ArchivedLogs:Art Thing

Art Thing
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Marinov, Tag
In Absentia	2017-03-28 No exploitation took place.
Location <NYC> {Workhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The wide entryway leads into a semicircular sitting area with plush modular chairs, sofas, and huge beanbags arranged around two low tables. The bright, open expanse of the house fans back and out from here, executed in stunning industrial style with extremely conservative usage of rough stone walls. Through a door on the right is a library boasting an eclectic but extensive collection of books, a cozy reading nook, as well as a state-of-the-art computer work station. Opposite this is a media room with a projector mounted overhead and a formidable sound system on all sides, the windows still admitting plenty of light when the blackout curtains are pulled back. Beyond the sitting area, toward the back of the house and separated from adjacent areas only by plentiful black granite counters, are a pair of kitchens, each stocked with their own appliances, cookware, servingware, and utensils. Adjoining the (vegan and kosher) kitchen on the right is a simple dining room with a long oval table and chairs designed to accommodate a range of body shapes. On the other side, tucked between the general-purpose kitchen and the media center, is a guest room and a full bath. At the center of the entire house is a cylindrical elevator shaft of steel and glass with two floating stairways coiled around it like an immense double helix. Both elevator and stairs lead down out of sight and up to a circular landing joined to the second storey wings by walkways that leave the space above the sitting area open. Above the kitchens is a sun-drenched split-level recess, the lower half a conservatory enclosed by glass and the upper half a rooftop garden. The whole is walled with glass and lets in copious quantities of natural light softened by lush greenery. Things are bright and lively inside Workhaus tonight. The windows have been thrown open wide to the balmy spring evening, letting in a mild breeze off the river. There's loud singing coming from the media room where the ongoing game of Dixit is continually interrupted by people chiming in to sing along with /Moana/ playing on the projector. The kitchen counters are laden with snacks and drinks of various sorts; small clusters of people scattered through the house have found their own corners to play games or just sit and chat. Dusk, having just wandered away from a recently completed game of /King of New York/ (his cheerfully pirouetting Giant Robot was not, alas, crowned the king of the giant monsters) is just ambling by the kitchen to snag a key lime cupcake off its counter, pause briefly to steal a swig of an open bottle of beer, duck back out of the kitchen just in time to miss the playful swat of Rachel's large feathered wing after him at this flagrant thievery. Cupcake in hand, he meanders up and out onto the garden, balmy-warm tonight and lit with a host of small white fairylights encased in dragonfly-shaped wire wrap. Out here in the nighttime air his wings unfurl lazily -- as usual they're the brightest thing about him. Colored a vibrant, new-growth green, tonight they resemble massive, multi-lobed leaves. Darker green veins spread out in dendritic patterns from the elongated phalanges that give the wing membranes shape. The fuzz on the surface of the membranes has been rendered transparent on the dorsal side and a soft, translucent white on the ventral side. In contrast the rest of his attire -- black cargo shorts, grey wrap shirt -- is pretty bland. Tag is lounging in the garden, though the game of Blokus he came out here to play has long since wrapped up. He's wearing purple t-shirt decorated with a cartoonish and very colorful chimera eeling its way across the words 'Chimaera Arts Collective' in jagged graffiti-esque script, and, a knee-length circle skirt with wavy bands of rainbow colors on a pink ombre background, and sandals with rainbow webbing straps. His hair falls loose past his shoulders and is a shimmering iridescent green at the moment, though it had decidedly been several different colors throughout the evening. He has been just looking at his smartphone and sipping from his beer, but looks up and waves as Dusk joins him. "So, who got crowned the King of New York, this time?" While they are not an especially common sight in the Commons, Marinov has come out for the evening to see what all the fuss about this game night is. Having just finished playing Dominion themselves, they've decided to stand and wander out a bit to stretch their legs, pausing a moment to straighten their blue-and-black kilt. To complete the ensemble, they wear an altered Prince Charlie jacket and a green bow tie. Their eyes settle a moment on Dusk's wings, though, and they approach. "Hey Dusk, your wings look awesome! Like leaves- holy shit, that looks awesome." Quickly after stating this, they notice Tag and wave a hand in greeting. "Heya. Prosti. Didn't mean t'interrupt." Dusk snorts, fangs flashing in a quick grin at Tag. "Maaan you gotta ask?" His head shakes slowly, spilling shaggy dark hair down over his eyes. "{It's fucking hopeless, honestly.}" He doesn't sound at all put out, admittedly. He hops up onto the garden's safety rail, perching there with his wings mantling wide behind him as he peels the cupcake wrapper. "Yo." His chin lifts. "I know, right?" His smile has brightened with Marinov's praise. One long thumbclaw twitches toward Tag in indication. "He's a gorram genius. I just sit back and let him improvise. It's a surprise every time and it's always -- like, /fuck/, damn. And you're not interrupting. I like the jacket." Tag chuckles, slipping his phone into a small satchel decorated with blue, green, and purple geometric patterns that seem to shift with the angle of the light. "There's /enough/ of an element of chance in that particular game that I thought it was worth speculating." He sits up, takes a long pull of his beer, and sets it down on a nearby table. "No worries," this to Marinov, his smile bright and quick, "and what he said." This with a toss of his head at Dusk. "About the interrupting, /and/ the jacket. Not sure about the /genius/ part, but I'm glad you like my work." He blushes, the color not all that visible on his cheeks but rising in a glittering wave up through his hair, shifting it to an uncanny multichromatic greenish-purple. "I don't believe we've met; I'm Tag, I live in the house over there." One hand waves vaguely off toward the Commons courtyard. "The one with the giant robot and giant monster watching the sunset painted on the front." Marinov's ears perk up slightly at having their jacket complimented and they say, "Ah, spasibo! Yea, I figured, I had a kilt already..." They give a bit of a shrug as they trail off and then continue down a different train of thought, "Oh! I'm Marinov. Taylor Marinov. I don't actually live here, but I know a few people and, well, here I am! I'm actually living at Xavier's school for the time being." Their ears swivel between Dusk and Tag a moment and they remark, gesturing to Tag's shirt, "Oh! Chimaera... you're probably an artist-" They pause for just a beat. "Uh. I mean. Not just probably." Their eyes shift towards Dusk's wings to admire them a moment more. "But I just mean. I recognise the name." "Tag is definitely an artist." Dusk flexes his wings outward, slow and lazy before pulling them back in. "Marinov's working on organizing a whole badass art /thing/ for mutant artists to showcase their stuff." He explains this to Tag as he breaks his cupcake in half -- kind of messily, it oozes limey custard from its inside that he licks off the side of his hand where it has dripped. "They do amazing things with clothes." Kind of waving his half-cupcake at the jacket and kilt. "I paint on things. And people!" Tag beams, and he seems to brighten--literally, the colors of his outfit and hair become more vibrant. "Not /always/ with my brain, though it /is/ cheaper and less messy. So you design? Or sew? Or both?" His hair is looking less green and more purple with each passing moment. "Chimaera hosts and supports a lot of Art Things, so I'm not surprised you've heard of us. But /do/ tell me more about this mutant art showcase." He leans forward in his chair, magenta eyes sparkling with interest. Marinov nods along quietly when Dusk explains a bit about their art thing. "I design and I sew, yeah. When I was little, I designed and made outfits for like... dolls and stuff, and then eventually thought like. I'm basically just a giant doll, right? I love, you know, outfits and stuff. I'm still better at fine detail, but I'm working on big picture," explains Marinov, quite enthusiastically. Their eyes follow all the shifts of colour with curiosity. They then clap their hands together once to refocus. "Yeah! Mutants arts festival thing I was thinkin' of- well, I shouldn't say thinking of, 'cause I actually have some stuff booked, so it's real. But just like, umm, a festival thing for mutant artists to show their work. There are stages and just spaces for mutant artists to show their stuff, performance and visual. I mean, I'm giving priority to artists with obvious mutations or who, you know, prominently feature people with obvious mutations in a non-exploitative way, you know?" They rub their neck and say, "But I dunno. I feel like... there's not enough of a stage currently. So people tend to pass over, like, really talented artists who have something /real/ to say. But I'm always happy for input, 'cause I want it to be good." "S'a good way to look at it. Pretty much we're walking canvases. At least when we want to be." Dusk leans forward, offering half of his cupcake out to Tag. "If you want to do some art festivalling I will /totally/ model for you by the way." His brows waggle. "Unless you were planning to exploit me. Then we'll have to talk details." "Big picture's looking pretty good to me!" Tag looks over Marinov's outfit again, nodding. "You do commissions or anything like that?" He stands up and stretches, his hair all the way to purple now and starting to edge into pink. "This festival of yours sounds great! If you'll send me an event page or whatever I can help spread the word. And I'd love to participate, if that's alright? I promise I won't exploit my canvases." He quirks a grin at Dusk. "Not in the context of my art, anyhow." Marinov chuckles softly, "Well, of course I figured there'd be no exploiting, it's just like, a sorta commitment of the festival thing. Cause I have little doubt that there's people out there who... well, who'd probably try something to spread anti-mutant propaganda. Ugh. And I just want to cut down on the filth I gotta sift through." Their ears perk and they say, "But yeah, it'd be cool if you, like, want to do some art festivalling, Tag! Like, your work is obviously amazing. I'll send you all the info." Their tail flicks a couple of times, "And yeah, I do commissions, time allowing. Often for like, people like me, who have sorta... different body shapes. Like, if you see Paige around here, I made her hat. But I can do whatever. And how about you? Do you do commissions? Like. Could you change my fur colour like in the way you change your hair?" "Yeah no that's definitely good there's some shitty-ass people out there. Hateful or just -- /creepsters/ and anything like this you'll get a fair share of terrible." Dusk's shrug is lazy, a small hitch of one wing. "Do you have any dates in mind yet? And if you need a hand sifting through the terrible when it gets closer I'll totally. Dredge emails. Whatever." His eyes flick over Marinov thoughtfully as he takes a bite of cupcake. "Oh man. Tag could make you /the/ most excellent coat." Tag bounces up onto his toes. "Awesome! I'd love to poke through your portfolio sometime. And I totally do commissions; might take a while if you have a thick undercoat and want it all colored down to the roots, but 100% doable." He digs a matte black business card from his satchel and passes it to Marinov. It reads 'Neon & Chrome Color Services' in large rainbow metallic letters; in smaller text underneath, 'Tag', an email address, a phone number, and a URL. "Shoot me an email or text or whatever, either for info about the festival or about commissions. Check out the site for my portfolio and links to Chimaera Arts stuff. Now..." His eyes slide over to the game sitting on the table. "...either of you feel up to a round of Blokus? We could rustle up a fourth if you don't wanna fudge with the three-player rules..." "Aiming for the 19th, 20th, 21st of May. And yeah, that'd be great, Dusk. Could like. Get through all kinds of that stuff. I've done a lot to get like, space and sponsorship and stuff but... I think getting the spaces filled with artists and the volunteers in place is the most important thing now." They take the card and squint down at it, bringing it close to their eyes, before tucking it into their sporran. "Yeah, for sure, I'll send you everything when I get back to my dorm." They rub their hands together and nod to the offer of Blokus, "Sure. It'll be my first time playin' it, but I'll give it a shot!"