Author Topic: mom let me go to art school (prp azuhel)  (Read 489 times)

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Offline Leviathan

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mom let me go to art school (prp azuhel)
« on: July 24, 2017, 05:39:22 PM »
The concept of art was something that Leviathan had discovered relatively late in his life. The interest and motivation for it was only really catching up with him now, as he spent the afternoon hiding from the sun back home, staring at Azuhel's various pelts and bone collections. All carefully crafter and designed. Not one exactly like the other. They were all different, and interesting in their own ways. Leviathan felt a pang of jealousy as being able to do something like this.

Being a tank meant that many expected him to become a solider, a capable body. But the thought of constant regimes, every day the same as the last, drove him insane. He didn't care for constant, unchanging repetition. No, he avidly avoided it if he could. But this, every result was different, some better than others, but all results. His tail wagged lightly behind him as he inspected one and then another pelt, one neater than the other.

He imagined he could draw on them, or see if any of those water rocks were any good for this stuff. He was so deep in his thoughts, that the didn't hear the telltale clicking of claws against stone as someone approached. He jerked back into reality when he felt a presence behind him, and for once nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes wide like dumb little olives as he looked back.

"Grandmother." his voice didn't reveal the shock that his face did. "I'm sorry, I was inspecting... Your things." that sounded odd, even for him. "They're... Nice. Art can do a lot." it can mean a lot, lead a lot of people. Symbols and memories held a lot of power in any place, he thought.

Clearing his throat, Leviathan straightened out again, moving a little back in case the Red Dragon wanted him away from her crap.

"But who makes them?"

Being a Herald could only fill so much of his time.
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Offline Azuhel

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Re: mom let me go to art school (prp azuhel)
« Reply #1 on: September 04, 2017, 11:01:04 PM »
Leviathan thought it interesting to explore the depths of Azuhel’s various effects.

Azuhel thought it better to burry beneath them and slumber. So, when she felt some of the pelts shifting and bones tumbling it didn’t take long for Azuhel to rumble and grumble as she poked her snout out to have a sniff or two. She isn’t so naïve to think her collection—though vast—is safe from all greed or curiosity and yet, she is barely concerned by the current invasive grandchild shuffling about.

After all, she still—to her great irritation—shared a living space with Koko, who often rummaged around and took this and that from her hoard.

Leviathan, Azuhel drawled, her tone somewhat drowsy and thick with sleep-drenched accent. It’s fine.

She wouldn’t shoo him away, My things are yours.

So long as he obeyed.

So, she shook off the bundle of warmth she’d been cocooned in and soon rearranged herself to settle atop one of the pelts Levi wasn’t inspecting, so that she could hear him clearly and not be tempted by the call of dreams.

Art is... interesting, She’d tried her hand at it but wasn’t that great, to be fair. I’ve dabbled. But, yer brother, he’s rather good.

As for who made them, The Artificers of Alteron are a guild maintained on… art. Warsaw is one and he’s quickly mastering the subject, but art can do so much more than look appealing.

She glanced around the cathedral proper for a moment, in thought, I’ve seen humans do it. Art. Her muzzle wrinkled in disgust, she hated the creatures, Then they… took the… art and made shelters, human dens, like this one.

She sighed softly, something wistful. I want to take it all from them. Their… art, and give it to our wolves.

So, they could conquer with it.

Then with a slight wiggle she twisted about and began to dig in the pile, searching for something—

Ah, here.

What she’d remove from the pile would be a simple piece of parchment with crudely drawn faces on it—human faces, done by a human artist. She’d place it before her grandson, Grotesque as this is there is a certain beauty to it. It would be nice if we could keep records like this, drawings of our wolves to denote who is in our families, or to keep record of who was in what court.

She… enjoyed their discussions. It was nice to bounce ideas off him and cultivate his desire for more than the servitude he’d been born into.

It would be nice to record our history.

The history of their bloodlines.


Offline Leviathan

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Re: mom let me go to art school (prp azuhel)
« Reply #2 on: September 18, 2017, 09:11:27 PM »
Waking his grandmother was embarrassing, especially when he had to watch her rise from the pile of pelts that apparently covered her. Leviathan hummed, lowering his head and not moving when Azuhel told him it was fine to stay. The only show of anxiety was a black tongue that licked at his nose momentarily, and then a nod.

“My things are yours.”

To a limit, he guessed, but he nodded again, slowly lowering himself to lay on top of the pelts next to his grandmother, who felt even warmer than she usually was. Typically, he did not particularly enjoy the heat, but family was different, a close protective warmth that gave him something to follow, something to care about.

“Art is... interesting, I’ve dabbled. But, yer brother, he’s rather good."

Leviathan blinked, relaxing on top of of the comfy floor coverings. "He's good at many things." there was no bitterness in his voice, yet no real pride either. Maybe on the inside it was there, but his voice was merely factual. In truth, Warsaw was perhaps the only siblings he still got along with, the only one that kept his interest, and the only one that seemed to enjoy spending time with the strange black eyed teen.

“The Artificers of Alteron are a guild maintained on… art. Warsaw is one and he’s quickly mastering the subject, but art can do so much more than look appealing.” Warsaw seemed to dabble in everything just a tad bit earlier than Leviathan decides to himself, unintentionally following Warsaw's footsteps.

“I’ve seen humans do it. Art." whatever those were, "Then they… took the… art and made shelters, human dens, like this one.” Leviathan trailed his own eyes around the huge den. It was beautiful, much unlike the rest of the dens members found home in. It felt far more secure, regal, and yet... "It seems very... Extra." a choked out, struggling laugh left his throat at the words. "Humans are not this big, are they? But it's impressive." at the end, that's what mattered.

“I want to take it all from them. Their… art, and give it to our wolves.”

"Do it, then." what was she looking for, advice? Leviathan had never seen a human, never fought one. If she felt herself so powerful, his grandmother could and should take what power she had and take it all from them. "I'd like to see it happen, to take all the art away." he stared at one of the windows, wondering what else they could make. To take it all to themselves would be something. He wanted to live to see it.

While enraptured in his own mind, a parchment was dropped in front of him, startling him gently from his thoughts as he looked down. "It's... Useful. Humans are not so pretty though." they looked so naked and embarrassing, really. "Recording is... Nice. But you don't always have to put the truth on them." he mused, lowering his head to rest on the parchment of human faces. "You lie a lot, right? To get people in line, lies are useful. If they... Like art, they'll believe it. Maybe more than just... You. It's so easy to process." a risky thought, but blunt honesty as usual.

"I want to learn, to do this. To make art. I want to see what anyone would do for this, to be drawn in, represented." he looked up to the Red Dragon, sitting on her throne of pelts. "I want to be here." a glance to the ugly, human faces. They would look much better off with his own eyes on it, with his own signs. With so much promise, Leviathan would be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

"Maybe I can have Warsaw teach me. If my brother wants to." he would never beg, but he hoped his brother would be responsive to his request.
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