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

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[acquaint]

You have.

[ he doesn't remember why, exactly, it was so important. but perhaps that doesn't matter—it's important to felix, and sylvain has always gone above and beyond for him in ways he never did for anyone else. and so he knows he'll lie here on this chaise for as long as it takes, even if a part of him wants nothing more than to take felix by the hand and take him out of this stuffy, stifling studio. ]

Come on, you've painted me numerous times by now. [ his voice drops an octave, looking up at felix through his lashes from where he lounges. ] And you've seen me naked just as many times, I'm sure you know every part of me intimately at this point.

[brothered]

[It's far from the first time Sylvain falls back on his wily ways—and it's far from the first time Felix ignores him completely, eyes lingering on him for the briefest moment before flicking back to his sketch. In a way, it's Sylvain's attractiveness that brought them to this point? His liveliness. Maybe some part of Felix envied the ease with which Sylvain breezed through so many things; now that same part of Felix wants to immortalize it, even if Sylvain is determined to make it difficult.]

Knowing you doesn't help. It means I... fill in what isn't really there.

[The difference between an idealized Sylvain and the true Sylvain is key? It doesn't matter that Felix can't recall the last time he actually touched Sylvain, outside of brief kisses and even briefer hugs; relying on memory alone would be disastrous, hence his muttered:]

I don't expect you to understand. I never have. [Art! His one true love!] I only expect you to stay still.

[acquaint]

[ there's a part of him that aches at that, even if he's not entirely sure why. maybe it's the fact that felix isn't even looking at him, all his attention focused on the canvas instead. he's always had it, though, even when they were growing up, and now he doesn't remember the last time they'd had a conversation outside of this cold and drafty tower. when was the last time felix actually looked at him, instead of through him, separate parts to be reassembled with charcoal on paper?

perhaps he'd taken it for granted. he hates the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth. ]

But I am here, Fe. [ look at me, he thinks. he hates how soft his voice sounds, vulnerable and open. ] I've always been right here.

[ he wants to stand, to get up and push that easel away. he wants to put himself in front of felix and cup his face, make him look at him as he is. but his limbs are heavy and his body won't listen, settling further into the chaise. ]

[brothered]

[Felix is back to sketching well before Sylvain speaks, determined to add a few more quick, rough details before he moves to mixing paints. It's his work that matters. His work. Even as Sylvain's voice sends something twisting within him, prompting him to shift in his seat, Felix presses his lips into a thin line and pushes past it. When he's finished with this piece...

...Well. If it's good enough—if it's perfect—he'll have all the time in the world to waste with Sylvain; now, however, as he finally sets his nub of charcoal down, all his time is devoted to this. The painting is what matters? His vision—which by all accounts is ruined, as he looks back over at Sylvain to find that he's shifted even further, but.]

Your face—

[It's pale? Too pale, some part of Felix warns, and yet—hmm. The paleness does not detract from Sylvain's beauty; it adds to it, making his eyes appear brighter, the hollows of his cheek appear deeper in the best possible way. He's lovely like this! Lovely, and as Felix imagines capturing this exact expression, Felix feels himself smile.]

You are here, [he murmurs, hurriedly reaching over for his many paints.] Stay here, Sylvain. Just like that.

[It takes so very long to mix paint. He needs to match each shade of Sylvain—and thus, by the time he begins dabbing the first bit of it on the canvas, the room is far, far colder. Felix pays it no mind; soon he's standing, moving this way and that as he lays down layer after layer of color.]

[acquaint]

[ he couldn't move even if he wanted to, he thinks. the cold has settled over him but he doesn't feel it anymore—he doesn't feel much of anything, really. the numbness has sunk deep into his muscles and his bones, weighing him down like bricks chained to his arms and legs, heavier than the armor he'd worn in another lifetime. everything feels so fuzzy, like he's stuffed with cotton. he's long since stopped looking at the pieces felix has completed, each one a catalogue of his slow deterioration over time: becoming thinner and more gaunt, the angles of his face more pronounced than they've been before, the dark circles around his eyes deepening with each new painting. he no longer recognizes himself, nor does he remember how he'd used to look. perhaps this is really who he is, some caricature of who he used to be, whittled down to... whatever this is. weak, frail and delicate; can't even stand to have the love of his life look at him.

he knows it's wrong. everything about it is wrong, down to the way each breath becomes more difficult to take as felix reaches for his paints. it makes him sick to his stomach with how wrong it is, but there—felix's smile, slowly and steadily blooming, light coming back into his eyes, and how can he refuse that? felix has always been his weakness. wherever felix goes, he's always followed.

so he remains still as told, swallows down the rest of whatever he wanted to say as felix becomes a flurry of motion. the chill no longer bothers him, and each breath becomes slower with every second that passes. something loosens in his chest as he watches felix, sees that spark of inspiration that had been missing for some time and knowing he's the cause of it. at least he had made him happy, if for a moment. and at the very least, that is enough. ]

Show me when you're done, [ he murmurs, just to keep himself awake. he hates seeing it, but he can put that aside for felix, can't he? ] You promised.