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 Posted: Fri Dec 13, 2013 10:11 pm
Winter wasn't the ideal time to use a bike to get around, but since there wasn't a coating of ice or snow making it impossible Quenton made use of his machine just the same for going place to place in mundane errands. It was cheaper than the bus, and he'd had no time for jewelry making the last couple of months. He'd handled business at the Bursar's, the bank, registration, bookseller's and the post office. It was a month's worth of footwork crammed into a day, but it was worth it to free up his schedule for the winter break. There were plans to see out. As he rounded a corner onto a long stretch of road that looped the back end of a small copse between park and office building he couldn't help but notice there was someone...crouching? Picking at- no, picking up what was undoubtedly dead forest dweller from the shoulder of the road. With the wind chill and temperature drop the last couple of weeks, the little corpse would undoubtedly be well preserved. Quenton gently two fingered his breaks as he came level opposite the road from the...fellow, looked male- "I hope that's not dinner, " it was said like it was meant to be a joke, only it lacked real tongue-in-cheek. It was more conversational and part observation. Strickenized If there needs be a change, let me know~
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Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2013 10:37 am
Alois understood the blatant lapse of judgment in his clothing choice for the day. He knew, but it wouldn't matter in the end. If anything, such a blatantly ridiculous selection only fed into his excuse, his trite explanation for his grievous injuries, and no one would deny the accuracy of his story. However, one small break in the uniform color scheme of his outfit indicated a mild addition from another, more colorful soul - one who sought to break his sole tradition, and managed it by unknowingly aiding and abetting this unconscionably pointless plan.
He traveled roads well known for death, but consistently brushed his own through pushing himself too far. Often enough the misanthrope stumbled from exhaustion, from near asphyxiation, and had to relinquish this meager task for a time. He'd watch the cars streak by in his fading vision, or stare at a pinpoint of clear blue sky like a gunshot through the stars spread across his sight. The world faded to radio noise, tinny and inspiring, while he leaned against poles and street lamps and benches for some mild shred of support.
But ultimately, he reached his intended trawling street (as he called them) by noon and assumed his work in scanning the asphalt. The misanthrope measured out his steps in meticulous boredom as he searched, and occasionally he stopped to tighten the single brown scarf about his neck out of sheer paranoia. Occasionally a car passed far too close to him and he closed his eyes to feel the wind caress what little exposed skin he had. And sometimes he thought fleetingly of leaning into the car, of endorsing the excuse he crafted before leaving the house that day.
And sometimes he simply stopped to consider the experience, the suffering, that placed him in this position.
As he rested his hands gently against the scarf, in memory of the vicegrip that once stifled all breathing, he considered the man who leaned over him with a countenance composed of pure empathy. He lacked the cold disregard for human life that Alois was blessed with, and because of it, showed even a modicum of consideration for the iniquitous lieutenant he sought to destroy. And for that, Alois had rewarded him at the time - permission. Permission to steal away the last dregs of his life, to end all the treachery he exhibited toward mankind.
But someone sought an end to the display, and now Alois stood as something that shouldn't be alive - something of a perversion to natural law.
A walking corpse, with all the facets and capabilities of the living.
An anticlimactic thump stirred him from his thoughts, and a car shuddered before continuing its trek down the street. As Alois scanned the asphalt, his golden gaze landed on a sizable raccoon lying in the street with its head turned outward at an impossible angle. Immediately Alois considered the condition of the skin from such an injury, as it undoubtedly entailed a stretch, but the specimen would've sufficed for his rogue projects. And that's all he really needed, wasn't it?
But as the misanthrope peeled the contorted animal off the ground, a prying passerby assailed him from the opposite end of the street. Alois watched the man for a split second, eyeing the traits that composed the organism assailing him. From long blonde hair to a considerable height to glasses perched expertly atop the bridge of his nose, he looked fairly unassuming and harmless - certainly not the type he'd expect to found an interest in taxidermy. In nonverbal response, Alois raised the corpse toward his mouth and feigned a bite into its still-warm flesh.
Afterward he stood slowly and forced the broken sack of flesh into the knapsack he carried for this express purpose. Once he cleared his throat, Alois attempted to respond with what meager voice he could manage out of his injuries. "Not dinner, but practice."
Another car passed, and Alois peeled away from the street.
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Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2013 7:25 pm
The first mock answer was a distinct sojourn in to a gallows humor he neither expected nor had experienced before in Destiny City- only in paper forests and houses of leaves. His mouth curled up on the one side, quoting in barintone clear, "Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,Even when their sorrows almost were forgot- So dinner it is not, after all. Practice? " There were not many uses for dead raccoon. Furrier, crack primitivist chef, anatomist, taxidermy? They all had interesting possibilities. "Hobby of working with bodies?" "Taxidermy?" It seemed the most logical. Furriers in this season would be using snares to see no damage done the pelt. The same with anatomy as it was no good to study from something that was smooshed like a pancake in odd places. And dinner wasn't the answer in the first place.
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Posted: Tue Dec 24, 2013 11:18 pm
Alois cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise, and regarded the paused blonde with a leveled glance. "Titus Andronicus? I did not expect a scholar in my midst." Were he still minding the bookstore, such a sudden quote would sound more becoming of the atmosphere. But on a sidewalk of a busy street, sporting roadkill at every half mile marker? Alois was loathe to distinguish the discovery between lucky and disturbing. But who was he to mock the company that refrained from blanching at his activities? There were still some rare specimens that forbade Alois from labeling himself a complete misanthrope.
Most passersby retched dishwater more readily than Shakespeare. And given that the cyclist was easy on the eyes - replete with amicable features and an expression not bathed in disgust or horror, Alois found it almost too easy to study his outward countenance.
The black-haired boy adjusted his burlap knapsack to rest more readily on his back, but he lingered for the time being. "Taxidermy," he confirmed with a mild rasp. His throat still ached desperately from the Plant Senshi's assault, and it demanded a thorough measure of self-restraint to avoid slipping long fingers beneath the scarf to massage the beleaguered skin. "I specialize in fowl, but zat does not bar me from more rogue projects. And sometimes it's prudent to practice wis' mediocre skin, to retain ze more rudimentary skills in ze craft." As a hobby that demanded a great number of talents from its practitioner, taxidermy required he maintain such skills through religious repetition.
"But," Alois raised an index finger to mark a directional shift in the conversation, "you already know more about me zan I would normally allow. Who are you, and what has you stopping on ze side of ze street to watch a stranger sealing away dead soldiers?" His gaze settled on the taller blonde warily; with no obvious motive, he fostered a mounting dislike for this stranger.ivynian alois says i don't trust youuuuuu mister pretty blonde man
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Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2013 12:00 am
Quenton's eyes first widened, then in pleasure half-lidded them with heavy bone lashes. He had met exactly one person in his lifetime that had read Titus Andronicus, let alone would recognize a quote. To meet a second who could do the same was of a special level of scholarly divinity. The accent was strange and familiar at once as the other spoke, or spoke-and-wheezed, leaving the impression that he might be just getting over or just getting into a bout with laryngitis. "Exactly that, actually. Its unusual to see anyone that isn't the department of transportation cleaning up corpses from the copses." The forest wasn't copsed, but if the other recognized Titus it was likely he would recognize the phonemic, poetic intent of stringing those specific words together for the pleasure of the play. Picking up dead things off the road is illegal is some states, but I couldn't tell you if it was here or not. "I'm a student at the University, actually. I was on my way back from errands. I study a lot of disciplines, but specialize in sculpture. ...so anatomy has some bearing in my field. I haven't taken it so far as corpses, yet. Fancy Providence though, that I was considering it recently. " "Are you familiar with Honoré Fragonard?" Strickenized '.....goth boy knows Titus instead of singing along to Lacuna Coil? '
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Posted: Sun Dec 29, 2013 10:08 pm
"If I didn't haf' a greater use, I would'f tossed zem into ze copses by now. " Ultimately he wouldn't have bothered with them, but such logic could be overlooked in the face of wit, as the blonde already proved. He would've expounded on the response had a cough not burrowed into the bottoms of his lungs, urging him to cover his mouth with the crook of his arm while he hacked up what tasted like a mixture of blood and phlegm. He grimaced starkly while he swallowed the conglomeration, for once wishing it didn't pain him so desperately to spit onto the sidewalk.
Perhaps he could've contended with his injuries alone, but the blonde senshi saw fit to double up his pain and misery should he survive the night. Offhandedly he considered prodding the stranger for any information toward the senshi, if by some chance he crossed paths with a battlefield executioner, but the sudden subject change would provoke far too many questions than he wanted to deal with.
Alois folded his arms across his chest, partially to obscure his hands from the cold and partially to quell the sudden, pressing need to smoke. Ever since his ribs floated in fragments along his side, smoking provoked far more harm than good. "It's an interesting scope of studies. I would not be surprised if you used zat anatomist bit as a pick-up line sometime." The misanthrope regarded him sharply, but the cool smile upturning the corners of his lips betrayed a modicum of mirth. Alois hardly jested, and what few jabs he afforded easily passed for insults in the right frame of mind. He knew he chanced a swift punch to the ribs, but perhaps that was what drew him to the decision in the first place.
However, the (regrettably) taller man's question did not slip past unnoticed. Alois ran a fingernail across his upper lip in contemplation while he sifted through dusty recollections for some accomplishment attached to the vaguely familiar name. Finally a ventured guess came to mind, and he rasped it aloud for validity. "Was he not ze one who rendered écorchés? I remember reading about zem at some point, but I'f never personally visited ze displays - assuming I am right." He found the flayed displays fascinating, though he knew little of their scientific validity. It sounded marginally tangential to their impromptu conversation, but Alois suspected he had legitimate reasoning for bringing up a vaguely recognizable name.
"It's best we don't linger on ze sidewalk in discussion - we might become anatomy practice for someone else, wis' ze assistance of a drunk driver." Besides, he wasn't interested in idling through conversation with a stranger; he visited this street with the express interest to harvest skins from the dead dotting the pavement, not fraternize with presumably lost scholars.Ivynian pffft blondie you don't even know
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Posted: Sun Dec 29, 2013 11:48 pm
The application of breeding desire to description of his studies has not occurred to Quenton before, and he wasn't certain he was thankful for the implications it gave. But it was clever, he had to admit, in a skeezy sort of way. "If I was in the market for cultivating instincts, perhaps I could use it as such. " "Checking out bodies over bodies. Hot, " the emotion wasn't there in the tone, though. Mirth a strange beast anymore to Quenton. Given the leave of the situation though, he didn't hide the once over. The other was well knit, if seeming to be ailing and better suited for a cup of soup and medicine than warm hands and shared breath. The sculptor was neither offended nor showed any more interest in the matter, and moved on, turning with the suggestion to leave the roadside for other pastures. The recognition of the french term in regards to the specific type of anatomical studies was encouraging, and brought a semblance of more lively energy to his eyes, " Exactly. I'm looking to make, work with another or commission in entire something similar. A mix of the écorchés with the practice of moulage- but modern materials like resins, theater silicons....and the oldest of materials. " It felt fast, maybe, to just approach the subject without preamble and more small talk or feeling each other out prospectively, but the accent sounded decidedly German- a people not known for their love of 'digging around the roots'. Nor do I have need of secrecy or patience in seeing this project come to some fruition. Here is a possible string that could lead to that possibility, and rather would I seize it than waffle timid-putrid in uncertainty. I will have no more of it."I've found and put a human skeleton on layaway. I don't know much of the local scene for those sorts of arts, however...and most are interested only in mounting heads for walls. " Profitable but useless. Someone picking up bodies off the road might be or know someone more in line with what I need.
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Posted: Wed Jan 01, 2014 5:29 pm
Alois shot the taller man an acerbic glare, complete with a budding snarl of distaste. "Don't do zat again." Afterward he elected to drop the subject; further elaboration on the point, including the stranger's confession that he wasn't interested in the carnal, would have only provoked further uncomfortable conversation. Simply, Alois hated being objectified, because he knew he had nothing to please the eye.
Additionally Alois found it regrettable that the blonde offered nothing more than a vague description of his intended endeavor, which only complicated his answer to the implied question. If the man solicited this subject upon learning of Alois' preferred activity, then he must be looking for either lavish praise for his concept or further information on how to proceed. "You could'f just asked if I knew someone who would entertain your aims," Alois returned with a sharp glance of disapproval. He greatly disliked the song and dance that stemmed from human interaction, as most were conditioned with this regrettably inconveniencing compulsion toward small talk to appease their intended target before approaching the true subject at hand.
"You are correct in zat ze happy medium between profitable ventures and affordable requests is mounting ze head of ze kill, but most taxidermists will accept a variety of subjects, depending on ze profit margin and amount of work involved: a bearskin rug, for example, to run a grand, a mounted bear posed to stand in ze corner of some hunter's trophy room for double zat price, or even a full reconstruction of a saltwater fish, painstakingly painted scale by scale, for a paltry eighteen dollars an inch. All zese prospects generate revenue and ample practice for ze many different components to taxidermy, but none are so out of ze scope of ze business as what you're looking for." Winded from the lengthy explanation, Alois paused in his walk with the scholar to lean against a nearby lamp post. Once he managed a few much-needed breaths, he continued with his line of reasoning.
"Your idea is a complete reversal of taxidermy. You're not asking for ze taxidermist to recreate a mold from a supplied skin, but instead to recreate a 'skin' from ze supplied 'mold', and not even a complete one at zat." The misanthrope gestured toward his spontaneous companion with an almost accusatory index finger. "Moreover, human anatomy is not widely studied amongst taxidermists because of all ze legal implications surrounding mounting human skin. At ten times ze elasticity of animal skin, not only is it a pain in ze a** to work wis', but for all ze legal baggage stemming from essentially reproducing ze image of anozzer human being, you won't find many practitioners will entertain your idea. But even zen, zat's wis'out considering ze aspect zat your idea isn't even taxidermy to begin wis'.
"But if you still want to pursue zis course, after my dissertation on how ill-received your prospect will be, zen zere is hope for it yet. Wis' most taxidermists, your idea will span ze lengs' of years, not only because of its complexity but because of ze common backorder maintained by ze practitioner. However, I know of a taxidermist who is open to working wis' ze human body despite its legal implications. He also runs no backlog due to no open advertisement for his business. Furzermore, he may only charge you ze cost of materials." If this man truly offered an opportunity to recreate the human body, then the possibilities behind learning human anatomy in such great detail proved an endless bounty for his activities within the Negaverse. Who was he to pass up such a golden circumstance?
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Posted: Sun Jan 05, 2014 10:59 pm
If he cared more, the reaction could have been entertaining- either the man didn't get or chose not to take the preemptive explanation that there was no actual interest. It didn't matter any more than the growled, implicit threat of the warning. What is it with these people? Athene hadn't gotten the direct question any more than this one apparently with his declarations that he should have 'just asked'. This luck of this task was getting less promising and more troublesome than the worth of doing the work himself. I would argue that 'reversal' is far from the right word. More like 'modified'? The workflow usually mentioned in older manuals involves measurements taken of the bones and body which are compared to anatomical knowledge, retaining the original skull and leg bones of the specimen and using them to create a mannequin of hemp wool and galvanized wire. Then the modern discussions about making plaster molds from an intact body and pouring cast forms in resin or polyurethane. So between the two workflows are the skills and processes that would be used, minus the organ reconstructions. But he didn't argue it aloud. This one wasn't one for listening to others, for as much as he argued his own view in belittling language. The youth was welcome to think little of him if he wished, spiting the initial pleasure of a shared knowledge in Titus. He hadn't been looking for a friend to begin with, there was ultimately no need to start just out of a brief regard. "Who, and how best is this person contacted?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 8:35 am
"Seance," Alois responded out of knee-jerk wit. "Or text." Another car drove by, and Alois grew increasingly aware of his acute dislike for humanity - something he thought he learned to mitigate, at least after he met Orah that second time. She managed to clear herself of all suspicions, through his clever probing of her medicine cabinet and other outlying aspects of her life. THe flower girl had nothing to hide, no reason to incite the misanthrope's incessant interest to deconstruct and destroy any chance of respect for another human. She was almost simple enough to be a youma in human skin, but she lacked the bite he grew fond of.
Alois stopped in their progression once more to cough into his hands; it hurt desperately, but the growing itch buried in his lung couldn't linger much longer. He winced afterward, and pushed off from the lamp post he leaned against momentarily. Small weaknesses. "On principle alone, what you're looking for is very different." He started in a softer tone, one that didn't agitate his injuries so greatly. "And I'm not interested in repeating ze same grueling projects just to scrape some money out of a hobby. Additionally, you provide ze opportunity to recreate ze human body, somesing I'f never found finance to attempt. Do not mistake my earlier assessment as a wholesale slaughter of your idea, as I am not most taxidermists."
The misanthrope still disliked his company, didn't trust the boy's pretty face or piercing eyes. He didn't trust the silence after Alois addressed the negatives to the stranger's prospects. He didn't trust himself to drop all interest in the (vaguely) proposed project to support that suspicion.
A car passed, and Alois' thoughts floundered in its wake.
Another car passed, and its tailwind plastered the German's bangs across his face unflatteringly. "Alois Scholz," he offered, as he scraped the hair away. Inwardly he spited himself for allowing his curiosity and maddening use for strange experiences to overshadow his wariness of the potential patron. "I will haf' secured ample workshop space soon; if you haven't yet found someone to pursue zat idea of yours, Titus, we can begin zere."
A third car passed, and the sunlight reflected from its windows to illuminate the blonde's face. It lasted but a second.
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 7:56 pm
The banter seemed leading that the answer was the other youth himself, and the notion was verified with patience and attention to his pronouns once he got to the 'not interested' and its following. The coughing and pain was indicative of worse than general malaise- either long sickness that had caused inflammation, chronic serious illness like whooping cough and its ilk, or injury. He would have offered the other his coat, but it would just be awkward, possibly insulting to one who was ...something. Cagey? Prickley? Were words even more ready to him with breath in his lungs I wonder if they'd come out less terse. Any number of reasons from poor mood to just being talked to at all. "Quenton Marinus." "The opinion of one other person on the street is hardly a slaughter to any idea. One rejection or many, another's expertise or my own research, I'll see it through. " The cars passing may as well have passed into oblivion for all Quenton paid them mind. His attention was fixed on gold eyes-lupine in nerves and wariness. There were shots of metal along his ear that hadn't made it to his features yet. The use of 'most' caught Quenton's ear, and stayed there turning in the consideration of the rest of this first impression. "You aren't as other taxidermists." That much was plain, even just going out to collect roadkill while being a goth and hacking his lungs out. But while there might be a definite aspect of what Alois wasn't, Quenton couldn't either ascertain what he was. A conundrum that may not even be answered by the end of their project, if it went so far. It was a pleasant enough prospect for a mystery, and the artist was comfortable with it. We do not need to be friends, we need only to work well and accomplish something worthy of remark. The rest will be as it will be.Sculpture and jewelry had given him habit enough of carrying a few business cards on his person, so he pulled out out from a pocket and held it out in offer, rather than ask the other man for his number in the street. Maybe giving the option of communication on his own time and terms would improve Scholz's mood. "When you have the space, I will bring the materials and we can talk about all the fine details over the sketches." "In short, a full body. Not just a recreation rote, but hinged like a thing to be open. One that within could dwell body in body, living in dead- draped with the viscera of human form. Starting thoughts would be where and how to craft the hinges and the overall containing form and scale- extra vertebrae...how far to differ from formal anatomy into a macabre elongation of form. I'll bring the sketches I've made, and you'll be free to draw on them directly if need be. Or onion skin. We'll see how each other works."
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Posted: Thu Jan 16, 2014 10:54 pm
"No." Alois paused a moment, eye drifting toward the horizon, but his focus soon wavered and he continued the trek across the stretch of road. Cars passed freely now, a mark of the noonday lunch activities. No longer could he scrape up a few kills without significant repercussion. The misanthrope lacked interest in validating his contrived story about a car striking him down during this very activity - much less so with a potential wealth of human anatomy watching. Alois found it likely that Quenton would see through that ruse.
The business card somewhat anchored him in the moment, as he dismissed the notion of scanning about in favor of examining the stiff scrap of paper handed his way. A clear font and engraved lettering confirmed Quenton's name, also evident by the tactile recognition from the back of the card. Contact information read clearly in blue ink, possibly navy, and general embellishments attributed to preformatted business cards completed its look. Should he find the need to take Quenton up on this endeavor, he had all the information he needed.
Six days at most, now. Six days and he'll acquire the studio he visited on numerous occasion. Six days and his ribs might not ache with the same ferocity he knew now. Six days and he had the first fresh opportunity to make money since he lost his job to his CO's outrageous demands.
"You're not looking to replicate ze exact anatomy, but to contain a person wis'in a person. But it's not quite an enlargement, as much as warping ze human figure... Else zere would be no need for added vertebrae. Zat's somesing of a rogue taxidermy specialty - to disfigure or recreate." But likely the man already knew that. He demonstrated enough understanding for taxidermy to solicit the idea in the first place, so the added piece proved a waste of breath. Alois huffed softly, a product of his growing discomfort with the entrapment latent in his situation. He lacked freedom, now, with these broken bones. An inability to move forward. He floundered now, battered and exhausted - frozen, perhaps. Stalled. Stopped like he should've died in the senshi's grip, some nights ago.
Alois cleared his throat and rubbed his neck absently. "I will call you once I acquire proper accommodations." If nothing else, he may finally have the space to prepare and mount much larger animals.
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 1:23 pm
Quenton's expression was impassive, save the unwavering fire of his focused gaze, during the small lulls of their converse. It was debatable if he blinked. "I will look forward to your call." He nodded to the other youth, using archaic, but honestly meant words, "Better health to you." He started his steps in a separate trajectory, pausing after a few to look over his shoulder, "Do you prefer Alois, Scholz, or something else?" Strickenized This one ready for a closer?
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 7:44 pm
The misanthrope held up an index and thumb, tilting to each side while he spoke. "Alois, or Scholz." Normally he would've added his disdain for nicknames, but his still-damaged ribs prevented further commentary.
The well wishes did not pass unnoticed, but Alois chose to refrain from comment. Gesundheit was not a word often spoken. Instead he departed from the street, toward the lesser roads leading back to his shared residence. As he crossed the street, his thoughts lingered on a mix between the project and his recent bodily limitations.
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