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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Nov 16, 2021 1:01:56 GMT -8
"If I had that pen in my pocket, I would be using that to sign off on a whole lot of things. Need to make a phone call to set up a meeting with a resistant party? Boom. Use that voice. Need to get information from someone? Grab their phone, make the call, use their voice, and boom."
The Winter aspect of the Fairest's mind was spinning with all kinds of possibilities. That was a pen that he wanted to have access to as well and Oren had expressed interest in doing professional work together in addition to getting to know each other better on a personal level as well.
"Yes, or at least I try to be. I have a deep appreciation for the art of storytelling and all of the different forms it comes in. My favorite way to express it is singing, but poetry is more accessible as you can carry a book of poems with you anywhere you go and either read it out loud with someone or hand the poem over to them to read."
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Oren
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written by Hiver
Posts: 242
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Post by Oren on Nov 18, 2021 7:05:05 GMT -8
"Share some with me. We can trade."
When Lucas started rattling off the benefits of having a shapeshifter on the payroll, Oren felt himself leaning in. Elbows on the table. This was one of those things where he saw a need. A specific need. One that he could fulfill. Completely.
It really didn't get any better than that. "If you're in need for some...voiceover work, you have my number. If it's something a little more creative you can call my agent."
Oren realized just then that contacting his agent could have meant two things, and both worked. Seamlessly. God, he was good.
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Nov 22, 2021 12:09:55 GMT -8
"Poem swapping, eh? I can't turn that down. One of my favorite poems by E.E. Cummings is Yours is The Music For No Instrument. There's plenty of sadness and music mixed in it."The Fairest cleared his throat and loosened his shoulders to get into get into the right frame of mind. He had memorized the poem by now since he had spent many a night reading over it when he was younger and trying to apply his own life to the lyrics. The Elemental would be able to sense the strength of Lucas's mantle flaring which depending on the Elemental's own relationship with grief, he may find comfort in the reminder of lost comforts from the past or sadness or any other emotion that could easily be mixed in with grief. As he recited the poem he brought the words to life by humming them. Unlike many a performer in Vegas, he didn't care for entertaining the masses. Instead he preferred intimate performances where he was able to connect with a small group of people or in this case with the other Lost in front of him. Once Lucas got going he found his grove and threw himself into the words. He spoke them in such a way that anyone listening could easily think that he meant them for Oren and Oren alone. "In this at least we have got a bulge on death,
silence, and the keenly musical light
of sudden nothing….la bocca mia “he
kissed wholly trembling”
or so thought the lady."
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Oren
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written by Hiver
Posts: 242
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Post by Oren on Nov 22, 2021 13:27:40 GMT -8
A bud blossomed unpleasantly. A memory steeped in a foreign feeling. The image of Apollo flickered and dashed away like an ember in smoke, only to be replaced by the image of his mother. She sat in a pew with a soft smile on her face. She was smiling at him. Oren never stopped long enough to consider the pang of grief. To invite it through dramatic work was one thing. But to be reminded of his own experience? It brought voices to the fore of him that he had not heard in a very, very long time. It was fair to say that the Elemental was enraptured by Lucas, the man who brought Cummings to life. For a brief moment, he both loved and loathed the work and the voice. And the man. "Wonderful. Just wonderful," Oren said quickly. It won Lucas a soft, golf clap. It would have been more enthusiastic if they were at a different venue, or if Oren wasn't seething on the inside. "Poetry really makes you think. It takes you somewhere."
He knew what he would say next. "I have just the verse for you." " April is the cruellest month --" The words dripped like honey from the cavern of his mouth onto the silver-glass of his tongue. And when his tongue was poised to speak, it stuck to the roof of his mouth instead. The verse had been stolen. Oren had been struck mute, his mind drawn blank. This was a crisis. He couldn't remember his lines. And in the absence of that structure something else creeped in like an angry mold or snaking ivy. It got away from him. "Breeding lilacs out of the deadland, mixing--Twisting Dancing Singing
Cutting Wetting
Wetted Appetites, the Desire For Something Real and Sinuous A Ritual At the Feet of Skull Thrones And Stale Breath Stale Bread Coated In Fungal Flowers Made To Roost In the Bud of Your Navel"
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Nov 23, 2021 1:50:24 GMT -8
The Fairest watched a fire come to life in front of him. A flame was never still. It didn't flicker or waver in any meaningful pattern without a gust of wind or other outside force interfering. A flame was far from perfect and so was Oren at this moment. His words came out like a broken chorus on an old phonograph that had a faulty needle. Just like when Riley and Fawkes awkwardly trudged through their lessons together, the Fairest didn't need Oren to be perfect in order to enjoy the poem. The effect his own recital had on the Elemental (or so he told himself) brought a new side of the Elemental to the surface that Lucas suspected Oren kept hidden. Summer Courtiers often masked their own grief in anger and they used their anger to drive their spears through their enemy. But if they were too afraid to look deep within themselves, how were they ever going to be fearless enough to stand against their captures who could force them to relive their most sorrowful moments? His thoughts pushed even further back to the night the two of them watched Loki burn down the hotel room. For the briefest of moments, a terrible desire pulsed through Lucas. He wanted to hit Oren deep in his chest to cause the flames within him to erupt out of him and consume them both. Would the fire burn them away the same way the titanic being had caused his skin to burn off of his hand and destroy reality all around him? Or would they be reborn in it? Before the answer came to him the terrible desire disappeared as soon as it reappeared and he snapped back into reality. Several of the customers were glancing over at them, initially having been drawn in by Lucas's performance. If Oren spun out of control they were going to draw a whole lot of unwanted attention to themselves. Said unwanted attention could bring hunters to their doorsteps. The magic from his magic began to fade causing the mist to disappate with it. When the fog cleared his eyes lit up like the stars that broken through a cloudy sky. There was no judgment, anger, or disappointment in the smile he directed at Oren; only warmth. "Vita nuova".Lucas switched gears, instead reciting the more hopeful verses from Oscar Wilde's works. As he neared the end of the poem, he got up from his seat so that he could kneel next to Oren. If the other Lost was up to it, he would place an arm around his shoulder as a comforting gesture to help him ground himself. "And in that joy I forgot my tortured past. " He paused and then spoke in a much softer voice that was meant for the two of them only. "Our joy is what truly frees us from our keeper's chains. As long as we keep but a flicker of joy alive we will be unbound."
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Post by Krakenbox on Nov 26, 2021 18:25:42 GMT -8
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