You Only Hear The Music When Your Heart Begins To Break - OPEN

[injectablefame]

Party's already been warned off of vampire territory a few times and for now he's willing to play ball, but that doesn't mean he's going to be happy about it, especially now that they've taken Greenwich. His career is pretty halted without access to the art galleries in their territory and he's taken to what some people might see as panhandling, but what he chooses to see as an entry-level artist position.

Lately, he's taken to setting up shop with his art outside train stops in various non-hostile areas. He's got a little cardboard display with postcard prints of his favorite pieces and a travel easel with a tip jar. Every day he finds a new stop to set up at and he starts to paint. If anyone shows interest, he'll offer commissions or even just chat with people.

In the evenings, he'll move to hipper places, outside of nightclubs and bars where he might catch the eye of others in the art scene. Most of his art focuses in the juxtaposition of nature imagery and neon colors, especially wolves and forests, but he'll branch out to anything that might interest him if it fits his style of bright contrasts an harsh shapes.

On more than one occasion, he takes advantage of the cover of night to paint over old tags and ruder graffiti with his own quick spray paint work, especially in alleyways that look like they could use a little love and a brighter palette.

[ OOC: Party can be found anywhere that would be non-hostile to werewolves for any of the above scenarios. His art is along the lines of this or this or this. If you're interested in a more specific starter for something, let me know! ]

Comments

[freelife]

Evie's going to walk on by. She has things to do tonight, places to be, vampires to stop from hurting innocent civilians, the usual. But Party catches her eye. She recognizes his hair, first and foremost, then his scent. So he's stayed mostly out of trouble- good. He needs it. Their world needs it.

Her high-heeled boots come to a stop right outside of where he's set up shop, and she makes a to-do about looking at the postcard prints, humming at them. A moment, and then she drops a 20 pound note into his tip jar.

"I see you're keeping out of trouble, Party."

[injectablefame]

He's about to thank her for what has to be the most generous tip of the day when he realizes that she's not exactly a stranger. Mostly, vampires haven't been too kind to him since his move, but she'd certainly saved his ass in a moment of need.

"Mostly. Need a little trouble to keep things interesting sometimes." There's a little grin on his face, like he's pretty sure that she wouldn't really agree with that sentiment, but staying entirely out of trouble sounds an awful lot like hiding from life to him.

"If you see anything you like, take one."

[freelife]

Evie sighs, shaking her head with a bit of a laugh. "You sound like my brother," she confesses. Jacob was always looking for trouble, it seemed. "And me, to an extent." But she was an Assassin. Trouble and her went hand-in-hand.

She looks closer at the board he's set up. "I will, thank you. Is this your job, then?"

[injectablefame]

"Sort of. Been in some galleries, but recent changes have left me without much access to them." He expects that she'll know what he means. He's not exactly welcome in vampire territory.

"Hoping I can make some new connections. Or at least pay my rent." There's a hint of a bitter laugh. "Your brother older or younger?"

[freelife]

"I know, and I'm truly sorry about that. Take comfort that not all agree with the changes." She can't say anymore, and she won't, but she wants to give the young man a bit of hope. It was the least she could do.

"I'm sure you will. You're quite talented." She gives him a soft smile. "Originally, younger." It was complicated, given that he'd been turned before her, so he was older in vampire age, though she was older physically as well. It didn't help that they were twins.

[emotioneater]

Cooper is passing by when he sees the little postcard prints on display. They're colorful and bright, if not exactly the normal sort of thing he'd put on his wall. Then he sees the artist with the unusually-colored hair sitting there and realizes that they've met before.

He taps the tip jar without putting anything in. "Here's a tip. Get a real job." He grins at his own joke. What can he say? Cooper is both simultaneously a little old man and an immature teenager at the same time.

[injectablefame]

Before even looking up, Party gives him the finger while he finishes the line he's drawing with his other hand. Once he does look up, there's a moment where he's trying to place where he knows this guy from. Admittedly, he'd been pretty fucked up when they'd meet.

"I had a real job, but you and your friends advised me out of the area." Not that he's pissed off or anything.

[emotioneater]

"It was for your own good, bucko. Would you prefer to be stuffed 'n mounted inside Harris' mansion right now?" As he speaks, Cooper picks up the postcards, and flips through them, studying each of them carefully. They are quite good, no matter how much he'd like to heckle otherwise.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out two pounds, and sticks it into the tip jar, selecting a brightly-colored one from the bunch. There. He's done his job to make sure Fluffy here won't go hungry.

[injectablefame]

"At the risk of soundin' like a beauty queen, I'd prefer world peace." He lets out a mirthless laugh, but the tip earns Cooper a kiss blown his way. Truthfully, Party can't bring himself to hold too much of a grudge. It's not like the guy attacked him, even if he seems like he might be a tool. There's bigger fish to fry in the world, as far as he's concerned.

"What do you think is the chance of me gettin' something worked out so that I can come and go?" His hand goes back to the piece he's working on, but his attention is equally split between his movements and the conversation.

Bah, this is what happens when I do tags from e-mail and can't check them. Broken html...

[emotioneater]

Cooper watches him draw with avid interest. Despite being older than electricity, he's got no talent for the arts. The only thing he's ever been truly talented at was riding motorcycles.

"The chance of that happening will be when the small end of never rolls around." Time to squash that idea good and flat before Fluffy here ends up in some really deep shit. "You do realize Harris gives out nice little prizes for the vampire that turns in the most werewolf pelts?"

[iustitiae]

It would not normally be in Connor to notice some random vendor on the side of the street. Being of a particularly comfortable income bracket, he tends to look down on street artists in general assuming it's all scams and basically treating them like they don't exist. Except --

Party's scent stops him. As in literally he stops on the street and stands there for a moment before turning around. It's more than just that he knows he's a werewolf, more than any weird pack-inclinations. He knows this guy and it makes his skin crawl and his stomach nauseous.

Fuck this guy really.

Connor wheels around and marches right on over to Party, eyes narrowed. Would Party even have remembered what happened? Did he know? The bite on his arm still feels fresh in his mind, the horror of that night never going to leave; but Party? Maybe he should cut him some slack.

(he won't.)

"Selling paintings instead of frolicking in the woods?"

[injectablefame]

Party's nostril's flare before a word is even spoken. Memory is a funny thing when he's a wolf, but it's still there, like the memory of coming down from a really good high or a particularly productive burst of creativity.

"Running around in the woods don't pay my rent. Does it pay yours?" The last thing he's going to do is apologize for giving someone a gift. Sure, he's a little sorry about the biting part, but he gets the feeling that that's not what this look is about. "'Cause you seem to spend an awful lot of time there when it's real stupid to."

He crosses his arms, getting a dot of blue paint on his sleeve. Shots fired, motherfucker.

[iustitiae]

"That's it? That's your -- you're blaming me?" Connor's anger intensifies. Shots fired, indeed. "Yeah, I'm sorry for being in the wrong place at the wrong time." He can't believe he's actually having this conversation right now. When he thought about confronting the idiot who turned him, he imagined t going a lot of different ways but most of them involved Connor being way cooler.

"Do you just make a habit of that? Accosting whatever poor soul happened to be in the woods? Heaven forbid anyone want to take a walk."

Or bury a body. You know.

[injectablefame]

"First time, actually." Party's being pretty nonchalant, but it's true. He hasn't been a werewolf all that long and until now, he's managed to stay away from people.

Then his voice drops so that the din of the street will cover his words for anyone who isn't as closer as Connor. "Do you make a habit of running around alone in the woods on the full moon? Because you have to admit that I didn't put you there and I sure as shit didn't make you do what we both know you did after."

He taps his nose, as if to remind Connor that he can, in fact, smell that he's also a werewolf now, which means he's recently killed someone and they both know it.

"Doesn't have to be a bad thing, Debbie Downer."

[iustitiae]

Being a wolf might have given him anger and vaguely murderous tendencies, but at heart Connor's not really meant to be a murderer himself. The fact that he's been this wrapped up in multiple instances of death at this point is still shocking to him, and hearing Party point out about the one that had actually been, without question, his doing makes him blanch.

"Of course it's a bad thing," but the anger has kind of seeped out of his tone by now, more or less, replaced by a numbness and a hint of fear. Connor is afraid of Party, there's no question, but he's more afraid of himself. Anger has always been a great cover, a good thing to turn to, like a security blanket thrown over your head to block out the world. But it's not the full picture and Party hits him where it hurts. "I didn't ask to be like this."

[roddy_reinigen]

Roddy himself was going around the various areas that weren't in vampire control, since he desperately needed a job, and would be just as unwelcome by vampires. Not to mention the fact that being a rat, he was far easier prey than a wolf would be.

The bright neon against a black background caught Roddy's eye and he approached, curious. He noted the wolf-like scent, and figured the man could smell his own rat scent, but figuring it didn't matter since it wasn't a full moon night, he forced himself to ignore it. Even if the predatory scent made him feel a little more on edge, he figured nothing was as bad as running into a vampire. At least, that's how things seemed lately.

"That looks amazing," he said, focusing on one of the paintings of a pack of vividly colored wolves, racing through a forest.

[injectablefame]

Party's head shot up with a little grin that made him look impossibly young. He took enough pride in his work to really appreciate it when others recognized his talent. "Thanks. It's one of my favorites."

He didn't really mind hanging around other creatures. Even vampires didn't bother him when they weren't being dicks about territory, so he barely reacted to the new smell, instead leaning his elbows on his knees and looking Roddy up and down. "Are you an artist, too, or just a fan?"

[roddy_reinigen]

"Different kind of artist. I play the violin. So yeah, when it comes to painting, I'm just a fan."

But a fan who understood the amount of effort and passion that went into a piece, even if his own work engaged a different sense entirely.

[injectablefame]

"What kind of music? Do you play anywhere?"

Something in Party lights up at the prospect of another creative person with a foot in the supernatural world. He's always had a problem with romanticizing things and it's easy enough to picture himself finding people here like his old friends, creative and fun and not particularly human.

[roddy_reinigen]

"I have a bit of a range. I play classical and dubstep. I also know how to DJ and I do that at raves sometimes, and I take any gig I can get, but I don't play anywhere on a regular basis."

He wished he could play somewhere on a regular basis. As it was, he was rarely able to get much of anything with his music. It wasn't for lack of skill, though, people typically loved his music when they heard it, but Roddy didn't really have any connections, and adding in the fact that he had to pass on any potential jobs in a huge chunk of the city, it did make things more of a challenge.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl was pretty aware of the comings and goings of the supernatural sort in the Richmond area near the bike shop he worked at. Most of the people were metas or witches. Not exactly a diverse crowd. A few shifters like himself, but weres... that wasn't a sight often seen. Or a scent often smelled. Not near the bike shop anyway.

But it was that scent on the wind near enough to be caught that had Daryl casually walking out on his afternoon smoke break and following it down a couple block. He wasn't really worried about a werewolf, of course. They kept to their own the same as Hillingdon. Vampires were shit to them. Was all about the same.

Daryl wasn't sure what he'd expected the were to be, but an artsy kid selling paintings definitely wasn't on the list. It caught his attention enough that instead of just hanging out across the street watching to make sure his personal territory was protected, he actually crossed over and started almost admiring the pieces.

He didn't bother introducing himself or talking right away. The kid could probably tell he was a shifter by scent even if he couldn't tell what kind. And if he was observant enough, he'd know that the area was his (look, he marked it, it was his, the other cats in the area could piss right off and so could the dogs).

[injectablefame]

Party's never been very good about caring about territory or trespassing, be it the legal kind or not. There's all sorts of places he's not supposed to go, but about the only way to get him to listen is a credible death threat. Sure, his attitude is a little aggressive, but he's usually not looking for a fight. The fights just sort of find him sometimes.

All he needs to know is that he's not in vampireville and he's got no problem setting up shop and making a little cash. He figures he's not hurting anyone, so why worry? So far, the worst he's gotten from anyone are some snide comments.

When he smells Daryl, he looks up to offer a small smile in greeting. Getting along with everyone else might be his best way of getting the pack's territory back from the vampires. "See anything you like?"

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl pointed to one of the pictures. A prominent wolf in the foreground of a forest with another one hidden near the back, behind a tree. It looked lonely at first, with that one wolf so visible and nothing else in sight. But the other waiting gave it a sense of... well, Daryl wasn't sure exactly what. Only that it wasn't being alone.

"This ain't bad. You do anything with cats?"

[injectablefame]

Party grins, taking a compliment for what it is. Even if he's not making great money doing this, it's been nice to get the attention on his art when he can actually see it, instead of leaving graffiti and wondering if anyone even looks.

"Not lately, but I take commissions if you're interested. Anything but bats." Oh yeah, he thinks he's hilarious right now.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl didn't actually get the joke, but if the kid didn't like bats, well, no skin of his back, right?

"Sure," he shrugged. "How much you charge for commissions?"

Money wasn't something he was rolling in, but it wasn't something he was hurting for, either. One of the best things about moving across the pond was his chance to start over and hold down a job the way he'd never done stateside. And getting to spend his paycheck on things he wanted rather than just things he needed? The feeling was pretty damn nice.