Anita stood in the gallery looking around at her paintings and the various people walking about. She was relatively out going, and fairly decent at doing meet and greets. Tonight though she felt as if she needed to watch her back more than worry about the guests. Regardless of her inner turmoil she had a welcoming smile on her lips as she began to walk around the room. She spotted a couple staring at one of her paintings and decided to start there.
No one was dressed up, which had been reassuring to her. Her friend Blair who had helped to set this up, expressed she didn't need to dress up that casual would be the look of the night. Initially she didn't understand that, now though being here she did. Her gallery looked like a black market affair. When she arrived in Harper Rock, she remembered being here before, playing in a few of the local pubs and coffee shops. She remembered how much she enjoyed the city and the area, this place though seemed to be the slums of the city.
It had a HOBO look to it though, which she could work with that. The gallery was inside of an old factory type building, with red brick walls, and brick columns throughout the room. She didn't think at first anyone would show, and now as it seemed to get later and later, more and more people began arriving. The moment the sun had gone down, people seemed to show up, like one would for a club. She knew there was a DJ here and people were drinking, well some were, others seemed to just watch their glasses. Regardless people had showed and perhaps this could be her big break.
As she arrived over to the couple she smiled to them. Tonight she would just be Anita, because when she wrote she used a different name, a pseudonym. She didn't want people to start adding things up and figuring out who she was. Smiling to the couple she introduced herself to them, and spent a few minutes talking to them about her work and the paintings. They did decide to buy the one they had been looking at, it was a black and white abstract painting with red splatter throughout it. As the couple paid her a generous amount of money she smiled and thanked them, and had one of the men working the gallery wrap up the painting for them.
Making her way around the room, she looked at the people who had arrived and glanced outside. It had to be late, there was no hint of the sun in the sky and though she should be tired she was wide awake. Looking out the door of the gallery she noticed a few people outside glancing in. Well they weren't really glancing they were glaring. Something about their look made her uncomfortable. Regardless for now she would focus on her guests and not the people outside who looked as if they wanted to kill her.
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Gallery for the Dead (Mora)
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Mora
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Re: Gallery for the Dead (Mora)
Mora had heard there was a showing at the Gallery, and so she had put on her best dress and decided to pay it a visit, art wasn’t her passion but she did enjoy to look at it, heck maybe she could buy a piece or two. As she walked through the entrance. She suddenly felt out of place, over dressed – everyone seemed so casual and here she was wearing a black maxi dress that seemed to cut at the middle, revealing the flesh of her stomach. It was posh enough for Mora, she didn’t like to underdress she had more than enough money through her business to pay for nice things.
Even now as she looked at the many humans and vampires alike she spotted a painting she liked it looked like blood splatter, she tipped her head to the side to admire it more, she wanted to buy it but as she moved onto the next painting did she see a couple purchase she had previously looked at. She wasn’t bothered she laughed, at least the host was making money through this. The environment itself was quite lively and loud. They talked, there was a DJ – drinks was served, but no blood which could only assume the hostess of this glamorous show was human.
She moved to the bar and ordered a white wine, the bartendeder very quickly made it for the telepath as she took the glass, no intention of drinking the liquid – but a guise, no one would suspect her – as she moved around the gallery more she noticed a brunette – she seemed to be moving around the gallery, talking to people as she went by she could only assume this woman was the hostess, she smiled and made her way over to the woman, offering her hand to the woman.
“What a lovely Gallery of paintings, did you paint them all?”
The telepath casually asked. Canting her head to the nearest painting she pointed at it. “Tell me about this one, what was your inspiration?” She asked the woman the glass of white wine still in her grasp, untouched – the moss orbs of hers were staring straight at the human woman.
Even now as she looked at the many humans and vampires alike she spotted a painting she liked it looked like blood splatter, she tipped her head to the side to admire it more, she wanted to buy it but as she moved onto the next painting did she see a couple purchase she had previously looked at. She wasn’t bothered she laughed, at least the host was making money through this. The environment itself was quite lively and loud. They talked, there was a DJ – drinks was served, but no blood which could only assume the hostess of this glamorous show was human.
She moved to the bar and ordered a white wine, the bartendeder very quickly made it for the telepath as she took the glass, no intention of drinking the liquid – but a guise, no one would suspect her – as she moved around the gallery more she noticed a brunette – she seemed to be moving around the gallery, talking to people as she went by she could only assume this woman was the hostess, she smiled and made her way over to the woman, offering her hand to the woman.
“What a lovely Gallery of paintings, did you paint them all?”
The telepath casually asked. Canting her head to the nearest painting she pointed at it. “Tell me about this one, what was your inspiration?” She asked the woman the glass of white wine still in her grasp, untouched – the moss orbs of hers were staring straight at the human woman.
wife of judas . honeymead library owner . sire to sleepers
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Anita (DELETED 5413)
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Re: Gallery for the Dead (Mora)
Anita smiled to the woman who had come over to her. Shaking her hand she introduced herself. ”Hi, I’m Anita, and yes I painted all of these.” Her smile never faltered as she listened to the woman hearing her ask of a specific painting. It was another black and white image, with the red splatter paint. A woman and a child were in the background. Though as beautiful as the painting was it was sad, darkness surrounded the woman and child, and the light seemed to be getting pulled away. Looking to her Anita smiled and looked at her painting.
She could remember when she painted that canvas, could remember her feelings at the time. ”This painting, represents a loss, something being taken away, it represents death, and shows no matter how dark it is, and how horribly it may be, there is still a beauty to it.” She smiled, the woman she had portrayed in the painting was her mother. She could remember that night like it was yesterday.
She knew her father was not a kind man, he never had been. Anita was 15 when it happened, she had been up in her room, and she could hear the screaming from the basement. Her sister was sitting beside her hiding, having come into Anita’s room because she was afraid. That was when they heard it, the loud bang of a gun going off. Before she could stop her Rosalyn ran out of the room and down stairs. Anita followed though quickly behind her.
Another bang went off and she found her sisters body lying there, and her father looking like a mad man standing over her body. Anita remembered running, and she couldn't get away fast enough. Her father manages a shot that tore through her abdomen. There was a scar there now, not near as noticeable as it was but it would be there for the rest of her life. She had spent months in the hospital, and when she was released she was placed into her Aunt’s home, her love of art came at that time. She was capable of expressing herself, without having to talk about it.
Shaking the memories away Anita looked over to the woman and smiled to her again, the look in her eyes off in a distant past though. Taking a breath she looked back to the painting. ”It shows the conflict of death, the pain, the loss, and yet the beauty of a new beginning.” The words passed her lips as she starred at her own painting now. Glancing back to the woman she smiled. The red splatters in the painting, in all of her paintings were her way of paying tribute to her family. It represented the blood that was shed that night, and the blood in her veins now. She had never told anyone why the red splatters were there, but they were and it had become something of a signature for her.
She could remember when she painted that canvas, could remember her feelings at the time. ”This painting, represents a loss, something being taken away, it represents death, and shows no matter how dark it is, and how horribly it may be, there is still a beauty to it.” She smiled, the woman she had portrayed in the painting was her mother. She could remember that night like it was yesterday.
She knew her father was not a kind man, he never had been. Anita was 15 when it happened, she had been up in her room, and she could hear the screaming from the basement. Her sister was sitting beside her hiding, having come into Anita’s room because she was afraid. That was when they heard it, the loud bang of a gun going off. Before she could stop her Rosalyn ran out of the room and down stairs. Anita followed though quickly behind her.
Another bang went off and she found her sisters body lying there, and her father looking like a mad man standing over her body. Anita remembered running, and she couldn't get away fast enough. Her father manages a shot that tore through her abdomen. There was a scar there now, not near as noticeable as it was but it would be there for the rest of her life. She had spent months in the hospital, and when she was released she was placed into her Aunt’s home, her love of art came at that time. She was capable of expressing herself, without having to talk about it.
Shaking the memories away Anita looked over to the woman and smiled to her again, the look in her eyes off in a distant past though. Taking a breath she looked back to the painting. ”It shows the conflict of death, the pain, the loss, and yet the beauty of a new beginning.” The words passed her lips as she starred at her own painting now. Glancing back to the woman she smiled. The red splatters in the painting, in all of her paintings were her way of paying tribute to her family. It represented the blood that was shed that night, and the blood in her veins now. She had never told anyone why the red splatters were there, but they were and it had become something of a signature for her.
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Mora
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Re: Gallery for the Dead (Mora)
Anita. That was her name as Mora found herself smiling. It was polite to introduce yourself as well.
"Mora Daradasi." She said. "Owner of the Honeymead Library." Something she was proud of, always proud. Books were her life, when she was human and even more so now that she's a vampire, she remembered signing the deed, getting three floors put in, it was her home when she wasn't with Judas - all her possessions were there, a home away from home. She smiled again, being sure to keep her fangs in check - especially due to the fact there were lots of humans around, she had self control she wasn't a young fledgling anymore, two years she had resided her it would be her third anniversary as a vampire here next year. She smiled at the thought.
Her attention going back to the woman, how she spoke of death, new beginnings - Mora could relate, she had killed her mother in cold blood when she was but a fledgling and once she was dead she felt free, it was as if a weight ha dbren lifted off her shoulders she understood the woman for the briefest of moments.
"Do you like death?"
Curiosity got the better of her, she wanted to know if this woman had a death wish - did she know Harper Rocks secret? She had to if she talked of death. She rubbed at her jawline for a moment thinking before turning her green orbs to look at the painting, the splatter of red in the middle of the painting made her think of blood, she had seen blood - which wasn't hard to believe.
"Death is not beautiful." She told the woman. "Death is cold, horrible - merciless, and to fall in love with the sheer beauty of it is condemning yourself." She didn't smile, her look was deadly serious - death was all of the above, and sometimes there was a way back from it to live again and the other side was you stayed dead, you become worm food.
"Especially around here, do not speak of death." She cautioned the woman.
"Mora Daradasi." She said. "Owner of the Honeymead Library." Something she was proud of, always proud. Books were her life, when she was human and even more so now that she's a vampire, she remembered signing the deed, getting three floors put in, it was her home when she wasn't with Judas - all her possessions were there, a home away from home. She smiled again, being sure to keep her fangs in check - especially due to the fact there were lots of humans around, she had self control she wasn't a young fledgling anymore, two years she had resided her it would be her third anniversary as a vampire here next year. She smiled at the thought.
Her attention going back to the woman, how she spoke of death, new beginnings - Mora could relate, she had killed her mother in cold blood when she was but a fledgling and once she was dead she felt free, it was as if a weight ha dbren lifted off her shoulders she understood the woman for the briefest of moments.
"Do you like death?"
Curiosity got the better of her, she wanted to know if this woman had a death wish - did she know Harper Rocks secret? She had to if she talked of death. She rubbed at her jawline for a moment thinking before turning her green orbs to look at the painting, the splatter of red in the middle of the painting made her think of blood, she had seen blood - which wasn't hard to believe.
"Death is not beautiful." She told the woman. "Death is cold, horrible - merciless, and to fall in love with the sheer beauty of it is condemning yourself." She didn't smile, her look was deadly serious - death was all of the above, and sometimes there was a way back from it to live again and the other side was you stayed dead, you become worm food.
"Especially around here, do not speak of death." She cautioned the woman.
wife of judas . honeymead library owner . sire to sleepers
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#3CB371
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Anita (DELETED 5413)
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Re: Gallery for the Dead (Mora)
Anita listened to her and shook her head as she sighed and looked at the painting. “Death is a horrible thing, it is brutal and ugly, but it set them free from a life far worse than death.” She knew her sister had a life to live, a full long life she should have gotten to live. However she didn't get that chance, she did get to escape their father. Anita had wished years ago to die, to go to wherever her mother and sister were. Now though she made them immortal with her art, her paintings, or songs, or even her writings. She honored them, the life they had and the death they never should have gotten.
Looking over to the woman she shook her head again. ”Death can be an awful thing, we all experience though, and it happens more than any of us would like it to. The beauty is not something to be proud of but something to remember. To remember those lost, and all you can hope is they had a better fate in death than in life.” For her family she hoped that were true, she had gone to church her whole life, but didn't have proof. Though she believed in God, she wasn't exactly religious, and had stopped going to church after her sister and mother were killed by her father.
She didn't know how else to express herself. She didn't have a death wish, though with her work you would think that she did. This was one of the paintings she had done in a more settle manner, it was a beautiful piece, other paintings in this room, were not as beautiful as frightening. They were all black and wait with the blood splatter. There was one of her father, no facial features though, she painted him as a shadow standing there with the shot gun, looking down into an abyss. Behind him was the blood splatter that was the darkest painting in the room, and seemed to attract a bit of attention. Her paintings depicted her past. Though there were no faces only shadows of the people that once were a part of her life.
Looking over to the woman she shook her head again. ”Death can be an awful thing, we all experience though, and it happens more than any of us would like it to. The beauty is not something to be proud of but something to remember. To remember those lost, and all you can hope is they had a better fate in death than in life.” For her family she hoped that were true, she had gone to church her whole life, but didn't have proof. Though she believed in God, she wasn't exactly religious, and had stopped going to church after her sister and mother were killed by her father.
She didn't know how else to express herself. She didn't have a death wish, though with her work you would think that she did. This was one of the paintings she had done in a more settle manner, it was a beautiful piece, other paintings in this room, were not as beautiful as frightening. They were all black and wait with the blood splatter. There was one of her father, no facial features though, she painted him as a shadow standing there with the shot gun, looking down into an abyss. Behind him was the blood splatter that was the darkest painting in the room, and seemed to attract a bit of attention. Her paintings depicted her past. Though there were no faces only shadows of the people that once were a part of her life.