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

[carnagecarnival]

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?

Comments

[carnagecarnival]

“GOOD. Because rest motherfucking assured he ain’t about to offer.” He wonders whether it’s truly an avoidance of cull attributed to her own skill, or whether the drones of the future were simply so poor in performance. Well, if he was to live to be Highblood, he’d certainly see to it that it wouldn’t be the latter.

“IF AVOIDANCE OF ASSUMPTION AND INQUISITIVENESS IN PAN ARE TO BE REASON ENOUGH, than it should then be reason enough to return samewise. AWARE PERCIEVING MAY BE DONE IN DIFFERENT WAYS. In different ways a ninja can be about making sense onto what lays around.” Like voodoo, seeping into the heads of approaching attackers. “BUT A MOTHERFUCKER WOULD GUESS SHE MEANS DIFFERENT. Or specific. HOW THEN DOES SHE PERCIEVE? If she would understand that it’s ‘worth asking’,” he says, echoing her. He swirls a claw in a bit of off-teal paint.

“AS FOR JEALOUS TEALS,” He scoffs. “I speak at to whomever the fuck I wish to. ANY MOTHERFUCKER WHAT GETS IN THE WAY SHALL BE REMOVED FROM IT.”

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi sniffs at the paint he's idly mucking about in. It might unnerve other trolls to know that under normal circumstances that would be a castemate's lifeblood--or her own, but she doesn't seem phased at all. She's too used to this bullshit to really care, but she has to wonder if he picked up that one on purpose.

"She ensconces herself in the flavors of the world around her, of course. Scent and taste and sound, as the dragons do. Each bit of color has its own scent, each person their own bouquet." She reaches over and swipes a bit of the off-teal paint on her finger.

"Even cool mint," she says, rubbing the hue between her finger and thumb," is a world of difference from fresh wintergreen." She flicks her finger against her own wrist with a dry sort of humor.