there was an exquisite poison in the air

[depicted]

Characters: Dorian Gray and various!
Date: April 4th-6th?
Location: All over Keeliai!
Situation: Catch-all log! Dorian will be doing all the things that I worked out for last CR meme.
Warnings/Rating: Default PG13.
Additional: Am I missing something? PM/Ping me. I do not have everyone added on plurk so I think I may have missed a few! Also, pick your format. I'm happy with either.

Comments

[depicted]

Fav's gone. So.

[So, Steve knows.

That smile again.]

So I'm not one to pass up the chance to use your good heart against you. Cheer an old immortal up with someone pretty, youthful art, won't you?

[usavatar]

[Oh.

Yeah. He knows. He rests a hand on Dorian's arm, the only comfort he can think to give. He'd ask if Dorian wanted to talk about it, if there was anything Steve could do - but they're already doing what they can. And clearly, Dorian doesn't want to talk.

So Steve does the next best thing and honor's Dorian's request, leading the way down a short hall to the room he and Peggy arranged as a sort of studio. He stops before he opens it.] I'm - all I'm going to say is that you don't know if it is pretty or youthful or... anything, really. I mean I'm not terrible, but it's a hobby.

[He's nervous. Peggy doesn't say anything about it, Bucky just doodles stick figures on the corners of unfinished sketches. Steve has never had anyone ask to see his stuff before. Even if it is bad in Dorian's estimation, Steve hopes it's enough to distract.] Don't be disappointed I guess is what I'm saying.

[depicted]

[If nothing else, Steve's nervousness is an easy distraction. It's sweet and charming and exactly the sort of thing Dorian finds so endearing about the boy. This smile is more genuine, the warmth reaching he corners of his eyes.]

I'm not asking you if you're ready for the Grosvenor Gallery, Steve. I just want to see your work.

[usavatar]

[He opens the door like he's going to the gallows, stepping inside and out of the way to let Dorian have full access to the room.

He even manages to stay quiet for two, three seconds.]

It's a really different style than what I was taught - the materials are... They're a lot better quality than what I could afford, for one thing, but they also interact completely differently with each other and the paper they have here.

[He takes a breath like he's about to say something else and then just... shuts up, taking an at ease position and refusing to squirm.

The paintings themselves - most of them are paintings - vary. There are a few attempts at a more traditionally Western, realistic style, but those quickly give way to a few small Gong-bi styled portraits and ranks of Shui-mo, mostly landscapes, all the ones closer to the door exhibiting smudges or mis-strokes or technical errors. Inks ground too thick or too thin. Closer to the far wall and the window are his newer ones.

The most noticeable thing about Steve's work is that errors are never repeated. At least not errors in technique. He's always been a fast learner, as far as information was concerned, but ever since Project Rebirth his physical instincts have gotten sharper. Have only gotten sharper. It shows when he trains, when he fights. Every blow and block is an adjustment learned, a tweak to muscle- and sensory-memory, the exponential advancement of superhuman tactical intelligence coupled with perfect physical and mental harmony. Uncontrollable and unchecked improvement.

It shows in his painting, too. Scenes from the turtle rendered in black and gray, getting more dynamic with each execution. Eventually it changes to New York city scenes, one of Belvedere Castle done in a black and white cross between the detail work of Gong-bi and the vitality of Shui-mo. Then come colors, added with hesitance at first, until the latest work which is almost entirely colored inks.

Like most of his real achievements, the one Steve is proudest of (and most attached to) stays tucked behind the others, on the floor in a corner of the room. It's Times Square, painted twice, one image done on top of the other. The first is in thick black and gray inks, an unfriendly depiction of the intersection of Broadway and 7th, the electronic billboards frozen in blurry motion, the sidewalks and roads populated by gray cars and people.

The second image is done in colored inks watered down enough to be transparent, a ghost that follows the same strokes as the first painting and brings some small amount of life to its lines. Old cars, people in old styles, buildings with old ads. Something familiar and lost.

Steve isn't looking at Dorian or the paintings. He's looking at... the roof.]

[depicted]

[Dorian takes his time exploring the room. He knows Steve will be nervous, so after a touch for comfort (a friendly punch to the shoulder, to still tease him about his discomfort at Dorian's own ways of showing affection) he leaves him alone.

But of course, he always would have, even if Steve didn't seem to need attention off of himself. Surrounded by so much art, what could he do? He starts with the older ones, and he can tell they were the first from the mismatch of style and medium. He inspects them with an interest in how they might turn out with better materials. And then he moves on, seeing the passage of time in the movement from inexperienced to amateur to skilled.

It's when he gets to the New York paintings that he stops the most. Art is beautiful or it's nothing—one of those little ideas that has become almost an ideal. There is substance on these flat surfaces. He follows them along towards the window, tracing an emotion through the seconds or a life through the years.

He takes up the piece on the floor. Gently lifts it to his eyes. He understands it.

Dorian waits a moment for his throat to clear. Then he speaks.]

This one is your best.

[usavatar]

[He isn't sure what to say at first.]

I did it after we talked, actually. In the cafe. I had the one underneath already, but after... I wanted to add something.

[depicted]

[Dorian, somehow, had thought that the top would be painted first, and what was underneath after. But then, that is a difference between himself and Steve Rogers. Dorian wants to reach back through time to a past he can never live again. Steve is still living there with the present forced upon him.

Or so Dorian sees them.]

It is incredible work. How long have you been working on it?

[usavatar]

That one in particular? A month, all told? Or around that. I've been fiddling with the inks and brushes since I could afford them, so six months-ish.

[He's fidgeting again.] You really like them?

[depicted]

[A few fingers briefly touch Steve's shoulder.] I really do.