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thecapitol2014-04-13 12:32 pm
isthistheregion) wrote in thecapitol2014-04-13 12:32 pm
Entry tags:
Who walks among the famous living dead?
Who| The Creature and Open
What| Getting some culture
Where| The Capitol Art Museum
When| Now-ish
Warnings/Notes| Will update if necessary
He still goes out in disguise. It's part habit: being seen in the midst of large crowds of people is still enough to make his skin crawl. But the rest now comes from a new phenomenon that is no less unpleasant: he can be recognized. His face, and his gruesome death, were seen by the entire country.
He might have confined himself to his room interminably, if doing so did not make him unbearably restless after a day or two. So he goes out, with a hood pulled over his head even as the weather starts to warm. Even then, he's been recognized a few times: once, a group of girls shrieked and ran away giggling. It had confused him until he'd realized they hadn't been frightened after all. The terror he once inspired in people has, for some, been reduced to a joke.
When he does go out, the museum is often his destination. It's one of the few places in the city where he doesn't feel bombarded with stimuli. And the art is enjoyable to look at.
He's inspecting a sculpture: walking around it to get a view from all angles, crouching down to peer through the negative space. He focuses on those strings, wonders if they might be plucked like an instrument. He reaches out a hand.
"Don't touch the art--"
The Creature looks up at the stern face of a security guard, who immediately goes a bit pale as soon as he sees who he's talking to.
"--sir. Sorry, sir. Please don't touch the art."
He draws back his hand, watches as the man nods, seeming satisfied, and strides away.
At least some people still take him seriously.
What| Getting some culture
Where| The Capitol Art Museum
When| Now-ish
Warnings/Notes| Will update if necessary
He still goes out in disguise. It's part habit: being seen in the midst of large crowds of people is still enough to make his skin crawl. But the rest now comes from a new phenomenon that is no less unpleasant: he can be recognized. His face, and his gruesome death, were seen by the entire country.
He might have confined himself to his room interminably, if doing so did not make him unbearably restless after a day or two. So he goes out, with a hood pulled over his head even as the weather starts to warm. Even then, he's been recognized a few times: once, a group of girls shrieked and ran away giggling. It had confused him until he'd realized they hadn't been frightened after all. The terror he once inspired in people has, for some, been reduced to a joke.
When he does go out, the museum is often his destination. It's one of the few places in the city where he doesn't feel bombarded with stimuli. And the art is enjoyable to look at.
He's inspecting a sculpture: walking around it to get a view from all angles, crouching down to peer through the negative space. He focuses on those strings, wonders if they might be plucked like an instrument. He reaches out a hand.
"Don't touch the art--"
The Creature looks up at the stern face of a security guard, who immediately goes a bit pale as soon as he sees who he's talking to.
"--sir. Sorry, sir. Please don't touch the art."
He draws back his hand, watches as the man nods, seeming satisfied, and strides away.
At least some people still take him seriously.