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."

[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.

[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?"

[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.

[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).