undergrounds | (OTA) Things are pretty, graceful, rich, elegant, handsome, but...

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(OTA) Things are pretty, graceful, rich, elegant, handsome, but...

[A.]
When looking to buy or sell an unusual item, Kunstkammer is a small, but well respected shop that specializes in ephemera and curiosities. The lights are dimmed to protect the colours of the more delicate pieces, but should one wind their way through the somewhat maze-like cabinets and cases, they will likely find their way to a desk, a few chairs, and a circle of warm lighting. The proprietor, Lan, is most often found here reading or cataloging some new, strange find. She is a petite fae woman with smooth pale pink skin pebbled over with small scales more like a ray than a snake.

Of course, there is a back-of-shop filled with items of a more usual, occasionally salacious or dangerous nature. Should anyone have an interest, Lan is just as happy to sell or trade any piece from her collection. She has a particular weakness for anything that she classifies as 'beautiful', but her definition may not match the standard.

(Or you can continue from the TDM over here.)

[B.] Lan isn't one to be caught out on public transit, not when it's just as easy to slip slideways and walk along a more interesting shortcut. That isn't to say that she's not often seen out and about: there's always a gallery opening, a curious tasting menu, or some flavour of performance that's worth taking in. While she may be Seelie, she's more likely to be spotted at night and she certainly does nothing to hide who or what she is.

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It would be profoundly unwise to go about in Lan's store and break things. An accident might be tolerated, but there's no guarantee she'll view it that way.

"Come in, come in," she calls from the back of the shop as she walks up to the front. Once the light from the windows hits her, there's no denying just how inhuman she is. "How can I help you?"

Ghoul instinctively heads towards the voice. The best thing to do is to outright ask, since he has no idea where to even begin looking on his own.

"Hey, yeah, I was—" When he catches sight of her, he loses all his words and jumps a bit in surprise. He's never actually seen a fae look like a fae... Not that it's bad. She's kind of pretty in a really weird, alien sort of way, and he gets caught up in staring for a touch too long before he remembers where he is and what he's doing. "Uh, I think it's probably a long shot, but I was wondering if you have anything like... I dunno, anything that works like wards? Or repellents?"

"Ah, no, I'm afraid not. You've come to the wrong sort of shop." Undoubtedly, Lan could magically ward someone's home or things, but that's not really what she's best at. "If you would like a piece of art, I can help you there. I might even..."

She stills, cocks her head to one side, and breaks into a bright smile that's matched by a sudden sharp splash of light and colour from her throat. "A repellant, you say? I have just the thing. A piece so awful that it would drive anyone with good taste away. Would you care to see it?"

Damn it.

He hides his disappointment well enough, forcing his short-lived frown in to a mild smile instead. He sincerely doubts art will help his situation, but, fuck. He's already here. Might as well make the trip worth it. "Yeah, why not? Lemme take a look. But, uh... if it's so bad, why do you have it? Isn't ugly stuff bad for business?"

Lan stands quite still for a moment, the only movement her breathing and the play of colour moving over her skin. Her expression never wavers as she continues to watch him, but not move towards any of the racks of prints or shelves of books. Perhaps she will be more generous than usual today.

"What do you think the point of art is?"

Ghoul's a little taken aback by the question, his eyes widening a fraction. The way she's staring at him makes him feel like ants are crawling all over his skin. It's the same sensation he always gets when he's been unexpectedly put on the spot. He's definitely not an artsy kind of guy, more like the kid who got a C in every art class, so his first instinct is to say, "Ain't it supposed to be pretty?" That's what it usually seems to be for. Something easy to sell. Something nice, nonthreatening, and utterly forgettable meant to take up blank space on a wall at home or in an office. The visual equivalent of soft elevator music.

But, a moment after saying it, he realizes that's not right. He's seen the act of purposely destroying nice things being called art, too. Hell, he's participated in some of that himself. He's not so bold as to pass himself off as an artist, but he knows people who live by that identity, and he can tell just by watching (and also by doing)- it's more than just breaking stuff or spraypainting walls, it's channeling emotion in to something physical, making a statement. So, maybe that's supposed to be the point of it all, pretty or not. Expression. Secrets. Communication.

He chews at his bottom lip and shrugs, avoiding eye contact as he answers, "Um. No, I guess it doesn't really have a point. Or, I mean- maybe it's whatever you make of it. You know? I dunno." He has trouble putting it in to words. First, because it sounds ridiculous, and second, because it feels kind of weirdly personal.

Dumb dog.

As he gives his first answer, the atmosphere in the little shop changes from one that's warm and inviting to something harsh and alien, but as he continues to struggle through what he wants to say, the cold edge fades away. While his eventual response may not be particularly decisive, it pleases Lan and makes her smile reappear.

"Some of the things called art are pointless and some fine art makes a point out of being without meaning, but much of it, much of it exists to express. Come here, let me show you something." She hums and pulls a book off the shelf, flipping through until she finds the page she wants and taps at the edge of the large print. "What do you think of this?"

His head pops back up once he's prompted to follow her, which he does without question. As long as he doesn't have to continue making an ass out of himself, he's happy.

Once she's picked out her book and her chosen page, he leans in to look, head tilting to the side. He's barely looked at it for a few seconds before he says, "It's gross." Gross, and weird, and disturbing. But he likes gross and weird and disturbing things. His entire body is practically a walking canvas of doom and gloom, although it's not apparent at the moment thanks to his clothing.

After scanning over the image for a bit longer, he gives a short, humorless laugh. "I feel like that sometimes."

"It's visceral. Literally and figuratively. It's not the sort of art you'd find hanging in a motel lobby, is it? It's not framed wallpaper. It's personal. Intimate and revealing. Looking at it opens up the guts." Lan flips the page to show Veláquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X. "And this? Where would you put this?"

It's clear that Bacon's painting was based on this, but that they have two totally different sets of emotions and associations.

She's sure got the first one right on the nose.

"That one?" It's so much plainer and safer than the previous one, even if he thinks the guy doesn't look all that thrilled to be there. He supposes he wouldn't want to spend hours sitting around and being painted, either. Still, it's nothing Ghoul would choose for his own home. He wrinkles his nose. "Somewhere stuffy and official, probably. It looks like it belongs in a place I'd get kicked out of pretty quick." And he grins.

"And I'd be given the boot just as quickly, but look at him. You might not be able to take him in a fight, but he looks powerful. He's rich, he has authority, but he doesn't look satisfied with it. He's clever, too." Lan turns to smile at Ghoul as she closes the book and gently places it back on the shelf. He's young, but he's made an effort and that counts for something. Maybe offering to help him will do him good or maybe it's just enough rope to hang himself with.

"To craft the sort of ward you might need, we can work together to find a print. Or, you can find someone else that specializes in trinkets and magic. It's your choice."

Now it's Ghoul's turn to stare at her. She's got a good eye, he thinks. He'll have to remember not to let her ever look at a drawing of him- which is an illogical train of thought, but one that has him smiling privately for a quick second.

The expression threatens to come back when she offers to help him find a print. "Really?" It's hard to hide the excitement in his voice, though if he were smart, he wouldn't sound even half as eager. Magic is sticky business that he doesn't need to be meddling in. "Any kind of help would be good, even if it's pointing me in the direction of another shop. I know you said this isn't really the right kind of place for that stuff, I don't wanna bother you if it's gonna be trouble."

He only enjoys being bothersome when dealing with someone he doesn't like.

"On the whole, fae don't offer to do anything we don’t want to." Which should lead Ghoul to ask himself just why would Lan want to do this for him. She's notably less human-like than many of the others in the city which suggests she runs by her own rules. "And we never do anything without a price attached. This isn't a gift. It's likely not even kindness, but it may be worthwhile."

If Ghoul agrees, Lan will accept it as a form of contract and begin to work on his behalf; if not, she will likely give him a snack and send him merrily on his way. Either way, she will not outline their respective rules and responsibilities. It's his job to know how to treat fae and not her place to teach him.

"Oh." Well, hell. That's understandable. Who wouldn't want paid for their time and effort? What she's saying doesn't sound unreasonable, but he hasn't had much experience with fae or their trickery.

However, while may not know fairy tales, he does know business. And making agreements before you know how much you're paying for a service is bad business. "I dunno. What kinda price? I know it's hard to judge somethin' like that, but it can't be cheap, right? 'Specially if it's kinda large-scale. I don't wanna waste our time if I can't afford it anyway." Of course, he's thinking solely in terms of money at the moment, because what else could he possibly have to offer?

Dumb, dumb dog.

Oh, Ghoul, you have just made Lan so very happy. A deal is lovely, but a deal where both parties are willing and aware enough to negotiate is just delightful.

"Nothing worth doing is ever cheap. Now, before we get into the nitty gritty, let me be a proper host and welcome you. Come in, be comfortable, and let me offer you food and drink." It's an odd formality, but it is designed to offer Ghoul some measure of safety. Lan gently taps the spine of the book of prints once before heading further back into her shop. There's a pair of chairs, a little low table, a bowl of fruit, and a tea kettle. "And do tell me, do you want to work on just the one piece for yourself, or do you want to lean the principle of the thing so you can go on to create others?"

She does have a point. Quality is costly. Maybe they can work something out...

That is, if something similar to what he's looking for even exists in the first place.

He follows her lead, picking a chair and settling down in to it. He gives her offers of food and drink a polite smile, but ultimately shakes his head while tucking his hands beneath his knees. "Oh, uh, I'm good." It's a personal rule of his; no gnawing on things while holding Serious Conversations. Makes him feel like he's taken at least a little more seriously.

As for the details, he suddenly looks surprised. "I could learn how to do that...?" He's getting ahead of himself now. Rewind, Ghoul. "It wouldn't be somethin' personal for me. It'd need to be something that can be copied and used in more than one place at once. So, yeah, the second option, I guess. I dunno what you'd call it. A rune, maybe?" He shrugs. "You know what I mean, though?"

Tsk, tsk. If he's going to refuse her offer of food, then she's not bound by the rules of hospitality. It's enough to make Lan wonder if no one is teaching the humans proper manners or if the local fae have somehow changed their ways. Curious.

"Not exactly the sort of thing I was going to suggest, but I suppose there's some merit to investigating it." Originally, she'd planned to teach him how to pick out the right piece of art and imbue an emotion or state of being into it. That could've been useful or beautiful, but a mass produced rune doesn't have the same appeal. She ought to tell him so and spare him any grief, but …but he is not her guest and she owes him nothing.

"What sort of sigil would you care to create? What is important enough to you that you'll work for it?"

In this particular case? It's nothing but pure ignorance. Not only was he (only fairly recently) bitten rather than being born in to his curse, there aren't any Fae101 classes where he's from. And he's an American, which is even worse. But so far he's not dead or anything, so that has to count for something!

He hums thoughtfully, staring down at the table while he organizes his ideas. "Guess you could say it's for protection. Ain't gotta keep killing people and getting killed back if you can just keep 'em away in the first place, right?" When he looks back up at Lan, he's frowning. Trying to wrap his head around the details of how it would work always leaves him frustrated. "It's too big of a thing, isn't it? Like, fuck, if it could be done, why wouldn't everybody use 'em?"

Or maybe it's just something especially dark. Or dangerous. And anyone worth their salt knows better than to even begin messing with things like that.

It's true, he's not dead! Of course, there are so many things that are worse than death.

"What you want isn't impossible, but it involves a great deal of work on your part. There are easier ways to learn, and if you were to seek out other fae, they would be happy to make that trade with you, but the cost would be different." A little careful readjustment and Lan is sure she can steer this conversation back towards the sort of skills she can offer.

"I can offer to act as a muse. To help you learn to create on your own."

Ghoul begins to fidget. Every time he gets a question answered, it feels like he thinks up at least two more to take its place. But first, before even discussing other fae or costs, he wants to make absolutely sure... "And I could for sure do that? Make them on my own, even though I'm not magic? How?"

"Very little in life is certain. You could try, you could fail, you could partially succeed. I am not the sort of fae that will promise you success against all the odds. I can agree to guide you, to act as a muse, but that is all I offer." She could stretch the truth further, but for now, this is likely enough. In her experience, those that accept a deal that seems too good to be true become aware of their error far too early on to be much use or entertainment.

So there's no guarantee it'll work, or that he'll even be good at it. But it could still be useful. Maybe learning the nature of it would give him a starting point in figuring out what's ideal for what he wants and what isn't. Or it could give him an advantage in case it does work and something needs to be changed on the fly. And, if he had to guess, perhaps learning the methods behind it would be less hideously expensive than contracting multiple custom jobs. It'd be just like taking piano lessons or something, wouldn't it?

"Okay, I think I get what you mean. So you'd basically be like a tutor or whatever, yeah? But what would you want for something like that?"

"I wasn't being euphemistic when I said I would act as a muse." Lan looks at the teapot and the two empty cups on the table. If he'd chosen to accept her hospitality, all of this would be moot, but now she needs to decide how to explain her skills. Would it be best to give him a practical demonstration or to explain a little further?

"Tell me, what do you think the cost of art is? The cost of creation?"

He's not so sure about the cost of art, but the cost of creation sounds dramatic enough that it makes him hesitate. Maybe it requires just as dramatic of an answer. "Probably something all poetic like destruction." A shrug. So, what, she has to break something in order to create something new? Or...

"Wait, you don't have to hurt somebody to do whatever it is you do, right?"

"I wouldn't say it's always intrinsic to the process, but it's not uncommon." Lan smooths out the linen of her skirt as she thinks through how to explain her methods. "And to just go out and break something, that's petty and pointless. That's not sacrifice."

"Think of Van Gogh. You know his work, you can probably picture a handful of them without any effort. Everyone knows his name, his art. How many paintings did he sell while alive? One. Just one." Just behind her, there's a small, faded photo of the 'The Red Vineyard' tucked into the frame of a mirror. In the image it is hanging on the wall and viewing it there are several humans in outdated dress holding little brochures in French. "How many great artists have died at twenty-seven? A flash in the pan. You all barely have the time to live, and yet some bargain away what little they have in order to grasp at fame or beauty or whatever they love more than life."

"I am not saying that to create you would need to die young or languish in obscurity, not unless you want to trade for something rare enough to be worth it."

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