided he'll likely stay there, given the strange but very interesting lore about the place, and he needs to know the area and all that surround it by memory.

.. And that's how he comes to be distracted by this little sign, here. He doesn't appear from nowhere, but he's got a knack for being invisible in crowds until he doesn't want to be, so the appearance of this guy - wearing a baseball cap, carrying a brown paper coffee cup - might be a little surprising.

He's reading.

[thenormalsquint]

Angela blinks at the man who seems to just... appear in front of her. Okay. This place is no weirder than the last one, so she can roll with this. She smiles and points to his hands."No extra price for the cap and the coffee."

Just in case he's that type of customer that's easily swayed like that.

what was going on when i wrote this originally /awake now

[caballero]

Bruce glances up, giving her a small smile - genuine, friendly, just reserved. Like he is with most things that he is incapable of doing himself, he's pretty fascinated by art and artists. It seems like such a romantic thing - idealistic, fanciful - to do in this strange place, and if not for the quip about starving (...and the fact that he'd observed her meet with Hasibe over the network, look it's not paranoia when you're in his line of work for real) he might wonder if Angela had been in Baedal for much longer than she has.

"They're not permanent features," he says, and then steps a little closer so it's like he's actually engaging her in conversation versus hovering at the edges of interaction. "Paris?"

[thenormalsquint]

It seems like she has, even to her. That's a thing that happens with these alternate dimensions, right? Spend a few days in one and it feels like a year. And she's nowhere close to starving just yet, but still, she doesn't want to live at the inn forever. That place is too dreary to be possible.

"Shame. I haven't drawn a cap and cup in forever." Angela glances at her sign and then turns back to him with a smile and a nod. "Paris." Don't ask for details, sir. She studied at the many schools of her Paris lovers who just so happened to be artists as well.

[caballero]

"If they inspire you, I'm hardly one to stand in your way." Mild, but still congenial. A little rusty, maybe, like it's been a while since he's been out talking to anyone.

He hides a small smile by taking a sip of coffee at her reaffirmed declaration. The look he gives her says he's assuming all kinds of wild stories, there, but doesn't ask. (Yet.) ... And, all right, he glances around for where he's supposed to sit down for this - fountain edge, railing? He's easy (not like that - okay... like that, but it just means he's fine sitting wherever), and this woman's company is comfortable enough that he doesn't feel like bolting immediately. Might as well.

[neverbreaks.livejournal.com]

Jules laughs out loud when she sees the nudes comment, smirking her amusement as she ambles over, hands in a pockets and with what could possibly be called a spring in her step. Artists are nice, generally speaking; not that she's met many, but the ones she has run into really were nice. "This might not be quite up your ally, but, um-- do you do copies?"

She frowns, like that's not quite the right word, and she pulls a photograph from her pocket, worn from being folded and unfolded so many times. "Not copies, I suppose, but portraits from photographs? Or just a sketch of the photograph, really."

An apologetic smile, and she holds the picture a bit lamely, still folded up. "I hope that would be considered supporting the arts, rather than insulting them." Forgive her, Angela; she's feeling terribly awkward and terribly British.

[thenormalsquint]

"Copies?" Angela can and has done some in her years of art, but they aren't her preferred creations. Something about not being able to give a piece he own twist feels stifling. But photographs she can do, especially in exchange for money. Those aren't as limiting at tracing some other artist's painting.

"If it's not, I'm sure we can change the rules to fit," Angela replies, smiling and holding her hand out. "May I?" The picture looks older and well-loved and she would rather ask permission to hold it in case it means that much to the woman.

lmao sorry for the links :'| must add links for all the things!

[neverbreaks.livejournal.com]

"Oh, of course." She could almost roll her eyes at herself, and she holds it out. "Being able to look at it would probably rather help the process."

It's just a polaroid, some kind of silly shot that looks like it was taken when they weren't paying attention to the camera-- they being Jules, herself, and three others, just enjoying themselves outside, leaning against each other. She gives it another look, and for a moment she wonders if maybe she's just a masochist beyond any hope. "That's Em (http://multiversal.wikkii.com/w/images/multiversal/uploads/a/a5/Juleswiki_-_emilia.jpg)," comes her explanation, a sort of discomfort with quiet and need to fill the void with words (even if they are rather unnecessary) prodding her to speak. "And the twins (http://multiversal.wikkii.com/w/images/multiversal/uploads/f/f2/Juleswiki_-_twins.png). Ours- well, her twins."

ALL THE LINKS!!!! o/

[thenormalsquint]

"Your wife?" Angela replies in a soft, soothing and compassionate tone as she takes the photograph in hand and runs a gentle finger over it, smoothing out the wrinkles. It may just be a silly shot, but she can tell this captured moment means a lot to the woman. "They're adorable. All of them, but the kidlets will be heartbreakers one day."

ALL the links? D'8

[neverbreaks.livejournal.com]

"Um."

That hangs there, for a long moment, Jules scrabbling for some kind of answer. They'd not ever been married, no, but they'd had rings, but-- but.

But.

Levi had said, in their long hours together, that Emilia didn't want a hybrid around her children, which only lead to a long list of extremely negative conclusions. Jules blinks, shakes her head as if to snap herself out of a daze, and gives Angela a bright smile which is in no way genuine. Angela might deal in death masks, but Jules deals in masks that make things seem much better then they were. "My ex, actually." For all the positive spin in her expression, there's definitely still a touch of strain in her voice, and she's fiddling with the finger where her ring had been before Levi took it. "Chloe and Matthias are with her, so I don't see them anymore."

And she's here, that wouldn't help either.

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

Tadhg hails Angela before stopping to read her sign, tilting his head curiously at some points and chuckling at others. She can probably guess which is which.

"That would be a switch, to sit for someone else," he says cheerfully. "I can't afford a nude portrait until I have a job though." He might not be serious about that. Maybe.

[thenormalsquint]

"I'm sure we can work out some kind of discount or barter system." Goodness. How professional of her. She is just grinning as the day is long. "Far being it from me to overcharge a fellow artist."

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

"You're so good to me." Have a grin right back, Angela, and a laugh for good measure. "Perhaps we should arrange a private sitting after I get settled in my new place, once I decide where that should be. The púca au naturel in his natural habitat, or as close as I can get to it here."

He takes a seat on the stool. "In the meantime, how do you want me?" Soulful innocence is written all over his face, contrasting with the obvious double entendre.

[thenormalsquint]

"The question that I have now is who will be doing the sitting and exactly what consists of a púca au naturel." Those are two questions in the form of a regular sentence, but who's keeping count?

Angela, in all her infinite non-existent innocence, raises her eyebrows at him and grabs a hold of that double entendre. "On your back, mostly, but the concrete is cold and I've heard men don't deal well with the cold." What are these two even?

[alexiaswiftdawn.livejournal.com]

"Oh, how fun!" says Alexia, seeing the sign. "Well, I've got a bit of money to spare at the moment, and I wouldn't want you to starve.

"And I haven't posed for a portrait since I was about fifteen, when my family had one done, now that I think of it." Perhaps they would have done another when Ysolda was older, but things had gotten a bit... busy after that. "Where should I sit?"

[thenormalsquint]

"Good, because I wouldn't want me to starve either."

Interesting ears this one has, and Angela has to hold herself back from reaching out and touching them. "On the stool would be fantastic," she replies as she points said seat out, "Unless you want to stand and pose or something sassy."

[rhinemaid]

"Would you do the nudes on the corner here as well?"

...it's worth noting that it doesn't sound as though this would necessarily be a dealbreaker for Ilde, derailed from wherever she was going to investigate what Angela is doing. Impulse control: not something she always has a great deal of, for some strange reason. Still, besides a vague concern about being shuffled along by more conservatively-minded locals, as far as she's concerned it would only really mean the difference between baring her own skin and baring the illusion.

[thenormalsquint]

This woman is different than all the other ones that have passed by today. She looks normal, mostly; no odd skin or extra ears, missing limbs, anything of the sort. But her coloring seems oversaturated. Not like somebody who spent far too much time in the tanning bed, but somebody who's naturally brightly colored and vivid. It's a nice change of pace for Angela. She's totally not disliking it.

"Hey, if you're comfortable stripping down, I'm comfortable drawing you."

[rhinemaid]

"I don't really get modesty as a concept," Ilde admits, in the extremely telling process of unbuttoning her coat. "I just wouldn't drop the illusion in a public place. Is it allowed here, though? I can put up a screen." ...illusions, as she's already casually referenced.

She leaves her coat for now to find her wallet, buried somewhere in her obnoxiously oversized purse. (In fairness, it's that big because it's full of secrets-- okay, she's just toting a lot of things. Including a first aid kit and a knife.)

[thenormalsquint]

"Modesty is just a social rule written by uptight people. Nothing I usually try to follow except around kids." Only because kids are kids and while Angela loves them, she really doesn't need an overly precocious one poking her in her belly flab and reminding her that she should cut back on the carbs and increase the sit-ups once in a while.

"Illusion? Screen?" Angela's clearly confused at whatever this woman has begun babbling about. Just her luck. She managed to get a customer who seems to randomly go off into her own world in the middle of conversations.