ic Asleep on the job

[Supercape]

GM

 

Saturday 21st September, Early Afternoon

 

The art of the Byron Gallery was, as one might imagine, Byronesque. Vivid, 18th and 19th century classical, with, the owner (a Mr Winston Pudgeball) would say "a modern twist". The art itself hovered around the "just above average mark", with some excellent pieces, some mediocre ones, and everything in between. Rich landscapes, clouds, romantic heroes and heroines on Parisian streets suffering nobly for their art, tortured by a sensitive nature, or perhaps by alcohol and consumption. 

 

A half dozen people sauntered around the displays, accompanied by Mr Pudgeball, a sweaty, rotund and tall man, with thick glasses and a physique that seemed to have a kind of muscular fat to it. He was enthusiastic, nervous, and very keen for people to buy the over priced art on display. He tried to ply every browser with a glass of cheap rose, and chocolate muffins (that did not match). Despite his vaguely irritating manner, he genuinely did like the art, and genuinely knew his art. 

 

He sauntered around Adrianna Lindell like a fly around manure. Pudgeball was a young man - maybe thirty - and without the glasses and without the excess of five, maybe six, stone, he would have been moderately attractive. A bit old for Adrianna, mayhap, but still, she had the looks and he was but a man. And not that old. 

 

"Quite the... ah beautiful melancholy about this piece, don't you think?" he said, fawning over Absinthe in Paris, by Rene DeSaens. "Makes one appreciate the delights of modern sensibilities?"

 

There was nothing odious or pest like about Pudgewell. He was making polite conversation with an attractive set of... eyes. For art. 

[Kaede Kimura]

The Dreamer 

 

The Dreamer wheeled between paintings with a small smile. She wore her hair in a long braid, and a dress in warm autumnal reds and golds, embroidered leaves tumbling down the seams. She had managed quite the feat this day- She had managed to corral her dreams into staying as hidden as they could while she toured the gallery. The occasional one disobeyed, like the pixie currently flying away with a chocolate muffin, but for the most part they were not interrupting her day at the Byron Gallery.

 

So she tried not to be peevish at the owner doing that exact thing, it was only polite that he engaged with his guests. She smiled politely up at the man as he offers his thoughts on the painting before them, "It most certainly does, DeSaens is clearly an artist of great skill. I've seen few artists portray misery so beautifully." She takes a small sip from her glass of wine, the cheap rose having been replaced with a dream of a much superior vintage.

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Ho ho ho!" said Pudgeball, pressing his stomach with both hands so to expel a half genuine laugh. "Yes indeed, beautiful misery. I can see you are quite the wit. May I offer you a drink?" he said, grabbing a glass of cheap champagne from the counter. And drinking it. 

 

"Oh ho ho! I meant that for you! ho ho! must be my nerves? Can I drink you an offer?" he repeated in a mangled garble. He swiped another glass, shoving it almost under the Dreamers nose.

 

He raised his head to the other five browsers. 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen... If I may be so bold as to ask for your valuable attention for one minute?"

 

The slight drowse in his voice told the Dreamer that the champagne bubbles had hit his brain. 

 

"In the back room I have a new selection! Debut! For your esteemed eyes only. If you would be so good to follow me..."

 

The lone security guard rolled his eyes but kept otherwise professional. He looked bored already. 

[Kaede Kimura]

The Dreamer

 

The Dreamer gave a confused, disbelieving smile at the man's strange response to her statement. She opened her mouth to turn down his offer of champagne when he downed it, and then babbled some gibberish and forced the glass into her face. She pulled back from the assault upon her senses. Was this man real? Most of her dreams weren't so... confronting. She took the glass and pretended to take a sip to be polite, before passing it to a small gremlin as soon as his eyes were no longer upon her.

 

She considered carefully the statement about going to see this new item in his collection. She wasn't sure how comfortable she was following this man to a private location, but thinking about it at least she would not be alone and she was curious to see the new painting. Even if he purveyed swill and called it wine, his collection did include well made art. She wheeled after him, smiling wryly at the guard who rolled his eyes.

[Supercape]

GM

 

The back room was dark, with sullen, soporific air. Dust hang suspended. There was the grind of a malfunctioning air condition unit, a fan stuck. The air was hot. 

 

"Splendid!" said Mr Pudgeball, sweating profusely. 

 

One more guard stood here, but if the one in the main room was dozy, this guy was practically asleep on his feet, his head nodding downwards, occasionally jerking up, only to repeat the pattern.

 

The art here was strange, vivid. Clouds, castles in clouds, strange skies, strange birds. Steampunk zepplins and ornithopters. All very alien, like a figment of imagination. 

 

And one picture in particular stood out. A man with long red hair, handsome, perhaps melancholy, elegantly dressed in 19th century drapes in the style of a gentleman. In his hand, a glass ball full of lurid green smoke. 

 

"Moyd!" said Pudgeball, pointing at the picture. "No. Seriously. Its called Moyd. Perhaps the name of the gentleman? Very mysterious painting. Odd name...."

 

But what particularly resonated with the Dreamer was the skies and people of these paintings, particularly Moyd. It felt, surely, as if this was some dreamscape. Perhaps the dreamscape that she had come from!