can't find the secret to survive // kiah

Gavin
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last seen May 23, 2020 23:44:35 GMT -5

can't find the secret to survive // kiah May 16, 2020 20:46:30 GMT -5

Post by Gavin on May 16, 2020 20:46:30 GMT -5

SEREN WARFIELD

By all accounts, I shouldn't be out this late.
Not strictly because of the curfew, even if it's a little because of the curfew - the last thing I need is getting sent to the detention center. I spend more than enough time alone with my thoughts as it is. But I don't have a reason to be out at all except for lack of any sense of self-preservation. Or, more accurately, ignoring my sense of self-preservation. The purpose? I don't have one. The destination? I don't have one. I'm outside because I don't have anything else to be doing.
Pathetic, yes? Motives aren't the issue right now, though. The issue is the Peacekeeper up my ass. They've gotten a hell of a lot more persistent since the curfew started, and I'm still not used to it. I need to adjust my methods.
Whether he'd seen me or only heard me, I don't know. I've crossed what has to be half a dozen blocks, and he's still behind me. This is dangerous. This isn't working.

Time to improvise, then.
There's a building with the lights on. I don't have time to figure out what it is, or who is in there, or what exactly I'm going to do - just a split second. Make a decision.
And hope the door isn't locked.
I dart across the street, fingers closing around the doorknob. For a second, it sticks, and my heart is in my throat. I didn't know I was still capable of feeling fear like this. Maybe that self-preservation isn't so broken after all.
But the door opens, and I duck inside so fast that I barely fit through before slamming it behind me. My fingers find the lock, which might be presumptuous, but I'm willing to take that chance.
Okay. Back to the door. Peacekeeper outside. This is fine.

I have time for an actual look around now. The place isn't terribly busy, which is a good thing. There's art supplies everywhere. Paint. Canvas. Charcoal. It seems to be empty, at least, of humans - save one.
It couldn't be too easy, could it?
His hair is long, his eyes dark - and the look in them says, at the very least, he's not about to punch me in the face. Probably a good thing. I wouldn't normally mind that so much, but I've had my fill of adrenaline for the night already.
He is pretty, I note. There are certainly worse people I could be stuck with.
I offer my most charming grin. It's going to take a lot more than that, but it's a start, at the very least.
"I know what you're thinking," I say wryly, still a little out of breath. "Who the fuck is this asshole?" As far as introductions go, I've certainly made worse.
Made better, too, but I'm cutting myself a break due to the circumstances.
"I'm Seren," I offer, self-deprecation replaced with sincerity for the moment. "And if you let me keep this door locked right now, I'm going to owe you one."

547 WORDS
millstone - eisley LYRICS

erika CREDIT

they were kids that i once knew [gav's characters]
you wolf-boy, you war machine

k!ah
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can't find the secret to survive // kiah May 18, 2020 5:15:14 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on May 18, 2020 5:15:14 GMT -5

MAGNUS COSTELLO

The piece came to life before him, the colours rather dark except for the sudden burst of bright colours- reds, oranges and yellows. The story circulating about what was occurring in district six and eight were about some manufacturing issues... But if that was the why the sudden increase in the presence of the peacekeepers marching the streets. Or why the need to enforce a curfew upon the citizens of Panem. Magnus couldn't believe that such a simple issue such as production implications would require such a response. There had to be something more serious going on. He there had to be.

Another strike of orange. The colour cuts across a cluster of blacks and greys. A strike of yellow tucked close by, then red and suddenly there seems to be flames licking up the edge of the canvas. It eats away at the gloomy greys and blacks which create the image of a small town. It was being devoured by the fire that raged through its streets, destroying everything in its path.

Taking a step back, he admires his work with the eye of an artist. Splashes of paint climbs his arms, he had locked himself away in his studio for a few hours now. At first he was worried about the store, worried about being away for so long. But then he had remembered that for the last few years he had put the store before himself, before his goals and aspirations in the attempt to keep it afloat for his families sake- for their sake (his parents) even though the thought of them filled him with a wave of anger.

Not anymore. He had finally made the choice to put himself first.

Suddenly the door behind him creaked and he wasn't alone in the room. Turning, he is faced with a grinning boy, who had to be around his age. His hair is dark like Magnus's, but unlike his it is cropped short around his face. "I know what you're thinking. 'Who the fuck is this asshole?'" Well, he's not wrong, he thinks as he places his paint pallet on the small table beside him. He calls himself Seren in his next words and asks if Magnus would keep the door locked behind him, claiming that the boy would owe him one if he was to oblige.

Interest starts to spark inside him, and he finds himself nodding to the boy, "I'll keep the door locked. But you must tell me why on earth you have broken into my studio at such a late time. You know the district is in lock down, right?" Magnus makes a pointed look around himself, around at the arrangment of paintings that scattered the room, to the sketches in the corner, and the brushes that littered the floor, before returning his dark gaze to the boy before him. "There is not exactly a lot of value to steal here. Mostly just things of sentimental value."

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Gavin
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can't find the secret to survive // kiah May 19, 2020 2:53:50 GMT -5

Post by Gavin on May 19, 2020 2:53:50 GMT -5

SEREN WARFIELD

There's a crease to his brow, and a spark of interest in his eyes. He's more curious than hostile, which is a point in my favor. I can work with curious.
"Doesn't count as breaking in if the door wasn't locked," I point out automatically, even knowing it's not the smartest thing I could say. It's too ingrained in my nature to argue - I know when to turn it off, but actually doing so is another thing entirely. I exhale, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. "And I know about the lockdown, believe you me." If I didn't, I certainly wouldn't be here right now. Maybe home. Maybe a cell in the Detention Center. Difficult to say.

Tone down the ego, Seren. Turn down the snark. This isn't the time. For once in my life, I'm not looking for a fight.
"There is not exactly a lot of value to steal here. Mostly just things of sentimental value."
I follow his gaze around the room. He's right, of course. I can appreciate art, but these aren't exactly pieces with a high resale value. They're good, from what I can see, I'll admit that much - but artistic value alone doesn't get you much in Four.
"Lucky for both of us I'm not here to rob you, then." Thievery's not my usual brand of degeneracy, either. I've never hurt for money, and I know full well that makes me one of the lucky ones. Attention, yes. Attention, I can admit I'd kill for.
So this situation right here - a captive audience - suits me fine.

I eye the canvas he's currently working on. Arson has never been in my wheelhouse, but I admire the visual all the same. Destruction is destruction, really. What it's intended to represent I'm not qualified to say - but I am tempted to ask.
"You did all this?" I ask instead. Better to start with a less complex question. Better to build up a little of the goodwill I'm already gambling on. The answer seems obvious, but I'd rather be sure anyway. If I can get him talking about the art, I think my chances of being thrown back to the wolves - Peacekeepers - will get a little better.

I don't think he'd do it, even if I didn't ask, but I'm not willing to take that risk. If there's anything I've learned, it's that most people are bastards when given the chance. Myself included. Just because he seems polite enough so far doesn't mean it has to last. Trust is a currency, and I - for all my wariness - have still given it far too easily before. I'm careful, this time. I had a plan, however briefly thrown together. Better him than the wolves.
"You have a name?" I ask, evaluating his face a little more intently than I had before. I don't have much of a read on him yet. I need to get one. The fact that he's easy on the eyes is only a bonus.

500 WORDS
millstone - eisley LYRICS

erika CREDIT

they were kids that i once knew [gav's characters]
you wolf-boy, you war machine

k!ah
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can't find the secret to survive // kiah May 21, 2020 7:13:50 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on May 21, 2020 7:13:50 GMT -5

MAGNUS COSTELLO

"Lucky for both of us I'm not here to rob you, then." Magnus believed him too, maybe he was being too trusting, maybe he wasn't too concerned because he felt like if it came to it he could take him. Magnus hadn't put in a lot of dedicated hours to training in the past few years but he still new how to throw a punch. He often didn't find himself thinking about training. He remembered a time when training was an enormous part of his life. When he used to spar with his friends on a daily basis to see who was the strongest that day, the winner deciding the next life threatening dare that the rest of the group would have to take part in in the coming days. He remembered those days fondly. It has been a long time since he had taken part in silly games such as those.

It seems for the first time Seren takes a look around him. His eyes take in the paintings and sketches. He stops on the painting that he had been working on. Magnus turned his head to observe the piece once again and he felt a burst of pride being to blossom in his chest. This piece could evoke a handful of different emotions. Emotions that he desired. One of his best yet. He knew the piece was dark, but it had to be dark. He knew that it was destructive, but it had to be destructive otherwise the message wouldn't he was trying to convey would be hidden. And he believe he had achieved that. Achieved it, but not so clearly so that one might accuse him of something that could be destructive to himself.

"You did all this?" The question draws Magnus from his thoughts and he turns back to face the boy in front of him. Magnus loved his studio, he loved that he could let his creative juices flow, to create life around him. He loved that when he put pen to paper, or brush to canvas he could let go of everything that anchored him to this reality and escape into his imagination, into a new one where he could be anything.

"Yes. I'm quite proud of this piece behind me." He turns to face it again, his hand hovering above the canvas, paint still drying. "What do you think it says? When you look at it how does it make you feel?" Magnus knew what he felt, and he believed he knew what Seren would say. But yet another beauty about art was that one picture could have so many different interpretations. Different interpretation was something else about the art world that excited Magnus. Magnus was so eager to hear what he had to say that he almost forgot that he had asked his name.

"Magnus. Magnus Costello." He extends his hand between them, forgetting that one moment ago this boy had broken into his studio.

Gavin

Last Edit: May 22, 2020 21:50:09 GMT -5 by k!ah

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Gavin
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can't find the secret to survive // kiah May 22, 2020 22:49:25 GMT -5

Post by Gavin on May 22, 2020 22:49:25 GMT -5

SEREN WARFIELD

He looks like he believes me.
He should - I'm telling the truth for once - but I can't help but question how fast he'd bought in all the same. I should be grateful, but I'm stuck wondering how the hell someone makes it this many years in Four without having their trust broken yet. I don't believe he's completely unscarred - no one is - but surely it can't be this easy for him to accept my explanation.
I can feel him watching me as I evaluate the studio.
"Yes. I'm quite proud of this piece behind me."
It shows on his face - and it should. He has a right to be. His hand hovers over the paint, and it makes me curious about the texture of the surface. It looks still wet.
"What do you think it says? When you look at it how does it make you feel?"
If I'm going to be here, I suppose the least I can do is focus-group for him. I've certainly never shied away from saying what I think before.
I don't consider long before responding.
"Desperate," I say, eyes sliding from his face back to the painting. "Exhausted. Violent. Like I've been backed into a corner." That sounds more threatening than I'd intended. Shit. "But there's something kind of relieving about it, too, isn't there? Like a catharsis?" It might be more detail than he'd been looking for. It's more detail than I'd intended to provide, at any rate. I'm off my game.

I shrug apologetically, looking away entirely. "I do like it, though." Maybe this is a side effect of the fact I can't remember the last normal conversation I had. My family barely speaks to me these days, and almost everyone else I meet wants to punch me in the face.
To their credit, I do go out of my way to give the reason to. But the fact remains that I'm not used to being polite anymore. I'm not used to being halfway cordial. Having a reason somehow still doesn't make me feel any better.

"Magnus," he says. "Magnus Costello."
"Magnus," I repeat. "Good to know." My posture is open, unthreatening. It's not a natural stance for me. I'm fighting every instinct I have right now, but I'm trying. Fuck, am I trying. It's my own damned fault, really - can't blame anyone else this time, I'm the one that made me this way - but self-pity comes easily to me no matter how undeserved.
Magnus Costello. Hm. I can't say I recognize the name. It suits him well enough. And it makes things easier for me - everyone responds better when you use their name, that's just fact.
Like I wouldn't have asked anyway. My curiosity has been piqued already. I'd be asking questions even if it wasn't strategically advantageous. There's something strange about this boy and his art and I want to find out what, curfew aside. I wouldn't have come in without it - I can't deny that much - but I'm staying now anyway.
My shoulders relax, and I step further into the room, not straying too far from the door. I don't exactly need to hold it closed, but I want my exit route remaining open.
Just in case.

538 WORDS
millstone - eisley LYRICS

erika CREDIT

they were kids that i once knew [gav's characters]
you wolf-boy, you war machine

k!ah
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can't find the secret to survive // kiah May 28, 2020 21:19:57 GMT -5

Post by k!ah on May 28, 2020 21:19:57 GMT -5

MAGNUS COSTELLO

Magnus hadn't always been an artist. Once upon a time he would have laughed at the thought of picking up a pencil and putting it to paper. Why would he do such a useless thing like that? When he could be out of the streets, causing chaos, making a mess and being an absolute fucking terror. He used to mock the idea that someone who think him as someone being able to create something that provoked feelings. Thoughts. Arguments, even.

But that was a long time ago, and now he couldn't imagine his life without a pencil in hand. Or a brush tucked between his lean fingers, pressed against a canvas. He lived for it. He revelled in the chance to creating new life, new stores which could be told from a simple stroke. A new splash of ink, or of colour. Sometimes all it took was a new perspective.

Seren explains that emotions such as desperations and exhaustion swell within him when examining the piece. "Violent. Like I've been backed into a corner." Magnus cannot stop the smile that begins to form on his lips. It was perfect. Somehow he had managed to create a pice that expressed his feeling so clearly about the world, about what he assumed might be happening. Panem was not a world of rainbows and happiness. It was a place that trapped it citizens, that used cruelty to remind them that they were not free. That they never really would be free. They used the games to remind us that we will always be in danger. It was disgusting really, but the only world that Magnus knew.

He often wandered what it would have been like had he been born before the Great War. Before the rebellion.

Did the world really know peace?

Or was peace just a dream that would always and forever be out of grasp.

Another reality that never truly existed.

That was just made up in our imagination to help us come to the fact that we would always be fighting one another. That was just human nature.

The boy repeats his name, and Magnus watches with curiosity as he seems to force himself to relax. He is about so say something but the boy takes a step deeper into the room and Magnus decides not to pry him on it, instead asking him a different question, remembering that Seren had not quite answered his original question. "You still haven't answered my original question, you know. The one about you telling my why you broke into my studio. Oh wait, sorry the door was unlock so I guess it wasn't a 'break in' as such" Magnus says, using the boys smart ass comment from earlier. He watches the boy carefully. Yes the boy seemed harmless, but the district was in a volatile state at the moment, and he wanted to make sure that no rotten eggs find their way into his basket. "I'm going to need and answer, or I'm sorry, but I will have to ask you to leave."