Guy Crood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecapitol2014-04-15 04:41 am
acroodawakening) wrote in thecapitol2014-04-15 04:41 am
Entry tags:
A Day At the Museum
Who| Closed to Guy, Mindy, and Venus
What| A Day At the Museum and a Last Hurrah
Where| A capitol modern art museum
When| After the mini-arena, and after Azula burned him, before familyplot
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of violence/gore, death/defeatism, and it might get a little maudlin, but that's it.
Thanks to Capitol medical technology, burns that might have killed him back home had healed very, very quickly and with only a few scars. Definitely noticeable, but nothing hugely disfiguring, and probably temporary, given the Tributes were always restored to how they'd been when they'd first arrived after every arena they died in.
Provided he'd get revived at all or even live to the next arena. That was what was up in the air right now.
He'd messed up. He'd insulted someone he shouldn't have insulted, because of his sense of pride, because he'd been tired of being treated like some savage thing, because he'd made a stupid assumption and he knew the other boulder was going to drop eventually. Probably soon.
He'd messed up and it was going to hurt. He just didn't know how yet. Death might not be the worst possible thing - look at how he'd bitten Azula in the training center. She was wrong that he was savage as if that was his nature, because this place was the thing making him into one. Maybe it would be better to die than be twisted into something monstrous and unrecognizable.
But he suspected there were worse things that than killing him. He just didn't have the imagination - that kind of imagination - to have any idea what they could be. Or maybe he just didn't want to try to imagine because some of them involved his family and the very thought would have had him curled in the bundle of blankets he called a bed, unable to move or even be.
It wasn't time for that yet, though. There would be time to hate himself and his choices and his existence later. Right now, he wanted to move, and to be, and maybe even laugh if he could.
The fact that it was possibly going to be his last chance to do it was all the more reason to do it now. And right now he wanted to see some friendly faces while he did it, which was why he'd invited Mindy and Venus to come along.
So he waited in front of the museum for them, fingers playing with the bright red feathers that his stylists had fastened to his hair (insisting repeatedly they were "blood orange" every time he'd corrected them and said they were red). He'd taken advantage of the winter chill that hadn't quite abated to cover up, so the blue poncho that he had wrapped around his body helped hide most of the pinkish burn scars on his right arm. It was impossible to hide the one on his cheek, so he tried to simply pretend it wasn't there when Venus and Mindy walked up, as if everything was normal, as if it was just another day of trying to find the light in the dark.
"There you are," he babbled, bouncing up with the usual loping spring he had to his step he had. "How are two of my favorite ladies today? So, I was thinking we just go around the entire museum making fun of everything. Now I was going to make little puppets, since I feel like this is the kind of place where it might be better to spread all the insults out -" He gestured in a spreading motion "- but I couldn't find anything to use to cut up my clothes."
Haha, okay, so now they could just go, right? He stood there, looking at them expectantly, his expression giving the impression of a dog trying to coax its owner out for a walk before they noticed what it did to the houseplants in the bedroom when it was bored.
What| A Day At the Museum and a Last Hurrah
Where| A capitol modern art museum
When| After the mini-arena, and after Azula burned him, before familyplot
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of violence/gore, death/defeatism, and it might get a little maudlin, but that's it.
Thanks to Capitol medical technology, burns that might have killed him back home had healed very, very quickly and with only a few scars. Definitely noticeable, but nothing hugely disfiguring, and probably temporary, given the Tributes were always restored to how they'd been when they'd first arrived after every arena they died in.
Provided he'd get revived at all or even live to the next arena. That was what was up in the air right now.
He'd messed up. He'd insulted someone he shouldn't have insulted, because of his sense of pride, because he'd been tired of being treated like some savage thing, because he'd made a stupid assumption and he knew the other boulder was going to drop eventually. Probably soon.
He'd messed up and it was going to hurt. He just didn't know how yet. Death might not be the worst possible thing - look at how he'd bitten Azula in the training center. She was wrong that he was savage as if that was his nature, because this place was the thing making him into one. Maybe it would be better to die than be twisted into something monstrous and unrecognizable.
But he suspected there were worse things that than killing him. He just didn't have the imagination - that kind of imagination - to have any idea what they could be. Or maybe he just didn't want to try to imagine because some of them involved his family and the very thought would have had him curled in the bundle of blankets he called a bed, unable to move or even be.
It wasn't time for that yet, though. There would be time to hate himself and his choices and his existence later. Right now, he wanted to move, and to be, and maybe even laugh if he could.
The fact that it was possibly going to be his last chance to do it was all the more reason to do it now. And right now he wanted to see some friendly faces while he did it, which was why he'd invited Mindy and Venus to come along.
So he waited in front of the museum for them, fingers playing with the bright red feathers that his stylists had fastened to his hair (insisting repeatedly they were "blood orange" every time he'd corrected them and said they were red). He'd taken advantage of the winter chill that hadn't quite abated to cover up, so the blue poncho that he had wrapped around his body helped hide most of the pinkish burn scars on his right arm. It was impossible to hide the one on his cheek, so he tried to simply pretend it wasn't there when Venus and Mindy walked up, as if everything was normal, as if it was just another day of trying to find the light in the dark.
"There you are," he babbled, bouncing up with the usual loping spring he had to his step he had. "How are two of my favorite ladies today? So, I was thinking we just go around the entire museum making fun of everything. Now I was going to make little puppets, since I feel like this is the kind of place where it might be better to spread all the insults out -" He gestured in a spreading motion "- but I couldn't find anything to use to cut up my clothes."
Haha, okay, so now they could just go, right? He stood there, looking at them expectantly, his expression giving the impression of a dog trying to coax its owner out for a walk before they noticed what it did to the houseplants in the bedroom when it was bored.
no subject
Arriving there she was a little taken aback by the colors and the feathers in his hair. But this wasn't what stood out to her. No, she was all too used to getting scars and cuts, and she could see that Guy had gotten the tail end of that.
"Favorite ladies?" Mindy sounded amused, though she was very, very curious about the burns. "Now you're just buttering us up. What did you have in store today?"
no subject
So much for blood orange.
She looks over at Mindy, giving her a friendly nod of acknowledgement. "The art can't be that bad, can it?"
no subject
To show them exactly what they were making fun of, he pulled out a museum guide - he'd already snuck in to pick one up, and opened it to show a picture of a display of what seemed like a random bundle of coat hangers assembled together in the form of something that looked about as far from art as something could be.
"Oh, yes it can." He was grinning. "You know what we have back home? Different colored mud, ground up stones, and sometimes colors from mushing up plants. And we can do better than that. That is bad. That is so bad. And thus, mockable."
no subject
At the look at the art, she snickered. "Oh god. I think this is actually making me homesick. I would see awful bullshit art like this all the time. They're nowhere near as hilarious as the pretentious artists that make the stuff though!"
Ok, she was definitely up for this.
no subject
"If I'd ever actually taken a sex ed class, I'd probably say I've seen more penises than this. But I haven't." She doesn't say they don't actually look like that, do they? because she has seen one, but also because it'll make her look completely clueless. "I think there's a common theme going on here."
Hardly kid-friendly, but then again, Mindy did win a 'kill everyone' Arena.
no subject
It wasn't all phalluses. Some of it was a single line on a white canvas. Or ceramic statues of what looked like poop. Or a large boulder on a broken pane of glass.
Fun for the whole family!
He gestured for them to follow him in.
no subject
Here was a sculpture that embodied all types of red, and with the lone, small female figure squatting over it, it's message was unmistakable. The red was spaghetti sauce, melted crayon, even cinnamon chewed gum.
"Well. If puberty hadn't given me fucking nightmares before..."
no subject
"I hate to tell you, honey..." She twists her mouth to the side in a sympathetic expression. "At least it's not actual blood? I've heard of art where people paint with their. You knows. And that just seems smelly."
no subject
"I'm going to add that to the list of things I just didn't need or want to know."
What was wrong with modern people?
The next exhibit was a large canvas with blue paint smooshed on it in a seemingly random pattern. It had a plaque with a long description on it, that said:
Residue of an Experience
Artist: Corbinus Flamsteed
A dissonant piece created by the artist inviting three nude models to a dinner party to use their bodies as his tools for the canvas while a detuned piano played for exactly twenty minutes in the background. The artist's use of the human body punctuates the canvas like notation on sheet music, hauntingly resonant, marking the discordant tones that can no longer be heard and regrets that can't be undone or forgotten.
Guy hit the button next to the display to have an audio reading of the plaque play and when it was finished, he was silent for half a second, before snorting and practically erupting with raucous laughter.
"You know, I've been trying to understand the word 'pretentious' because we don't really have an equivalent back home?" Armin had taught it to him, along with lots of new vocabulary. "I think I get it now."
He nodded cheerfully. "It's a lot easier to learn with good examples."
no subject
Pretentious was one word for it. "Made up crap" was just as spot on.
"Venus's wall of dicks is sounding pretty good right now."
no subject
Venus watches in a mixture of horror and barely-contained snickering. She folds her hands over her stomach and straightens her face into her best camera-ready "at a media event for something horrible" expression.
"Well, I think it's cutting edge, don't you?" she says in an exaggeratedly peppy voice.
no subject
"I think it's simply to die for. Not that I know what that's actually like because I've lived a sheltered life." He effected a very silly-sounding laugh, "A-ha a-ha a-ha. In fact, I think that I'm going to have my shoes specifically designed with this magnificent pattern. It'll be trendy. I love trends, especially the ones where my hair looks like a nest for wild animals. A-ha a-ha a-ha."
He ended by touching his chest and then directing a delicate floppy-flip of his hands towards them.
no subject
Oh wait. Here was a new painting. It looked like several jellybeans fighting for dominance and then threw up on each other.
The title? "Making Love"
"Oh Christ, they can't be fucking serious about that title."
no subject
Venus whistles the riff to Careless Whisper and one of the security guards scowls at them. She hides her giggling behind her hand.
"Oh, my God. There's one called the Miracle of Childbirth." She grins conspiratorially at Mindy. "You brave enough for that one? I bet it's just like, a bunch of still lifes of eggs with penises drawn on them."
no subject
As for the exhibit, he said, "I don't know, though, Mindy, you might be a little too young for this." He quickly added, somewhat dramatically, "Being subjected to art this terrible. I'm not sure I really thought this through. You're so young. You have so much life ahead of you."
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"I live in NEW YORK. There's no limit to the trippy shit I see on a daily basis. you don;t have to worry, my cherry is popped."
She paused a moment. "It would take a LOT to get under my skin, guys."
no subject
They enter a large white room with white canvases hung up. All blank. Venus is about to suggest they may have walked into the wrong room when a pleasant female voice starts to speak over a PA system.
"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Sunday? Friday, Thursday, Monday..."
no subject
It was just.
There was no paint. It was blank. Completely blank.
He crouched down, bowed over.
"Gimme a minute," he said, voice squeaky as he tried to contain his laughter. "It's just -" He gasped. "It's just so appropriate."
He gasped. "Maybe it is art. It's empty and devoid of any substance."
Just like the Capitol. See, it was telling a story.
Holy CRAP guys I'm sorry
Then again, Mindy sighed. "Actually, thinking on the life of a Tribute? Maybe it IS strangely appropriate."
God knows the days could blur to her.
no subject
(And wasn't that far off from Hollywood, come to think of it...)
She goes over to the front of one of the canvases and poses. "What do you guys think? Do I make it better or worse?"
no subject
"Better, but to make it really art you'd need a line. A single line on your face."
He'd noticed some of the art here was just lines. A single line on a canvas, a dot.
"Nothing else, just a line."
no subject
Ok, maybe they were having more fun than she expected.
no subject
"Maybe it can be an imaginary lime. That's post-modern, right? Making the audience do all the work for you?"
no subject
Guy took Mindy's advice but instead of posing next to Venus, he stood on his hands next to her.
"Oh yes. Yes. It also needs an invisible line," he said, upside down. He added with fake pretentiousness, "Representing the airy nature of beauty and how easily it can be transparent to the average person."
He started walking on his hands into the next room, opting to be a little silly, briefly muttering, "...five, six...seven.." as part of his ongoing count of the male anatomy showing up on random pieces of art.
Then his jaw dropped and he almost fell on his face as he popped out of the handstand and stood upright again.
"Oh. Oh, would you look at that."
Waiting in the next room in the center of all the other art pieces and hanging paintings was a twenty-foot-tall ceramic sculpture of human excrement.
"I think it just - it really just speaks for itself, you know?"
If you don't get the reference I am angry;-D
"Wow Guy, you are definitely feeding me wonderful amazing words of bullshit! Woo me!" She even faked swooned...until they reached the next room.
Wow.
"Well. That's one big pile of shit."
Someone had to say it.