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 Posted: Thu Aug 04, 2016 6:18 pm
“I actually, sort of forgot he could.” Zac added honestly as well. There had been nothing malicious in the choice, but for once it felt like fate had rolled some dice in their favor. He tried not to think that too hard though, lest it only make things worse to know what they were reading, what they were seeing. He glanced at the page of sketches, Algie, Eve and the young man who looked like her before he glanced back up towards the two older men. Mathematically possible, statistically improbable he thought. This town was a group of bloody monkeys typing out the works of Shakespeare with shocking clarity.
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Posted: Fri Aug 05, 2016 11:06 am
"Of course," says Renard. "But it's been quite damaged by time. Allow me to pull it out for you." He rises, and crosses to the cubbies. As opposed to the larger canvases, this one is a small rectangle of gessoed wood, not something meant to last. The paint has been scuffed off the edges, and some of the tint has darkened to black. A pale-skinned face looks out of the canvas at them, eyes too shadowed to see their true color now. The figure is hunched over slightly, almost protectively, over a palette. Prividaniye has an intensity about him, but he is not familiar in the slightest. Perhaps, had the canvas been new, he would have been. Now? No. This brunette rings no bells.
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Posted: Sat Aug 06, 2016 8:37 pm
The painter was not familiar in the slightest. With the painting aged as it was there was little to be seen with the details. His eyes closed a moment and then opened, as if he could somehow will it to be magical or that it would look different to him. No longer faceless, Prividaniyie was still unknown to them. Who had it been? "Thank you," he replied, looking over to Zac if he would notice anything about it. He was reaching for the book that Zac held, letting him have the NSFW one, to see if he could read the notations he had seen in there that his son had been pointing to. shibrogane Jeremiah ttly trying to scope out the blue period book
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Posted: Sun Aug 07, 2016 9:20 am
Zac stared at the self-portrait, it was what he’d most hoped for, but at the same time it was not. It was like trying to put a name to a ghost, or in this case a face. His shoulders might have slumped slightly, which might have been a little ironic given the pose of the artist and his darkened eyes, pale skin. Willing the face to be familiar didn’t help at all, he’d just have to keep looking. “…He really, he really captures, unique poses. It’s really neat to see.” He said after a moment trying to soothe his own disappointment. He reached for the ‘Subject T’ sketchbook.
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Posted: Mon Aug 08, 2016 4:47 pm
azuredreams The annotations for the sketches are not very interesting. They're brand names and years: Sebastian Paolo F/W 2016, Alexander McQueen Sp/Su 1998, Burberry Homme RTW 2012. Most of the paragraphs are notes on commissions. Evelyn MacMannon, age 33, portrait-- The ones that aren't are snatches of Communist poetry. endejester The reason for the plastic cover is obvious: each of these pages has been ripped out of their original notebook. The model is clearly the same man, well-built, with longish hair. Prividaniye's materials and methods are varied, some of the pages are scorched, others torn and later carefully repaired by loving hands. The last page is written in painstaking English: It is a trap.
You will never get out.
Distract him and take this page with you.
Leave now and say nothing.
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Posted: Mon Aug 08, 2016 11:48 pm
The notations were, of course, just about fashion week and various designers from years that- Jeremiah blinked a moment, reading them over again. The dates made absolutely no sense. The detective moved over to his son, meaning to point it out to him quietly, when he noticed that the sketchbook Zac was looking at was burned and clearly painstakingly put back together. What gives him further pause is when he reads the text on the page that he is on. Jeremiah looks at Zac a moment, something twisting in his gut. There was no sense of danger here, nothing telling him that there was something about to happen, but- Giving Zac a small nod, Jeremiah moved towards Renard. Pages were not necessarily simply pages sometimes, especially when they were by an artist who clearly had been involved in other ashdown. "I've another question for you," he said, "but what happened to Prividaniye? There's little information about him to find that out."
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Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2016 11:11 am
“Oh! Um, If you have another painting of Mister Taylor, you should um… it would be really cool to see it beside Mister Mercer here, I mean historically it’s kind of of awesome to see someone who looks like a historical painting, even if it’s just coincidence don’t you think? He flipped back through the pages leaving his hand on the page with the message but staring at one of the drawings of the strange unknown man, the one with long hair, almost wishing it seemed familiar. He gently pulled at the page as he spoke hoping to cover up the soft tearing sound it would make regardless. He also worked it carefully to make sure that no edges stuck out obviously while he gently pulled, and prayed that the repairs were not as strong as the original page, or at least that the way he was tugging was as quiet as he remembered. “I mean, the only way it would be more uncanny was if the painting was with someone who looked like Mister Mercer and his, well his Husband now.” He grinned. “Getting married while off in England.” He grinned and shook his head. If he could get the page free He’d try and discretely remove it while ‘casually’ reaching to lift the cover of the NC-17 notebook for a ‘scandalous’ peek.
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Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2016 1:05 pm
"He died," said Renard. The subject seemed to pain him, blue eyes going tight and faraway. "Alone. In mysterious circumstances." He looked away from the pair for a moment to return the self-portrait of Prividaniye to its proper place. "He lived in a different time. People were not always kind to those like him. Some believe he killed himself, and I agree with that." The way he said it made it clear that he felt strongly for Prividaniye in that; but then, a gay man born in the 60s, Renard had to have opinions on such things. At the sound of tearing paper, he turned back to the pair, a frown in the furrowing of his forehead. "What was that?"
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Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2016 11:21 pm
Jeremiah was younger than Renard but not by more than a few years over a decade and he could understand far too well. There were things here that, for some nameless reason, truly resonated with him. The detective had a notebook in his pocket that he was reaching for, pointedly not looking as he heard a noise. Really. "My apologies, Mister Leroux, I was reaching for my notebook and tore one of the pages as I opened it." It was true that there was a torn page in his notebook, one that he had done by accident at some point. Truthfully he was wanting to write down some notes about what they were talking about. "Is it safe to assume that notes are alright? I would like to write a few thoughts down." He had not pulled a pen out yet. "What year was it that this happened? That he died?" endejester gonna be having words with you later XD
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Posted: Wed Aug 10, 2016 2:28 pm
"Well... I officially hate your notebook." Zac supplied, his lips drawn into a thin line and a sort of 'ohmygodDAD' Stare. They likely had more than enough practice at that over the years. "I also said, before the heart attack you should See Mr. Mercer here beside that Painting of Mister Taylor, or, a painting if there is more than one. I mean the full body one looks sort of eerily similar. I wonder if you were related, you have family trees right Dad?" I mean, since you sort of seem caught up in this research bug with me." He said with a roll of his shoulders. "Maybe we can help you with the paintings in a moment too, would that be alright? I mean, I know their maybe more, delicate because of the light, but it would be cool to see who made it from these..." He lifted the crinkly cover up on the book he was currently examining, blocking the page he was 'looking' at for a moment and making that delightful plastic symphony of library books before lowering it again carefully. "To your paintings, I'm glad you had the forethought to collect as much as you did, makes me sad people tried so hard to destroy them, and him..." He let his shoulders sag slightly and turned back to the book. shibrogane So mu computer is waked out...I lost three paragraphs and part of my mind. I'm so sorry for tablet tags. Trying not to jinx the rest of the week. ILU both
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Posted: Wed Aug 10, 2016 3:31 pm
"The nineteen-forties," said Renard. He clearly doubted them: he kept a sharp eye on Zac even as he answered Jeremiah's question. "1946. Just after the war." He looked to Zac, arching an eyebrow. "I won't be leaving you alone with the collection," he said, "I thought I made that clear. If you'd like to see Mr. Mercer beside Mr. Taylor, we'll go downstairs."
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Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2016 10:13 pm
"While I wouldn't mind that myself," Jeremiah responded, writing the date down in his notebook. It was left, for a moment, laying down while he picked up the not so safe for work and his son sketchbook. Blue-green eyes cut to Zac briefly and then to Renard. Hate on Jeremiah's notebook later, Zac. "I was wondering if you, perhaps, could tell me why this particular gentleman is always drawn without a face. Are there any portraits like this?" Gently opening the sketchbook, he turned to the sketches in question and held it out for Renard. "Though I assume you don't really need to look at them to know what I am talking about." Just in case, however, because ... well. Just in case. Jeremiah was also making sure to keep himself a respectable distance away from Renard (because he had heard from Algie about him) and that he was blocking Zac from view somewhat. Somewhat.
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Posted: Sat Aug 13, 2016 9:07 am
Zac mad a small sound of protest and half reached for the NC-17 book before drawing his hand back and looking pointedly down at the plastic covered book he was examining, despite the flush creeping up his face. “I was going to…” He started to protest and stopped and exhaled. “I didn’t mean for you to leave me alone with the collection Sir. He said after a moment. “Just as part of what we are doing, or, if you had another portrait in what you’re cataloging that might happen to contain the same person. If it would make you more comfortable I’ll turn this book over to my Father and I’ll help you directly with the paintings so you can keep an eye on me. But I promise I’m not about to tuck a book or a painting under my arm and run away with it.” Which was true. He wasn’t. Honestly he wasn’t totally sure about the page despite the risks taken so far. The pages were in many cases burned, often torn, all repaired. It was totally possible that they had done this before in one of the failed lives. Maybe he should just leave it and its strange message. Still, he rested the crinkly cover on one arm to cradle the book and turned back through the pages perhaps when he was sure that the man was distracted he could slide the page into Jer’s notebook. And… maybe it wouldn’t turn out to be a ‘pre-shadow-fire version of the Burning Man committed to paper. Ha. He contemplated texting Sunny to ask, but at the same time he knew she was called ‘crazy’ and if her phone might be in the house he doubted it would go over well. Plus pictures, they might assume he was taking pictures. shibrogane I'm maybe overthinking this, I'm so sorry. i am honestly terrible and I feel bad.
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Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2016 2:43 am
Renard leaned in to examine the page, though it appeared more cursory than anything. He seemed to know the entire collection back to front and to the back again. "Yes," said Renard. He turned away and flipped through the bins of canvases, and eventually pulled one out. To Jeremiah, the set of the shoulders is familiar. The hands, the nails clipped down to nothing, those are familiar, too. But it's the ring on the man's thumb that gives the best hint as to the wearer's true identity: it's heavy, old, gold with a dark jewel set in it. The ring would have been too large for any other finger. Zac successfully sneaks the stolen page into Jeremiah's notebook.
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Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2016 6:57 pm
Jeremiah comes closer once the portrait is revealed. It is startlingly familiar. The curve of the shoulders, the hands and the nails that are nearly clipped down too far. It's the ring that really caught his eye and something twisted in his gut. "Is there-" Blue-green eyes look up towards Renard. What Zac was doing and the page was forgotten in light of this portrait. This man without a face. "May I look a little closer?" He wanted to see detail on the ring because he needed to know. If it was-
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