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TP - WEEK ONE CURFEW - OH GOD NOT THE CHURCH
free for all style unless otherwise marked, have fun
free for all style unless otherwise marked, have fun
free for all style unless otherwise marked, have fun
free for all style unless otherwise marked, have fun
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[:)]
Maybe we can figure out some of these mysterious images all over the walls while we're stuck here, as well.
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Must we?
[ He finds those to be pretty obnoxious, actually, mostly due to how the ones he could attribute to himself only show one silhouette that actually looks like how he currently appears. ]
I doubt they'll make much sense with how they're painted.
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I know there's a few I recognize, though I wouldn't call them happy stories.
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How good of a storyteller are you, Fandaniel?
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[ Well, they are stuck here. ]
Very well. If you can identify any of mine, I shall tell you the tale behind it.
[ ...and he will no doubt demand the same from Solomon later (unless they all black out before then, oops). Then, let the guessing begin! Three paintings that cannot be easily attributed to anyone else in the chapel adorn the wall in a row:
The first is of tall, slender, berobed silhouettes cowering amongst a beautiful yet burning city, stars falling from the sky above them.
After that, a silhouette with a large feathered cap and a cape, as illustriously dressed as the limited shape and palette can manage, gazing down upon yet another ruined city. Once more, stars... falling...
And finally, three silhouettes standing on the edge of a... cliff, perhaps? Beyond them, a world hanging in inky blackness, surrounded by stars. To the left, a slender figure whose stand displays shock, surprise, and to the right, a towering figure with a scythe, and at the center? A man in a tattered robe, arms wide, standing at the very edge of the supposed cliff.
None of these figures are similarly shaped across the paintings. None look quite like Fandaniel, either, considering he has not yet worn his original robe outside the dorm as of yet. ]
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He incorrectly guesses a couple, to however much distasteful sneering Fandaniel may want to provide. Boooo, booooooooo. But his third guess has him pointing towards the first image.]
I promise, this will be my last attempt.
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... [ Sir? ] Are you still merely guessing at random or do you actually believe that refers to me?
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[hee hee hee hee hee]
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That, you nosy little man-- [ Which is funny since Fandaniel is much shorter. ] --is the end of the world.
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That does, indeed, shut him up tight for a good few moments, expression growing thoughtful and distant as his eyes trace back up to the imagery. The sky falling like so many distant stars. How frightening a sight, to the normal man.]
Your world? Or one you only knew of?
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But who's to say if that's what you truly mean? You do seem to like your mysteries.
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[ Meaning Solomon will not get the following story. Rest in pieces, old man.
Fandaniel steps closer to the painting, attention turned towards it and away from Solomon. He reaches up, running his gloved fingers over the figures, slowly, ponderously. ]
Before the world I know now, there was one before it. The same, yet not. A paradise where mankind could live for as long as they wished to. They played endlessly with their creation magics, making the most fantastic constructs and creatures, ensuring only those that suited the world they wished to see were allowed to be integrated into the wild.
It was perfect, or so my fellows would tell you.
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...]
Man playing god by the blessing of one? Or in the absence of it?
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[Even if the explanation isn't based in pure truth. Even if they have to craft their world around ideals and stories and legends of things that never existed.]
I take it something tipped a balance to a different sort of change...?
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An apocalypse of sorts, then. But not from a god? [How terrifying.]
Was it named truthfully? Did that turn into their end?
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The first image is such a deep blue that it almost turns to black, darker and darker as the image works its way down. There is no life breaking up the image, no other color. Only small blue lights that dance at the very top, and the figure at the very bottom, a silhouette barely seen, chained to the rocks.
The second image shows the icon of a sun, sitting amidst the ruins of what used to be a town. Buildings smoke, the silhouettes of bodies lay in the stone. The cliffs in the distance crumble into the sea, and the sky chokes with ash. The sun is bright.
The third image shows the deep purples and reds of a sunless sky, the shape of a massive castle far in the distance obscured in shadow. The hills lay littered with bodies and weapons. And even so, the majority of the image has been taken over by an enormous field of flowers that seems to stretch out like a drop of brilliant, iridescent ink in the grooves of the land, among the fallen soldiers, all radiating from a single point.]
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He isn't particularly fond of flowers, and yet, that one still draws him the most. ]
This one.
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"Victory Day" is what the demons call that image. A hope for peace and prosperity even during time of disagreement.
It's said to be bad luck to talk to any magic user from the human realm on the day of its celebration.
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[ Fandaniel would think that talking to Solomon any day at all would be bad luck, but you know. ]
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