Ariel Rendell (
furrytailprince) wrote in
imeeji_frontstage2019-02-10 01:22 pm
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Entry tags:
LIVE!
Who: Okami and whoever
Where: The Library
When: Day 89, anytime before murder
The Live notification goes off to show Okami looking tired and unkempt. He's seated at a table in the library with reams and reams of paper, as well as various ink sketches spread across the whole of the table. It would probably be more of an inconvenience to library users if it wasn't so early in the morning.
Oddly enough, there does seem to be some order to this madness. One side of the table is full of pictures of idols in various states of despair or alarm following the results of the worst games, most of these being people Okami either doesn't know or has negative feelings toward. Interestingly enough, though many of the scenes must have been captured during times of extreme injury, the artwork is focused solely on the close-ups of the idols' expressions at the time rather than the grisly violence.
The other side seems to capture more lighthearted moments, affectionate kisses, cheerful smiles or grateful looks. This side, naturally, is focused primarily on the people Okami knows and regards highly.
The sketches seem to include a good many people of Fauxtokyo. Just how long has he been at this before he started the live? But the one common theme about both sets is the rapid, fierce style in which they are rendered, as if they have been ripped violently from someone's memory and set to paper before the image can disappear. The paintings aren't as precise as others that Okami has done in past sessions, with splatters of ink and something more rusty-colored marring what should be fairly detailed work, along with uncovered parts of the table as well.
Okami works swiftly through the live, splashing more images of either type onto the next page. Along with specks of bright blood that seems to be dripping down the quill from where he grips it in his fingers. Well, that's a thing that happened.
Where: The Library
When: Day 89, anytime before murder
The Live notification goes off to show Okami looking tired and unkempt. He's seated at a table in the library with reams and reams of paper, as well as various ink sketches spread across the whole of the table. It would probably be more of an inconvenience to library users if it wasn't so early in the morning.
Oddly enough, there does seem to be some order to this madness. One side of the table is full of pictures of idols in various states of despair or alarm following the results of the worst games, most of these being people Okami either doesn't know or has negative feelings toward. Interestingly enough, though many of the scenes must have been captured during times of extreme injury, the artwork is focused solely on the close-ups of the idols' expressions at the time rather than the grisly violence.
The other side seems to capture more lighthearted moments, affectionate kisses, cheerful smiles or grateful looks. This side, naturally, is focused primarily on the people Okami knows and regards highly.
The sketches seem to include a good many people of Fauxtokyo. Just how long has he been at this before he started the live? But the one common theme about both sets is the rapid, fierce style in which they are rendered, as if they have been ripped violently from someone's memory and set to paper before the image can disappear. The paintings aren't as precise as others that Okami has done in past sessions, with splatters of ink and something more rusty-colored marring what should be fairly detailed work, along with uncovered parts of the table as well.
Okami works swiftly through the live, splashing more images of either type onto the next page. Along with specks of bright blood that seems to be dripping down the quill from where he grips it in his fingers. Well, that's a thing that happened.
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... I appreciate the sentiment. Truly.
But I can no longer couch myself in the comfort of those who have yet to see me at my worst. It is false reassurance. I am a disappointment to myself. And... I want to be someone who does not have to hide myself behind such biased reassurances. That is not strength, it is a crutch.
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And sometimes all I need is a bad day to lash out at someone.
It's not something I enjoy; it's just how I work at times. And it's probably something I should change about myself.
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[ he pauses as he thinks about how to say it ]
Just like these drawings, the person I am now isn't fully me in its entirety.
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I can understand that. I suppose the same can be said about most of us.
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