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]

[He would dispute that point if he knew. His dignity was tattered and shred to pieces years ago— wasn’t it? It’s hard to recall in this place, as though the story being woven has interlaced itself into his own memories, making an amalgamation of experiences that he isn’t quite sure belong to him any longer. Again, it all feels very much like a dream.]

I do not know. I cannot quite say…

[Dark hair, draw brows, a quirk of a smile just at the edge of the lips. Without the intrusion of an aristocratic role to muddy up recollection, maybe he would have recognized it more immediately.

For now, it only makes him frown more deeply and glance at his companion as though it was a puzzle to share.]

What a strange place. Why is every corner so dark?

[killful]

That would be the blood loss, my lord. You really should be resting.

[Yan Qing may be someone's caretaker, but that doesn't mean he's stopped being cheeky.]

I would've made it brighter earlier, but we don't exactly have enough candlesticks to do that. This apartment isn't the most modern of places, either. [There's the matter of electricity too, but he stops himself before he can comment on things that are neither here nor there.] I guess the shadows lend the paintings a little more mystery. I like the dark myself, but it's nowhere you should be for too long.

[He speaks from experience.]

[royalboar]

[Dimitri huffs indignantly, but it lacks any real heat of offense.]

Trying to urge me back into bed? Loyal as you are, you will have to work harder than that to make it so — especially after humoring me so far.

[Candlelight. Shadows for dramatic effect. Is that really an answer he can accept? He wonders, for doesn’t it only make this place seem more like a mausoleum than a living space?]

Perhaps I, too, thrive in the dark just as well as you. But since you have said you prefer it... why don’t you lead the way now?

[killful]

[ A heavy sigh escapes Yan Qing before he can hold it in. His own words, turned against him! The job was much easier with a duller master. Well, Yan Qing is an expert of martial arts. Part of him considers knocking his lord unconscious and dragging him back to his room. With the aristocrat in his current condition, it shouldn't be too hard. But what the aristocrat says intrigues him. What does a rich man know about the dark? ]

Ah, I have such a clever master. [ He's not trying to flatter him, though it often sounds like he is. They resume their tour. ] I can tell you're not too fond of this place, but I suppose that's why some appreciation of it is in order. You should see the painting at the end of the hall. It's the best one in the collection, I think. I wish I looked that real, myself!

[ After all, Yan Qing is very aware of the many circumstances he can't be. ]

[royalboar]

[Dimitri waves away the compliment with a dismissive free hand, a wobbly little motion that matches the steadiness of his gait.]

You are right, I do not like how unwelcoming these halls feel. But I feel drawn to them all the same, as though there is a mystery to unravel just around each corner.

[And thus, why it’s so damnably hard to get him back into bed. They walk, but Dimitri offers his valet a sidelong glance, hair still messily strewn across his forehead.]

You look real enough to me. Comparing yourself to oil paintings, now?

[killful]

Oh, no, no. If I were to compare anyone to a painting, sir, that would be you. Handsome and majestic, sophisticated and complex... [ Difficult and high-maintenance, but dealing with those types are all part of the job. Flattery, too. ] You have a bright future ahead of you — one that will paint you and write you a name you can bear with pride. That's nothing I can say of myself. I'm just the valet, hahaha.

[ Yan Qing tried to be someone once. He's still trying, but he doesn't think he's very good at it.

The stakes aren't so dire now. He glances at his master and chuckles when he meets his eye. ]

Ah, I'm such a poet. I don't know if I'm much of a detective, though. I suppose I'll have to be the Watson to your Sherlock now, sir.

[ After all, the fabled painting is just a few paces ahead. ]

[royalboar]

[The praise does more than just fall flat; it completely misses its mark, falling into the ears of a man who will reject such words without hesitation.]

I am none of those things. And do not belittle your own worth simply because of your station. That is—

[He remembers, in a flicker of memory, his discontent with those who would judge based on bloodline alone. On the weight that a name carried, a Crest imbued in one’s veins, even if he was born to be on the advantageous side of that line drawn in the sand. Wasn’t he? He’s certain of it, and if asked, he might be able to recall why— but he isn’t asked, and so he leaves it at that.]

—wrong to do so. I never cared much for titles.

[And a few paces ahead they go. Moments later, the painting in question falls into a halo of faint light, but it’s still enough to illuminate the artwork to them clearly: a portraiture so fine, so solemnly beautiful, so very detailed, that it seems impossible that it should exist at all. For a moment, Dimitri pauses, unsure if he should move closer, as though he’s stumbled across something secret, something precious in its uncommonness.

But then his bullheaded curiosity flares hotly in the next moment (again), and he practically drags his companion forward by the forearm.]

Look at this!

[killful]

Haha. You're too kind, sir.

[Yan Qing scorns more than his station, but that is nothing for Dimitri to hear. His employer is already saddled with regrets and responsibilities of his own. What is a man with no clan? A man who can't even do the one thing he owed anyone? In some ways, he is glad he is a valet now. Second chances are hard to come by. He should know. For his employer's generosity and respect, he is grateful, however difficult he is to please. One may call it simple decency, but for Yan Qing, decency has always been hard to find.

It's why Yan Qing tries too hard. This time, he goes along with Dimitri's whims, letting the aristocrat pull him along as he supports the man and pushes onward. He's afraid his master might fall, but he's afraid of losing his favor even more.]

Yes, sir. I see it. Please be careful...

[The candle brings the painting's details to light, giving it an almost ethereal glow against the darkness of the hall. Yan Qing didn't know much about paintings, but even he understood this was a portrait that one couldn't simply sell. For one, he doubted his master would part with it now.]

Beautiful, isn't it? Do you know who it is, sir? It's no one I recall, and I'd never forget a face you need to know.

[royalboar]

[In the bloom of the light, Dimitri feels as though he needs to lean further in, cast his gaze closer to take in the details of the portrait. It is familiar, strikingly so: a young man with pale, slender features, lavender hair, and gleaming eyes that are bright with the shadow of mischief. It is as though he might come alive and speak to Dimitri at any moment, and were it not for how the image surrounded by a finely-crafted wooden frame, he would think he'd be staring at flesh and blood.]

Yes... I do know him.

[But it is so hard to recall. From where? Somewhere he should know, intimately and without hesitation, and yet hesitation still blurs the edges of memory and turns it thick, viscous.]

A man from home. I think so... How is that possible? How is he here?

[killful]

[Yan Qing tries to recall what home could possibly mean. Could his employer be referring to an estate in the country? A mansion cities away? The longer he dwells on it, the further he feels the memory slip from his mind's grasp. In the back of his mind lingers a thought of escape, too. But from where? From what? He thinks they both have places to be, perhaps a tundra or a mountain in the wandering sea, but where else could he need to go?

He's just the valet.

But his master said otherwise, so it makes him try harder.]

Hahaha. Perhaps you commissioned it in a moment of weakness, sir.

[He should stop teasing, but he really can't help it. The man in the painting has his charms. Yan Qing thinks he's stolen many hearts. His sort always does.

Yan Qing doesn't trust it. Not for his master.]

Perhaps you admire him.

[Because Yan Qing doesn't. Not when he's reminded of himself.

But if this man reminds his employer of "home", then...]

We can visit him in the morning, if you like.