Maya Hart (
finewithhalf) wrote in
entrancelogs2016-08-01 12:41 am
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I took all of my art off of the refrigerator.
Who: Maya Hart and you, perhaps? [Open to everyone. COME AT ME.]
Where: Moving around the hallways, eventually at the Entrance Hall
When: 8/1, all day
Rating: Probably G, maybe up to TV14 if things escalate.
Summary: Bored teenager is playing with spray paint. Where it goes from there depends on how your character feels about that.
The Story:
[Maya Hart has been a resident of Wonderland for almost a whole month. And in that month, next to nothing has happened. There's been some exploration, sure. But the rumors of Wonderland being full of Wonder have been greatly exaggerated. It's been like a long summer vacation. Normally that would be fine, but it's left a lot of idle time wide open. Idle time is time to be bored. And there's really only one way to stop being bored.
Just before the sun comes up, Maya will be making her way down the halls with full armloads of spray paint. She takes multiple trips from the fourth floor to the entrance hall, setting up a collection of cans and supplies in the foyer. And then, with a telltale rattle, she begins work on the side of the broad marble, tagging liberally.
And maybe that's when someone interrupts her, or moralizes at her, or tells her that she's doing a bad, bad thing. Maybe the interruption costs her an hour or so. But she'll be back eventually, and pick up wherever she left off.
It might take some time. She might have to sneak back at midnight or later. But but eventually, she'll finish her piece. Art can't stay inside an artist, and that pattern of shapes and colors needed to be released, regardless of who it bothered.
Enjoy your new mural, Wonderland.]
{{OOC: Feel free to interrupt Maya at any point in the process! Tell her she's doing a bad, bad thing, or goad her on. She'll gladly accept help if anyone wants to offer it.}}
Where: Moving around the hallways, eventually at the Entrance Hall
When: 8/1, all day
Rating: Probably G, maybe up to TV14 if things escalate.
Summary: Bored teenager is playing with spray paint. Where it goes from there depends on how your character feels about that.
The Story:
[Maya Hart has been a resident of Wonderland for almost a whole month. And in that month, next to nothing has happened. There's been some exploration, sure. But the rumors of Wonderland being full of Wonder have been greatly exaggerated. It's been like a long summer vacation. Normally that would be fine, but it's left a lot of idle time wide open. Idle time is time to be bored. And there's really only one way to stop being bored.
Just before the sun comes up, Maya will be making her way down the halls with full armloads of spray paint. She takes multiple trips from the fourth floor to the entrance hall, setting up a collection of cans and supplies in the foyer. And then, with a telltale rattle, she begins work on the side of the broad marble, tagging liberally.
And maybe that's when someone interrupts her, or moralizes at her, or tells her that she's doing a bad, bad thing. Maybe the interruption costs her an hour or so. But she'll be back eventually, and pick up wherever she left off.
It might take some time. She might have to sneak back at midnight or later. But but eventually, she'll finish her piece. Art can't stay inside an artist, and that pattern of shapes and colors needed to be released, regardless of who it bothered.
Enjoy your new mural, Wonderland.]
{{OOC: Feel free to interrupt Maya at any point in the process! Tell her she's doing a bad, bad thing, or goad her on. She'll gladly accept help if anyone wants to offer it.}}
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Finally he speaks up, but only as Maya seems to be taking a break, stepping back to look her work over.]
You've a good eye.
[He knows art. Mostly from and for stealing it.]
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What the heck, Lenny?? You can't just sneak up on people like that.
[HMPH HMPH HARRUMPH.]
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Heck? Adorable.]
Seems like I can.
Tell me about this.
[He indicates her art, waiting to hear whatever she has to say about it.]
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There's not a lot to tell you about. I just paint what I need to paint.
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[That said he leans back, one leg pulled up so he can rest his arm on his knee, looking at the wall in silence and mostly ignoring her sulking.]
Need to get it out?
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[That's a lie. There's always subtext. She's just too busy watching him watch her art to say more than that.]
I don't know. Maybe. I'm not doing anything like real artists do. They've all got stuff they want to say.
[There's a reason "what does it mean?" is always the first question. She's positive that she's doing it wrong somehow.]
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[There they are, him sitting on the floor, her sulking in his general direction and they are discussing art theory.]
I'm no expert on you, but from what I glimpsed so far... You? You always got something to say.
[He produces a packet of gum from his pocket, holding it out to Maya.]
Want some?
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She takes the gum with a snatching gesture, careful as a wild animal being approached with a steak.]
I don't think that's right. Real art has... It's got this passion, you know? It's got someone reaching down in their soul and sharing something important.
Not everyone's got something important to give.
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He notes the way she moves and he wonders.]
Who does it have to be important to? The person looking at it or the person creating?
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[It's a challenging conversation to have.]
It's expression. And if you're not expressing anything, then it's just. There.
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[Challenging, but Len isn't in the habit of talking down to anyone, just as he doesn't censor his words. As she'd know, having heard a bit of the prison background already.]
It means something. You felt driven to it. I get it when I look at it. Art. Now you just gotta frame it in a museum and get some snotty asshole to think it's important and suddenly it'd be worth billions.
But that's politics, the price says nothing. This says enough as is.
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Hope Len is okay with crying kids.]
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All right, it might be best to offer to hold her or whatever, but that ain't really him.]
If we weren't stuck in Wonderland, I'd make sure you got stuff at a museum, just so I could steal it.
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[The words are buried in a whining moan, and she closes the distance between them, sobbing into his shoulder. She doesn't ask if he's into hugs; this is happening whether or not he wants it.]
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See, the problem with crying child? He can't just punch her for touching him.]
That they want to steal it? You clearly need more kleptomaniac friends.
[Maybe he can just pretend this isn't happening.
And maybe he can slowly lift his hand and pat her back. Just for a moment.]
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It isn't long before she pulls away on in her own, wiping her reddened eyes and clearing her throat.]
Um. So. Thanks I guess.
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[And he could tell her that he's not the touchy-feely type, but for some reason he doesn't. She has needed that, he can tell that, and he's reading her the best he can. If he has to be a bit touchy-feely for this, he can put up with that.]
You keep doing what you want. Seems to be working for you.
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So. That means a lot.
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[He tilts his head to the side, absently picking on the fabric of his shirt with one hand, twisting it between his fingers.]
I mean, the same was true of me at your age, but I wanted to steal whatever the hell I wanted and get away with it, yours seems kinda harmless.
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I don't think your stuff is all that terrible. People don't appreciate what they have sometimes. They don't even miss it when it's gone.
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[He glances at her from the side, then pats himself down until he finds a pack of cards he pulls out of the inner pocket of his coat. There is also a quick glance of the gun he carries in a holster hidden under said coat, in case she pays close attention.]
You play?
[He's already shuffling the cards, watching his fingers.]
I've done awful stuff, Maya. I ain't gonna deny that. Anything you'd wanna deny?
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It's reassuring in a lot of ways.]
I've been known to handle a hand or two. What's your game?
[The metal catches the light and Maya's attention both, but she doesn't comment on it just yet.]
Denying stuff is kind of cheating, don't you think? It's not like any of it can go away just because you want it to.
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[He says, as he's passing out cards to them.]
Five card draw. Need to exchange any?
[He glances down at his own cards, then quickly exchanges two of them while waiting for her to make up her mind.]
So. Tell me your awful, I'll tell you mine.
[...maybe a bit censored.]
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What, like the time I tried to start a homework uprising? I set some assignments on fire. Got pretty far with it, until the sprinklers went off.
[It's really hard to keep a mob focused when they're being rained on.]
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But teenagers generally don't take well to their actions being called adorable and so Leonard schools his face and just hands out the two cards to her, his hands moving quickly.]
Did it do any good or did you at least get into big trouble?
[How can he actually tell her his in comparison to this?]
I took off in my principal's car once.
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