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- ImakuranSeasoned Member
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Re: Wooden Symphony
Sat Dec 10, 2016 11:57 am
Scrabbles
Sprache
Song: N/a STUFF - Artist: N/A STUFF - Words: N/A
Sprache's attention hadn't quite picked up just how condescendingly she was viewing him. He was still somewhat oblivious to a lot of the social cues that displayed discontentment and while he understood "threats" enough to know she wasn't especially happy with him, he didn't really see why beyond that whole light stick pointed at her face thing. Sprache didn't even detect the sarcasm laden in the whole house comment. He just assumed she was vocalizing her deductive reasoning and while that was a little confusing, maybe normal people do say that stuff out loud. He did not quite have a reason to believe she was being in any way derogatory because the only point of reference for social behavior was what he himself did. So if she was shooting for nuanced insults she was going to be found quite wanting unless she enjoyed Sprache not having a clue what she was saying, which sounds a bit like bullying really. Middle school anti-bullying programs must not have been attended, the jerk.
When they finally did reach Sprache's little cavernous abode, Sofia's first reaction was one that Sprache had never seen before. Wonderment. It wasn't by the visceral scenes of violence, no she seemed to not be bothered by that much at all and even seemed to enjoy it, which begged a few questions of their own. Sprache had no recollection of ever being complimented on something before. It was difficult to explain things that most people took for granted and as common knowledge to someone like Sprache, who simply did not understand the sentiment. Of course...the compliment was later punctuated by the fact that she called them paintings. Paintings were, by definition, involving paint. There were not enough berries in the world to create what he had the last couple days and they had pretty clearing been scraped out of the rock face with another rock. These were etchings, not paintings. A small look of discomfort came over his face at her words, whether she would know that he had been bothered by being complimented or the fact that she had no idea what a painting was would be left to mystery.
Sprache sat down on the elevated mass of foliage that he had been using to sleep on as the woman continued to sweep across the myriad of drawings that Sprache had made. He didn't know any more than she did what they were of, but he was, to a degree, relatively certain it wasn't in the past. At the same time, how else would it make any sense? Sprache had to memory, maybe these were memories. That made the most sense didn't it? At the same time though...Sprache just knew that this wasn't the past. There was not a better way to explain it...he just knew that wasn't it. Then the woman followed up her words and Sprache's innate snark just could no longer contain itself.
"Past, present or future are the three options, yes."
Sprache tilted his head at her next suggestion. It wasn't a bad one he supposed. A potential failure of a plan was still considerably better than no plan at all. Sprache got up off his "bed" and made his way over to the city that he would later learn was known as Chicago. Sprache walked past her and extended his hand toward to cave wall, his fingers brushing against the small grooves and trailing along the etchings that were scraped in to the cave face. Sprache closed his eyes ran his fingers down the picture before turning over his shoulder back to Sofia.
"This one...it feels the most...immediately important."
Sprache couldn't tell her exactly why it felt the most important. It was a nagging sensation, a pull on his consciousness. They should analyze this one first. There were two more cities buried further in to the cave, two more scenes of carnage and blood. They could view those later if she desired, but this one, Chicago, was the one most pertinent to her. It wasn't the one that was the most important to Sprache, the one that filled him with such an overwhelming and awe inspiring uneasiness...but Chicago was the one they had to deal with first. Indeed.
Sprache trailed his fingers up once again to a figure amidst the destruction. The creature was large, the size if not bigger than multiple buildings around them. It was a distinctly feminine shape, but not much was done to accentuate those traits, the portrayal was much more monstrous and intimidating than alluring. Sprache let his finger rest on her forehead, his hand reaching high above his head to make contact with it. This was one of the greater threats in the etchings and his images seemed to only emphasize this. The words that came out of his mouth next were equal parts frightened and hopeful, scared and desperate. He wanted more than anything to know what he was drawing and why he was drawing it. He wanted answers, he wanted some sense of security in a life that clearly did not have any of it. He didn't know the woman much, but any chance he had that he could be given that sense of security and calm, he was going to take it.
"Do you...do you know who this giant is? Where this is? Why I'm drawing these?"
Coding By: [THEFROST]
- Cooking SprayExperienced Member
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Re: Wooden Symphony
Wed Dec 14, 2016 10:01 pm
[PLAY POSTING MUSIC]
THE QUINCY PRODIGY
Artist: N/A - Song: N/A
He seemed to display a puzzled look when she called the art before her paintings. Perhaps she had used the wrong terminology but he was in no position to even think in an ill manner of her word choice. For someone that was so clueless of almost everything, it was strange that he actually even knew what a painting involved, let alone what paint in it of itself actually was. A violin was unknown, as was music and the concept of it, but paintings, and paint in general as a tool seemed to be perfectly understood by the strange man. Whatever kind of amnesia he had was very opportune and carefully crafted, almost as if he had chosen what things he could and couldn’t remember, regardless of whether it made any sense at all or not.
She would not dwell on his expression, and instead chose to ignore it, and move on. When he moved to one of the paintings, Sofia was able to close in and focus more on the details as he approached it. It was a city. And while it bared resemblance to something she might have seen somewhere, she couldn’t put a name to it quite yet. It was an odd feeling indeed. The notion that she knew its name, that she had either been there or seen something that enabled her to know. Still, the thought escaped her. It was right on the tip of her tongue, but it seemed to elude her nonetheless.
”I’m not sure what that is. It looks big and bad, likely even dark. A Demon perhaps?”
It was a bold claim but one that carried some weight anyways. At this point, she wasn’t even sure if he’d know what a Demon was. It seemed like a simple enough concept to understand, but seeing as he had issues figuring out what music and a violin were, yet he could define the concept of a painting and discern the tools used for one, she couldn’t be sure if these were some of the things he had chosen or been forced to remember or forget.
While there were several spiritual beings in the world, each unique and strong in their own way, the guess at a Demonic entity had its reason. For starters, Shadowfall controlled most of the world at large. There was no real way of knowing just yet unless there were signs that indicated it in the painting, but it looked as though it was America. Last she heard, that land had been infested and taken over by the dark kind. It wasn’t unheard of for the Demons to possess abilities that most deemed unnatural even for spiritually aware standards If it wasn’t the past, and hopefully not the present, there was a chance the painting could hint at a potential future. Of course there was also the more valid idea that the art was simply a projection of a broken mind, of a seemingly broken man, or simple the remembrance of nightmares.
Nothing was truly concrete, and nothing was set in stone. As she continued to look over the art with him, she only hoped either of them were able to pick up on details that would share some light as to the name or the location of the city. All else being perfect, they could narrow down not just the area, but the event that seemed to have occurred either within his head at some point, or god forbid, in the future, at some point down the road.
”Anything besides the giant woman that draws your eye most?”
Template By:
[THEFROST]
[THEFROST]