(closed + open prompts)

[tricksune]

Who: Yusuke Kitagawa (tricksune) and co.!
What: february catch-all; quests, intro event, etc. mix of closed/open prompts.
When: all this month
Where: olympia and wyver both
Warning(s): violence maybe, nothing serious

[ Feel free to PM/Plurk me at scythed to plan something out; I'm open to most quests, but I prefer writing individual starters for anything that requires sign-ups! Feel free to ask for an event prompt too, or just wildcard it since he'll be in both Wyver and Olympia, I'm easy. ]

Comments

[tricksune]

[ Thanks for the tough love, Yoruichi. Too bad he's not the type to pick up on it—maybe he'd give her the proper thanks, because she's managed what she set out to do. Instead, he seems surprised, almost shrinking back an inch at her pointed questioning, lips thinned. He isn't the type to cow from confrontation—it's that she has a point. ]

Of course not.

[ Perfection is an outdated goal for him, but one he has trouble abandoning. Maybe it really does just take a push? He goes from disdained to disquieted. ]

Perhaps I am more heartsick than I realized... [ Could that be why he's having so much trouble? ]

[catfident]

[ Alas, his woes fall on deaf ears, her own heart unmoved by such a paltry display of melancholy. Blame it on a few centuries of not-quite-life, or the series of bullshit shounen experiences she's had that wouldn't pass muster in any other genre; either way, his words ding right off her skin. She continues staring at him, dispassionate. ]

And so you plan to stand around and mope until the feeling passes?

[ A terrible plan, in her (not so) humble opinion. Why are human hearts so garbage. ]

I may as well remove your heart now and save us all the trouble, in that case.

[ Can she actually do that? mystery.gif ]

[tricksune]

[ How can he live up to the Tortured Artist trope if he's not in a constant state of melancholy, please. But no, he is only human—such as it is, he takes the moment to feel sorry for himself.

But for how spot-on she is with everything else, she doesn't quite get his coping mechanisms right. Though it's certainly too easy to sit around and brood... ]

Nonsense. If it is trouble with paint, then the only answer is to paint more.

[ Every day, relentlessly, until he's back to feeling better. Even if he's struggling now, he'll get better. ]

And if it's trouble within myself... I'll treat it no differently. [ The answer is still to draw. It'd help, at least. ] If I were to ever give up on art entirely, you're welcome to claim my heart. Surely life would not be worth living anyway.

[catfident]

[ How needlessly dramatic. (From the woman who'd offered to rip out his internal organs only seconds before.) But it's expected of an artist, and the fact that he's willing to devote his energies towards practice instead of moodiness does a little to raise her opinion of him. ]

I'll keep that in mind.

[ Anyway he seems fine, now that he has a painting to his name, she can probably leave him alone now and go off in search of some poor sap to con some free food off of.

—Actually, is it even to his name? She peers at one suspiciously empty corner. ]

Don't forget to sign your work, else someone might come along and claim it.

[ Like her, she'll totally claim credit for his work. She drew one whole line, it counts. ]

[tricksune]

[ Good to know someone's around to steal his corrupted heart? Maybe a little more literally than he's used to? He seems unperturbed anyway, instead looking ponderous at the suggestion. ]

Oh... yes, right.

[ Taking credit for his own stuff, who'd of thought. He looks over the canvas quietly—it isn't quite where he wants it to be, but for a warm-up it's fine. He very nearly adds his usual calligraphy in the corner, a well-practiced signature... but then takes pause. He's in Wyver, so perhaps it's best not to attach his real name.

So he just draws a little rendition of his mask instead. ]

There. For 'Fox.'

[ Then, he passes the brush off to her. ]

You should add yours as well.

[catfident]

[ Fox? What is this, a zoo? She watches him, one eyebrow arched, but he continues to stare right at her without so much as a twitch of humor in his cheek. Apparently he's completely serious.

Alright then.

Taking the brush, she doodles a sloppy cat, recognizable only by the uneven whiskers jutting out of its face. ]

There. Fox and Cat.

[ An unlikely pair of creatures working in partnership, but they're hardly any less of a picture as human, a pasty white string bean and a dark-skinned woman barely taller than the average dwarf. Anyway, it's time for her to pull a Tuxedo Mask and disappear on outta here. She returns the brush to him, passes along a casual wave. ]

I'll try not to be so harsh on the next piece of art I see from you.

[ No promises though. ]