Open // Incomplete

[jardin_npcs]

Characters: All Jardin students and staff.
Location: The Gallery of Reminiscence
Time: October 1st and 2nd
Summary: They gather while they sleep, to see their memories on display.

Comments

[justonehero]

Art wasn't Travis' thing.

Well, that's not completely true. Old school art wasn't Travis' thing. He enjoyed a good anime or game every now and then. Maybe a movie. But he didn't like art museums. Or stuffy old places where art hung. So his presence in the corridor was as much a surprise to himself as to anyone else.

As they say though, when in Rome, walk around like you know what the Romans do. And some of the art was really interesting. Especially one, which seemed to call to Travis. It wasn't the center one, one of a man that Travis knew he'd hate because of it's grandiose size. No, he was drawn to one of the more abstract pieces. What looked like a hand was in the upper right corner, and a figure of a bowing man was in the lower left. From these, bold splashes of red seemed to emanate, nearly filling the rest of the piece.

"Cool." Travis grinned. He recognized this. How could he not recognize his own work?

[erasedroyalty]

"'Cool'?"

Nina stood at the other end of the painting, still a ways from Travis. She sent him a unreadable look before turning to study the painting he had admired. It made no sense to her and she couldn't tell what was going on - it was a mess of color that suggested shapes, people, and things, but she couldn't see.

What she could recognize was that it was a very violent painting.

[justonehero]

Travis turned towards Nina. Another fan of his art? Awesome. Especially her.

"Fuck yeah. Not sure how it's here, but I'll take some recognition over none any day." He pushed up his ever present glasses up higher onto his nose. He didn't want them slipping. "What do you think?"

[erasedroyalty]

"I'm not quite sure," she answered honestly, still maintaining some distance between her and Travis. "I don't know what is happening within, other than it seems quite... bloody." She reaches out to touch the red splotches briefly, half-expecting her fingers to be covered in red paint when she draws them back.

[trulyevilprince]

Serph isn't quite sure if he's awake or asleep. Suddenly finding himself in a place he's sure he hasn't seen before might imply the latter, but with the bouts of amnesia he's been having lately, he's not about to take anything for granted.

The paintings are interesting enough, he supposes, but most of them don't seem to make any real sense. Until one catches his eye --

A grotesque monster with bluish-grey skin and huge blades on its arms.

He steps a bit closer, examining the canvas.

[reasons_suck]

Naoki makes his way down the hall, slightly glowing as he moves. He was almost getting used to this dream thing, almost. At the very least, this one wasn't hurting him yet.

This one also seemed to actually have people. And odd art.

When he saw Serph pausing by one particular painting, he makes a bee line for his duelist. He had been quiet recently, and this was good a reason as any to ask why.

However, Naoki stops as he notices the painting besides Serph. It was a painting obviously of the blonde kid from Naoki's dream, only the features were warped. Extended. Made to seem devilish. And in the middle is the bug. The thing that the kid had dropped. Naoki's hand reached for the back of his neck instinctively.

[trulyevilprince]

Serph takes a step back from the painting when he sees Naoki approaching, giving him a silent nod in greeting.

Noting Naoki's reaction to the next painting over, however, Serph's gaze moves to inspect that one instead. Different from his painting, certainly, but the two aren't without similarities.

He gives Naoki a questioning look.

[reasons_suck]

How could he explain it? Did he really want to? When even he wasn't sure what it meant? Serph could possibly help, but...

That bug, the centipede thing. Even in paint, it looked like it was going to pop out. Pop out and burrow into him again. Naoki was decidedly creeped out just by looking at it. So he instead turned towards Serph, lowering his hand from his horn as he did so, trying to make the move seem natural.

He was failing pretty hard.

Naoki then shrugged. How could he even try to explain something he himself didn't understand? He then nodded towards the painting Serph had been looking at. Maybe he'd feel like starting the conversation?

[ofpenandsword]

Fakir had settled on one painting. The others, although interesting and very beautifully executed, did not make sense and therefore meant very little to him. Some even were too blurry to even grasp the subject

[ententeich]

"Hello? Is there anybody here?" Ahiru called out as she wandered the corridors. She was surrounded by paintings on every side, paintings that made no sense to her, but one suddenly caught her attention, causing her to stop and stare.

It was of a duck wearing a small crown, gracefully dancing with a armored knight deep in the depths of a lake. Above the two, painted in the sky, were a pair of two eyes, staring not just at the two dancers below but somehow at the viewer also. Ahiru stepps back, a old feeling of fear sending shivers up her spine when she feels the eyes looking at her (which is silly, it's only a painting so how can it look at her?) when a faint noise causes her to glance away.

She's relieved to come across someone she recognizes, after those unsettling eyes, even if it is her nigh-unapproachable roommate. "Fakir!" she calls out, running up towards the older boy standing in front of the picture. "Fakir, I am so glad to see you, do you know where we are?" she pants, before straightening and noticing that he seemed to be

[ofpenandsword]

Fakir jumped at the sound of her voice, so entranced by the bloody painting that he hadn't noticed her approach until just now. His heart was pounding wildly in his throat, ridiculous really, when it was only a picture and Ahiru was only a clumsy girl.

"I'm fine," He answered tersely, raising a hand to unbutton his collar a bit. He felt like he couldn't breathe. "What did you say again?"

[ententeich]

"I asked if you were all right," Ahiru repeats, noting that he still looked a bit shaken. "Was there something wrong?" She turned to look at the painting Fakir seemed so interested in; it too seemed familiar somehow, but she was unable place it, when she let out a sudden cry.

"The knight!" she exclaimed, hitting her fist in her palm. "He's in another painting, I'll show you!" She grabs his hand, tugging him in the direction of the painting of the duck and knight.

[swordhearted]

Although he'd spent some minutes wandering around, Kenshin finally found himself lingering by one painting, in one of the outer corridors, away from the center.

A woman, beautiful but with a somber, unreadable expression on her face, her white skin and whiter kimono splattered with red.

You made it rain blood.

He reached towards the canvas, but stopped midway. He wasn't sure where it came from, but somehow he had the feeling that his touch would only bring her misfortune, whoever she was.

[witch_in_white]

She stands watching him from a distance for a while, her dark blue kimono matching the drapes in this place perfectly. Somehow, she seems like part of the furniture until she steps forward.

"Well, what a joy to find you here as well," she says, semi-happily.

[swordhearted]

He turns to face her, the serious expression swiftly giving way to the cheerful mask. "Good evening, Miss Yuuko."

[witch_in_white]

He's good. Almost too good to admire-- who knows how he got to be so talented at hiding himself in plain sight, after all?

"I suppose that is what it is, yes," she smiles back at him. "Do drop the 'miss', however."

[hypotheticalend]

Oh.

He didn't mean to fall asleep. He hardly ever did. He hardly ever slept well either, always fitful, dreams and plans and urges compulsions needs and then he'd wake up. But that wasn't todaytonight this was odd.

Teatime liked the thunder, the splitting of skies and the feeling of closed ceilings, dark places that leave you plenty of room to hide. If this was a dream, one not about hatred and loathing, there might be something interesting in it. Exploring was obviously the best option. As he made his way down the hall, taking the time, counting the seconds between the distant claps of thunder, before he stops. In a small frame, hung badly and the image itself crumpled and the edges worn.

A fat man in a red suit smiled back at him.
And he couldn't stop the laughter.

[miss_sensible]

Susan dreamed.

She found herself in a corridor of artworks*. She noticed several of her students were also in the corridor - as well as a man who was certainly not her student.

Dammit. Why did she have to dream about Teatime?

She was about to ignore him and walk on by - but then she she heard him laughing. And noticed the picture he was looking at...

She knew that man...

*Most of the artworks didn't interest her much. In fact, she didn't think most of them deserved the title of "art". They just looked like meaningless splotches of paint.