thecapitol | [OPEN] Oh, I will sleep when we reach shore

Who| The Initiate & OPEN

What| The Initiate gets inspired and paints something new

Where| The Training Center once more

When| Any time this week

Warnings| Really foul language and the Initiate being a terrible person forever

He's been there since early evening, and seemingly hasn't left even now that it's mid-day. He'd been there long before anyone else had arrived at least, and more than ever before, with almost feverish intensity, he's been focused on painting the wall, using the paints he's nabbed from the camouflage area.

The painting goes high as he can reach and stretches wide across the wall. At the end he now works, four dark poles rise up and curve over the color, with ribbons of all sorts of hues wrapping and falling around each like a maypole, weaving itself into tents that bleed into near inscrutable designs of death and demons below. At each pole end, red and blue lights twist together in union, and on the forth a loose band of wider yellow spreads and breaks off into light yellow bubbles, and as they reach on, into skulls of varying color; greens and blues and purples, reds and browns. Circus imagery is woven in with a priest's reverence. A shoreline of water makes appearance atop the yellow band, a simple handprint smear of white in the sea with a mark of Purple-Indigo atop that, dripping down onto the yellow and making like to rot. In the darkness, the bit of sea, a star of swallowing pink twists. Then, above even that, a looming pair of bright eyed figures with knives for teeth observe the scene below. Beasts and trolls, colors and shapes make up the picture. The entire image is a mess of rainbow that still manages to make itself look unnerving. There isn't a logic or sense to it, it's entirely a painting made from madness.

As he prefers it.

Coming into the Center, it would be hard not to notice it. Perhaps, depending on who you were, it would be just as hard to ignore. Certainly there was much to look at. Even the Initiate himself seemed to be covered in color up to his arms and then some. But rainbows couldn't be that scary. Could they?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She looked at the paint suspiciously, she had never really seen it before, though she had seen paintings in a few of the richer houses she had had jobs in. She dipped a finger in the paint experimentally wrinkling her nose at the feel of it. She sniffed at it and wrinkled her nose again and then with a look at the Initiate to check it was alright she made a purple swirl on the wall.

The Initate grins in what could be seen as encouraging- and like he's acomplished some feat. "AND NINJETTE NAMELESS PREACHES FIRST TRUTH OF WICKED PICTURES. This wall is hers to mark as she up and motherfucking pleases. AS BEFITTING OF ANY TRUE MOTHERFUCKER MOST WORTHY AND HARDCORE," He says. He gestures at the paints around him, to indicate she may take what she wishes.

"Nameless sister, he sees a Messiahs blessing unto you. GOT TRACE OF THE VERITABLE FUCKING MINSTREL SONG SUNG IN YOUR STEPS. Could be of a chosen flock she could. CIRCUS. Indigo. THESE THINGS SHE COULD UP AND BE. Already worthy; would only need at to choose."

She grinned and grabbed some more paint, dipping her finger in that as well. She began adding swirls to the wall listening to him talk. She had mostly no idea what he was talking about but she liked the idea of being worthy. "What would I need to be doing?"

"ONLY AT WHAT IS ALREADY KNOWN, NAMELESS," he replies, pleased with her curiosity and eagerness. He too paints while he speaks, mirroring her swirls some. "She follows at what her pumper already up and motherfucking knows true. AND LET NO ONE STEER HER FROM WHAT IS MOST HOLY. Mirthful Messiahs be praised, Minstrels lauded, miracles give blessing. AND TO HER OWN SELF REMAIN MOST LOYAL OF MOTHERFUCKING WAY." He pauses, his lips quirking higher.

"Perhaps a she could even take to the paint," he says, giving gesture to his own painted face. "If she so up and wished."

Painting was fun, she dipped her hand in another colour, making a hand print and grinning again.

"That do be being paint too?" She had just assumed it was part of his face, aliens looked strange to her. She looked at the paint on her hand and then dotted some on the end of her nose.

"ALREADY A REGULAR CHUCKLEFUCK SHE UP AND IS," He laughs. "With a nose to her too." On the floor he draws a clown face, two dots, a circle, the a smile. :o)

"THAT IT UP AND IS, SISTER," he goes on. "Each wicked jester gets at their own face what to lay motherfucking claim, more even than that of a hatch symbol. AT ONCE IT ALL GETS TO SHOW WHO A MOTHERFUCKER IS, THE CAPRICIOUS CARNIVAL LAWS FOR WHICH THEY STAND, and that not a single perfidious pustule what denies should not fucking fear you. IN CASE THE MOTHERFUCKER WAS TO STUPID ON TO GET REALISING BEFORE." He gives her a fond, amused glance. "It is common practice at to use paint of a different nature up on a motherfucker's face but what all suits a ninja's whimsy is being that. LEST, she wishes assistance in holy act."

She grinned at the face and tried to follow what he was telling her. The paint would show people who she was, and what she believed in. It was a difficult concept for her, as she didn't really know who she was, at least in no way to paint it.

"Different paint?" She asked instead, since the first part was a lot of things she needed to think about and this seemed more practical.

"YES," he says, then reaches under the collar of his shirt to produce a small vial attached to a thread around his neck, something he'd found whilst going about the Capitol the day prior. It was to be his token for the arena, filled with greasepaint so that even then, he wouldn't be without his face. He gets some out, just a small bit of white.

"Made for the skin and to stay. THE REGULAR CRUSTS AND CRUMBLES. This kind don't. FIRST CHOICE AT FOR ANY WHAT HOLD TO THE SCRIPTURE. Though not only," he chuckles, again giving glance to the dot of red on her nose. "Does she wish to try?"

She peered at it, that was paint for skin? That didn't crumble. She wrinkled her nose, understanding the unspoken offer. "You do no be having lots of it."

Murderer and thief she might be but she didn't want to use something important to him that he didn't have much of.

And whoever said there was no honor among thieves?

"HE HAS AT MORE IN THE HIVEBLOCK THEY'VE GIVEN. Can always find himself more what to replace," he assures, then shrugs. "CHOICE LAYS WITH SHE. But far motherfucking be it of a future preacher to let at one with understandings of the miracles what get on the fuck about, be denied what is their right and MOTHERFUCKING DUE because he was only to keep the wicked mark means to himself."

The unscrewed vial is close but held loose, just as prepared to be returned as surrendered temporarily to her. He waits curious for what she might choose.

She wrinkled her nose again, thinking. And then reached out for the vial, "Can I be trying some?"

"THAT SHE UP AND MOTHERFUCKING MAY," he says, then passes it over. "Take what is needed. DON'T LAY EXCOGITATION TOO HEAVY. Ain't about that. WICKED WORKINGS WILL GUIDE PAW AND CLAW. Merely giving image unto vision what is known already."

She grinned and dipped her finger into the paint, it felt different than the paint she had been using on the walls, and she rubbed it between her fingers for a moment and then painted a stripe down her nose.

He watches, fondness and approval entirely undisguised. He would consider offering to do it for her, but he trusts her to be in touch with the Messiahs’ wills. He wants to see what they offer her first, even if it is something so simple as a stripe down the nose leading to a red dot.

She’s an Indigo, regardless what blood she bleeds. Better— not like those impudent fuckers that he knew once, not like those that weren’t truly of faith— she was of proper feeling toward that what was righteous; she’s of his kind, of the goat.

He waits for her to continue on or to return the paint vial to him.

She did so, handing it back with a small smile. "I do be thanking you." She reached up to touch her nose again.

[OPEN] Oh, I will sleep when we reach shore

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