TDM 1 ⬡ The Oval Portrait

[liburuzaina]

	Casting Call The Oval Portrait Edgar Allan Poe »» "Long — long I read — and devoutly, devotedly I gazed." Name: The Aristocrat Casting Call: Characters with a Birthday from September through December Physical Notes: Desperately wounded, to the point of being bedridden, but not losing consciousness. Personality Notes: Curious, and prone to becoming enraptured by the pursuit of learning about whatever has caught their curiosity. Mildly delirious due to injury. Compulsions: To learn about their surroundings, whether through study of the portraits in the chateau apartment, conversation with a companion, or ill-advised exploration. «« »» "We established ourselves in one of the smallest and least sumptuously furnished apartments." Name: The Valet Casting Call: Characters with an Unknown Birthday Physical Notes: Older than The Aristocrat by ≥ 5 years. Personality Notes: Willing and able (by force or by cleverness) to break in to a home for the well-being of their employer. A caretaker by nature. Compulsions: To see that The Aristocrat is comfortable for the night and their wounds are tended to, and to get some rest themselves once their duty is complete. In the absence of The Aristocrat, The Valet is free to act as they please. «« »» "She was a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee." Name: The Maiden Casting Call: Characters with a birthday from May through August Physical Notes: Young, aged from 15-20. Personality Notes: All smiles, loving and cherishing of all things, hating only The Painter's art, for they deprive them of their lover. Compulsions: To live life to the fullest, to love, to be happy... But also to make their husband, The Painter happy, by being a good and willing subject for his portraiture, should he ask. ⬡ Will slowly waste away and die, should they sit and allow themselves to be painted. «« »» "And evil was the hour when she saw, and loved, and wedded the painter." Name: The Painter Casting Call: Characters with a birthday from January through April Physical Notes: Older than the maiden by ≥ 10 years. Personality Notes: Passionate, studious, austere, wild, moody. More in love with his art than his wife. Compulsions: To paint. To paint, and paint, and paint some more. To ask their lovely wife to be the subject for their next piece, and to throw themselves into the completion of it. ⬡ Unaware they are doing harm with their painting, until it is complete. «« code @ efryndiel The Chateau ⬡ Common Cast Characters most likely to originate in The Chateau are The Aristocrat and The Valet ⬡ Literary Description "To all appearance it had been temporarily and very lately abandoned. We established ourselves in one of the smallest and least sumptuously furnished apartments. It lay in a remote turret of the building. Its decorations were rich, yet tattered and antique. Its walls were hung with tapestry and bedecked with manifold and multiform armorial trophies, together with an unusually great number of very spirited modern paintings in frames of rich golden arabesque." ⬡ For Your Exploration Characters may attempt to explore the Chateau, but it will be shrouded in darkness, and every room they enter will bring them back to the apartment chosen by The Valet. What decorations may be seen are dark and victorian in design, and the room and halls may be lit by candlelight. The Maiden's portrait is on the wall, and will initially be cloaked in shadow for The Aristocrat to find. It appears remarkably lifelike, almost as though it is a window instead of a portrait. The other paintings on the walls will contain figures that are almost familiar to The Aristocrat and The Valet - as though they could be someone they know, but only if they squint. There is no electricity. Characters will not have access to any powers. The Artist's Tower ⬡ Common Cast Characters most likely to originate in The Artist's Tower are The Maiden and The Painter ⬡ Literary Description "But she was humble and obedient, and sat meekly for many weeks in the dark, high turret-chamber where the light dripped upon the pale canvas only from overhead. But he, the painter, took glory in his work, which went on from hour to hour, and from day to day." ⬡ For Your Exploration Should characters leave the Painter's studio, they will immediately be transported outside, to a sprawling field of wildflowers. There won't seem to be anything else around, but there will be a light breeze and the sound of the sea in the distance. Inside the studio, the air is stale and musty, smelling of oil paints and turpentine. It's dim, lit only by a skylight. There is a stool for the subject and an easel with canvas sitting in the light, but everything else - art materials, more canvases, both empty and with the beginnings of paintings, and props - are all pushed to the sides of the room and cloaked in shadow. Like The Chateau, there is no electricity, and characters will not have access to their powers. The Library ⬡ Welcome! Free from their roles, through either death, completion of the Story, or from not being pulled into the tale in the first place, characters will find themselves in the gardens outside of the Library itself. As always, it will look and feel like a temperate, autumn afternoon. As this setting is part of the Library itself, characters will have full access to all their powers. ⬡ Grand Opening Coming Soon! The front door will, unfortunately, be locked, and a sign will be taped on the doors, detailing how the Library will be opening soon, but in the meantime to please enjoy the grounds and the pizza party in the courtyard. ⬡ Pizza party? Pizza party! In the courtyard, there will be tables set up that will be absolutely covered in stacks of paper plates, 2-liter bottles of any soda one could dream of, and stacks and stacks of pizza boxes, containing any flavor combination that could be desired. Opening a random box will provide a random, but popular, flavor. Opening a box with an Intent and a Desire for something specific will provide exactly that. Enjoy! It won't run out. navigation • premise • reserves • faq

Comments

[royalboar]

[With his knees pressed into the loam of the earth, wildflowers bent away from his form, there is little chance of him bringing himself back up to a standing position, not when the world is all a-tilt from delirium. But it grants Dimitri a fine angle to view the other from below, couched in the sunlight of the outdoors. He doesn’t know him—he’s certain his memory isn’t failing him on that account, but who knows when he’s lost track of the time in this place—but he thinks he has a striking intensity rather suited to those who take their art very seriously. The flower and its deep, blooming color looks better in his hands than pinched in Dimitri’s own.]

You would surround me in a floral arrangement with the sea’s waves at my back?

[He tries to imagine it — tries to think of his own countenance veiled in such fine and pretty things, and it sounds so much like a joke that he scoffs dimly. His middle throbs, dull and aching.]

Then you give this face more credit than it’s due.

[A faraway thought rises back to the forefront, never to be quashed no matter the narrative: he’s hardly worthy of such treatment.]

You might find yourself a better subject. The flowers, at least, are not adorned by oozing bandages.

[anbu]

[There appears little to indicate something is off in the surreality of their surroundings or within their conversation, though Itachi has spent his life learning the complexities of illusions and dismantling them as necessary. The fact is: it feels natural to be here in this place, with this man he doesn't know, discussing art. The question causes Itachi's gaze to drift over the meadow with narrow-eyed scrutiny. Idyllic and perfect, almost as flawless a subject as—

He frowns, fingers pinching the wildflower with enough pressure to cause its fragile stem to snap.]

You're injured. [A short, quiet statement as he lets the ruined flower flutter to the ground.] Return with me to my studio. I can find something to suit as bandages and replace your soiled dressing. Can you walk without difficulty?

[Even as he says this, Itachi feels his mind listing with distraction, still captured by the man's disposition. He would need a bright, sunny yellow for the hair, and a pale cream for the skin, and darker ink for the shadows of that expression... Itachi turns, looking expectantly back.]

[royalboar]

[For a moment, Dimitri’s gaze can only follow the flower as it topples neatly to the ground, its stem crushed under the misuse of two men. It seems a shame, and he cannot understand why this man would find him a far more interesting subject than something so bright and delicate — he, who is just wracked with a wound that keeps oozing, or a fever that won’t break, or a countenance that never cared for praise or flattery when he does not deserve it. But he seems to have made up his mind, and once again, fate will shackle him to the indoors — where eventually, he will find himself in bed, because those four walls mean nothing more than confinement when he would rather wander freely.

Nothing for it. He’s hardly in a state to argue, and his attempt to push himself up to his feet is proof of it; he succeeds but staggers forward, and only after barely managing to not crumple once more into the dirt—]

I may need— [A scoff. It hurts his insides.] —your assistance. You see? You have chosen a rather pathetic subject, have you not?

[anbu]

[The waver earns quick action. Itachi extends one hand, a deceptive strength in the pale fingers that curl like iron around the other man's arm to keep him upright. His state doesn't worry Itachi, nor does it cause him any unease; inexplicably, he finds himself prepared to face the wound without any aversion or disgust.

On the contrary—there is a separate, unique appeal to the suffering on the man's face. Creased with strain and lined with hidden agony, skin blanched paler for both. Itachi stares longer than necessary. It fascinates: something he would prefer to commit to the memory of canvas far more than the surrounding scenery, perhaps to the other man's expense.

Half-dragging Dimitri toward the Chateau's entrance, as it has suddenly appeared:] You are the one who sees yourself as pathetic. I don't share the sentiment. [Through the door, into the cool foyer, then into a sitting room—where he pushes Dimitri down onto a dusty chaise, manhandling with ease.] Is there a place for storage in this building? I need... supplies. [Art supplies? Or dressing for the injury? He doesn't say.]

[royalboar]

[For such a large frame, Itachi manhandles Dimitri as though he were made of straw. Moved from the outdoors to the indoors in what feels like the blink of an eye; the sunlight replaced by the warm color of antique wood and dusty furniture, one of which he finds himself planted upon as if he were a child. But no quarrel comes from him -- either the world spins a bit too harriedly or he's curious about this man and his innate desire to put something undesirable down on canvas, that he cannot bother to question it.]

Supplies...? Ah.

[He gestures down a long hall, where he's certain he saw an open door to a small studio not long ago in his wanderings.]

I am no painter, but I spied quite a mess that way. That is what all artists specialize in, isn’t it?