9850/The Art of Madness

The Art of Madness
Date of Scene:	27 January 2022
Location:	Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	No Pink Giraffles were harmed in the staging of this scene
Cast of Characters:	Daniel Chain, Valerie Killmore

---

Daniel Chain has posed:
Tomorrow, she had said, and Daniel made certain he would be there to greet her.

He spent the night in that alleyway, which isn't as ridiculous as it seems. It's really no different than wherever and however he usually chooses to bed down, behind the same concealment veil and elemental wards he usually sets up, plus a quick cleanup spell to ensure he wouldn't be sleeping in grime. It's not as pleasant as bedding down in a park, true, but not the first time he's had to sleep on stone either. The concrete is, at least, a uniformly flat enough surface.

By daylight he studies the half-finished design with all the gravity of a sculpture studying a half-formed shape chiseled from rock. Foodstuffs are easy enough to come by -- water is pulled from the air, and there are always rats in an alley. When it comes time to while away the hours, he sits and rests his back against the nearby wall, retrieving his guitar from his case and beginning to play. His eyes lidding as he bows his head over the soft play of strings -- and as he drifts his thoughts away with the music, the magic comes out with it. Little eddying currents of air to brush stray trash away, droplets of water racing along along the walls and floor to leave little trails of clean in the filth before recrossing themselves. And slowly, steadily, the alley starts to become cleaner than it's probably been in years.

But only half of it. The mouth and and the few steps in, where he rests. The whole of the part where she's set left her design? That, he leaves untouched. It's her 'workspace,' and he'll respect it fully.

And so the time passes. Anyone who might find themselves drawn to the sound of music may stop and listen for a bit, most likely before shaking themselves and moving on. The magic in the music reflects his mood, and it isn't one of joy, or peace, or even anticipation. It's patience. Waiting. Soft, trailing chords echo in the alley to let the moments slip away, until the one they wait for arrives...

Valerie Killmore has posed:
This space, a space with a few paint cants, a ladder, and of course, the guitar playing musician. It's a space that was chaotic when Daniel arrived, but it has become considerably more hospitable for anyone who might arrive. People do come by for the music, drawn in, calmed from their day to day lives and appreciative of the space that the music brings. Space to be free from the world and all the ongoings that happen there.

It's all interrupted by the sudden arrival of Valerie. She doesn't come from the alley entrance, or the alley exit for that matter. Instead she comes from above, just a soft whistling of wind before she lands. Thud! A loud sound as she crashes into the ground and clatters a bunch of junk all over the place. Apparently she had a box of random scrap metal pieces that she was parkouring over roof tops with and then landed, hard, and the force back into the box sent many pieces raining over the alley causing clattering and loud metal crashing sounds. Tossing the box to the side, Valerie looks up at her work.

With a smile and a turn, she tilts her head back, to look at Daniel, then twists her upper body as she's still standing there, just kind of bending at the waist with a backwards tipping so far over that her hair is draping and touching the ground, but a normal human with normal human strength couldn't probably do this for very long.

"Good morning, or evening, is it afternoon? I should really get a watch, but who oh who would I stalk?" Lots of thoughts going off, and then she smiles, big, well as big as her narrow-ish face can muster, "Do you know some other music? Maybe something with big beats, or heavy chords? Turn that frown upside down, it's TODAY!"

Daniel Chain has posed:
" !! " Daniel's playing comes to a jangling halt, the young man giving a start at Valerie's sudden, and very unxpected entrance. Staring over in some concern, seeing her pick herself up with a great big smile, he relaxes after a moment.

"Good day!" he greets in return, deciding that's probably the best way to reply to all three. And pushing himself up and dusting himself off lightly, holding the guitar one-handed as he does approach her. "I do know some other music! And... I think I can manage some like you describe." Turning his head to look at her graffiti in progress, his expression eager as he looks back at her once more. "Will you finish it today, then?"

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Turning to stand on only one foot, she spins herself around with the control of a figure skater till she's twirled herself up to standing. In this position, she's facing away from Daniel and looking at the wall with her graffiti on it, "That very well may depend on you." A pause, then she adds quickly, "Probably." And with that she walks up closer to the wall, closer still, a few more steps, and then she stands, about a foot away from the wall, and then backs up. One step, two steps, three, and comes back far enough that she steps past you and looks from further back than where she started.

"You've had time to mull it about." As she says this she brings up her hand and circles it like the universal symbol for 'crazy' as she tips her head left and right at the same time, letting her eyes roll about. With a quick action, she's crouched, close, and squinting as she stares right at Daniel, looking at him with great intent, "Where are the road do you go? Neon Green... orblue?"

Daniel Chain has posed:
Daniel has indeed thought about it. Has given it a great deal of thought in fact, for most of last night and at several points thoughout the day. Some might think it ridiculous that he should turn it over so seriously, but for him, the thought that he shouldn't never even crossed his mind.

He still smiles, but the smile fades enough to become something solemn as he regards her, turning his head to follow Val's movements as she walks forward, and then back again. And so when she asks, his answer is ready: "Neon blue." Asked and answered, in the manner of his kind -- nothing more needed to be said, unless sought.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"OH!" Valerie's eyes open, and light up with excitement, "Great!" She starts walking forward and picks up one of the spray cans and she starts to shake it, "You made an excellent decisions. Now, now, I can finish!" She states and moves right up to the wall, shaking that can, excitedly, laughing a little, "Of course, neon blue! OF COURSE!" Lifting her head up and shouting to the sky above before she reaches out and sprays the can.

It leaves a quick spritzy trail of ... hot pink. Confused, furrowing her brow in doubt, she shakes the can again, and it's pink. It's still pink, "Nononononoonono." She darts back to the other spray paint can, shakes it, quicker this time, walking back up and spritzes the wall. PINK!

"What about hot pink? That should work, right?"

Daniel Chain has posed:
*blink* Daniel gives her a startled look as something that is very much not neon blue comes out. And cocks his head as she seems just as surprised as he is. Turning to give the wash of color another speculative look, and then looking back at her once more. "It will?" It's *her* show, after all. Or at least, that's his thinking.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
So, she starts to spray the wall, making sure to get at the various locations to start finishing up the lower part of the face for the cheshire cat. "You know that I never even got your name. There's power in a name, sometimes, if the person is a demon." She's speaking loudly so that her voice can rebound off the wall and go backwards, "I read that somewhere, in a book. I think, maybe it was in a movie." She stops, for a moment and steps back to look at the curve of the jaw line, and then takes a few steps to the side and continues to spray.

For Daniel he may see that the level of absorption of magic starts to increase, but even with something this big it's still incredibly mild.

Daniel Chain has posed:
"That's true," the young man agrees -- that she didn't get his name? Or that names have power? Either way, he answers her as he steps back, respectully giving her space as she begins her work in earnest. "My name is P- ..Daniel," he corrects himself. "Daniel Chain. It's a pleasure to meet you," he adds politely.

He had forgotten for the moment, that he was not actually speaking in the presence of another shaper, and almost gave his native name instead. But he can't shake the feeling that she's not dissimilar -- especially when he sees the 'threads' in his vision starting to concentrate. He makes no comment to that however, studying her work but letting her continue it as she will.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Moving to the side some more, getting some of the rough outline of the jaw complete, the image is now a cat ear, a jaw, and she bends over, grabbing up one of the shards of metal she got. With it in hand she walks back a bit, and just digs the metal shard into the wall, pushing it till has made a multi inch cut in the wall. With the metal shard dug into the building she just hits it with her hand to knock it flat instead of trying to dig it out.

"Pee Daniel, Daniel Chain. How do you know?"

Turning her head over her shoulder, she looks at the guitar holder, squints again at him, "I mean, for all you know, I'm a person who likes 1970s shag carpeting. Made of rya wool... you don't know." Then she grabs another one of those shards and goes higher up than the last cut, and digs it in again, knocking it flat. These trails are clearly whiskers at this point.

Daniel Chain has posed:
" 'Daniel' by itself is fine," the young man murmurs absently as he continues to study her work. He was assured that he had every right to that name, but it's always sounded strange in his ears -- far too long for a name. So he's fine having it shortened just to the given name at least (though 'given' in more than one sense).

He does look a bit surprised as the metal is simply jammed and flattened in place, but gives another absent nod as he sees the pattern emerging. But is brought back to the here and now by her questions. "I do know," he replies simply, blinking at her. "I don't know what either of those things you said are, no. But I do know it's a pleasure to meet you -- I know it because I feel pleased. I am pleased to see your work taking form," he adds, nodding towards her painting. "And I am pleased to meet the one who forms it." Simply asked, simply answered.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
For the third whisker, the highest one, pointing upwards at a bit of an angle, Valerie has to get a small running start and then she jumps, moving up, at great speed and with enough force that the last shard on that side gets jammed into the wall higher than she'd of easily been able to do otherwise. She clearly has strength beyond that of a normal person, speed as well, and doesn't care who knows it.

With her landing she has to walk back and she does a near effortless hop, and snapping that last one just like the others. Going back to her spray can she brings the nozzle really close to those whiskers, and sprays, making it fill in the groove she made and only coming out a little along the sides in a messy but primarily contained manner.

Another question, "You like people THAT much, that you are pleased... just being around them?" With a quick look to her side, she suddenly turns her whole body to face the direction of ... no one, she grips her hands into fists and tenses her arms along her sides as she shouts, "No! YOU HAVE problems! If I want ADVIiiIIiIIiiCE from a person who can't even dodge a building FALLING on them... I'd ASK!" Breathing a few pants, she turns back to her work, then a quick look to her right again, squinted eyes, and then back slowly to her work.

Daniel Chain has posed:
"Sometimes I do," Daniel answers. Absently bringing his guitar back up to his hands as she continues. Another surprise then as she makes that jump, although it would certainly explain how she managed to get up from making that kind of entrance she did. And he can't help but grin -- this is familiar to him too, in a way. Walls and not webs, but still it's appealing to him. Absently he begins plucking out chords as he talks. Not playing anything just yet, just an absent soft chime of sound to underlay his words. "There are so many different kinds of people -- sometimes similar, sometimes vastly different. It's interesting, to see what I may -- "

He stops though as she snaps off like that, voice and hands both stilling as he turns his head to see -- nobody? Glancing back to her, and seeing her turn back to her work. Taking a few steps past her and peering down the alley... but well, no. Nobody. And no strands to show anyone calling to her. But maybe the glamour he wears is blocking his vision of that, he reasons?

"But either way, that's not what I said," he adds, picking up the conversation as he turns to walk back to where he was standing before, closer to the alley's mouth. "I said I was pleased to meet *you*. You're a person, sure, but I'm pleased for the reasons I said I was." Some might take that as trying to feed a line to a girl -- but he answers that in the same friendly, but matter-of-fact way he's been saying everything else, having no problem with simply telling her so.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Picking up another sharp metal bit, Valerie grips it in her hand, tight, and stabs it into the wall, once, then again, then again and again, "You just don't understand. Do you?! People are worthless, bad, wastes of breathe, just laying about waiting to die. So, so, so sometimes, it happens, right? Yeah, boooom! And gone, vanished, forever." Stab Stab Stab, as she's chipping off pieces of the brick wall while gripping the metal shard more and more tightly.

Then Valerie throws her arms into the air and turns on a foot, looking right over at Daniel, "Ooooooh, pleased to meet ME? Huh? That just sounds like a person who doesn't know me." She's wandering, angrily, in a cycling S formation, like she's pacing but getting closer, her eyes twitching a little, "Me, Miss Hex. Oh, you won't be pleased to have met me after I blow off your leg, or head, or fingers! Noooooo, then you'll tell me how it was MY FAULT. Why didn't you secure the grenades?! Why didn't you make the explodey grenades all color coded the same? Huh Huh!?" She's clearly using 'you' to mean her, and talking from your perspective. "Cause EVERYONE thinks to make sure that the yarn is put away? Tucked, and not within trippable distance!? Everyone, just 1... little mistake, is all it takes, and then then... they hate you, for their leg being in the way of a fire that you just happened to maybe of started - but they can't prove it! It isn't MY fault you were asleep when it happened, in a room not up to snuff to resist fast moving plasma, is it? Is it MY FAULT?!" She's panting, and is close, now, having wandere to where you are, even though you weren't that far away at this point in the alley.

Daniel Chain has posed:
This is probably the point when most people would be backing away slowly, stammering something about remembering they had somewhere to be. When others would make the oh-so-unwise move of telling the clearly-unbalanced young woman something like 'You're crazy!' When some may freeze like a deer in headlights in the face of that rant -- or perhaps even, turn and run.

Daniel does none of these things. And perhaps that's due to the fact that he's been raised in a place where things like the horrors inside Valerie's skull, have genuine shape and form -- and that he has even helped give them such, in the course of his work. Perhaps it's due to the fact that as a crafter's who has himself been labelled 'mad' by his peers, albeit a bit more formally, and he's chalking all of this up to a fellow crafter's eccentricities. Or perhaps it's just with the simple idea that someone who looks to create something of life and color out on something grey and lifeless, is worth knowing.

Whatever the reasoning, the young man with the scar above and below his eye and the white streak in his hair, stays right where he is, turning his head to follow her winding path through the alleyway, until she comes back right where is he stands, panting like that. Slightly wide-eyed at her fervor, but his expression for the most part one of simple puzzlement. Cocking his head as he turns over her words, seeming to give them honest consideration. And then:

"You are a crafter. Did your work do what it was meant to do? What you were called upon to make it do? Then no," he replies with a shrug, his voice calm. "I's not your fault. Was it your intention that it should be used the way it was? Were you asked to care that it should? Or only asked to make things so others can use them? Those are things I don't know, and because of that, I can't answer your question in full.

"And you're right, I don't know you. How could I? We only met yesterday, after all. But I see what you do... " And now he steps past her, tilting his head back to look at the unfinished painting -- now partly a carving? -- on the wall. " ...and I'm enjoying seeing it take form. And I'm pleased to meet the one who is *making* it take form. Blowing off my leg or my head or my fingers *would* be a little... displeasing," he admits. "Please don't do that.

"But I'm sorry... I can't agree with the rest of what you said. That people are worthless, a waste of material." To him at least, that's what her words amount to. "I can't agree, because -- " And Daniel turns to her, an embarrassed smile on his face. -- I'm a person. And I don't feel that way about myself. And, I say it again -- you're a person as well. And I don't feel that way about you -- if for no other reason, that this -- " Nodding back over his shoulder. " -- is not a waste to me. So -- 'Hex,' you said your name was? A powerful name," he murmurs thoughtfully, half to himself before raising his voice again. "Hex... I'm still pleased to meet you, even if you don't feel I should be. I'm sorry if that offends you." And finishing that with a little bow of the head. "And if it does, I hope you'll at least still let me see your finished work."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"Do... what it's supposed to?" Wide pink colored eyes tremble, twitch, look a little left and then a little right, searching in the mess that Hex calls her mind for whatever answer might come to her, "Creations do what they want, what they will, when they will! There's a goal, a hope, a premise, but ... you can't be bogged down by things working like they should. Where's the free will?"

Her tension reduces, and she turns back to her art. She looks at it again and takes the shard she's gripped tightly in her hand and walks back up to the wall. Leaning against it, she puts her left cheek on the wall, turning her head, as she idly starts scratching whiskers into the other side of the cat, it's almost like she's hugging or cuddling the wall, but she's moving slowly, chip chip chip.

There's a deep breath in, and she lets it out slowly, "I'm worthless, a waste of material, but there are people I need to help still. Good people, honest people. You seem honest, but you are wrong." Still idly scratching into the wall, as she looks at it, her eyes squint some as she talks, "Liars, people putting up masks, wearing them, just want to rip off their faces, and show them to their eyes. Look! Look at how you present, smiling when sad, laughing when nothing is funny, crying when mad. Oh, but... what's in a name?" Hex asks, as she continues to build just one more whisker, slowly scratching it into the wall and chipping at it to give depth.

"It isn't a name, it's a description. It is powerful, because it's true. Truth has power, it's true that most people are wastes of their breathe, wasting away doing nothing but milling over which lie to tell next, who to stab in the back, what co-worker to say has a fat ass when they tell them at the water cooler they're looking GOOOD, and the diet's totally working. When the barista asks what size of coffee do you want, and you just pick the middle size, whatever it is, because you don't know, and you don't ask, and you don't look for their preference! I'm just here cause I've always come here, and every morning I fulfill my ritual of lies so I can go home at night and feel like I'm honest just because I lie... a little less." Moving her arm and pointing directly at Daniel, while still laying up against the wall still, so not looking, then back to her carving, "If all you are is a person, Pee Daniel Daniel Chain, then you might as well melt through the grates in the ground with the rest of the city, bubbling into the sewers, and getting cleansed at the water purification plant." A deep breath in, and a soft sigh out, defeated, "At least then, we could be drank by those who earn their place."

Daniel Chain has posed:
"I never said it was *all* I was," Daniel murmurs, unable to help smiling a little. But cocking his head as he takes in the rest, especially what she says about creations. Creations with a will? *That's* her specialty? If so, he's going to be even more impressed than he already was.

But he does take in the rest, and take it in quietly. This time, he doesn't challenge her words directly. Instead, he turns away as he brings his guitar back up from where he had been holding it, slipping the strap back on and taking a moment to tune. Giving a soft little strum before picking out idle chords. Not looking to drown or distract, but offering a soft little undercurrent of warm sounds beneath the scratching of the metal against the brick, and whatever words might follow.

"Your work seems very different from mine," he notes after a moment. "We -- those in my order -- we don't make creations that have free will, unless we're specifically asked to. The others would call it things like 'frivolous' or 'surplus to requirement,' a waste of effort and energy. I never really thought about giving *all* my creations their own will," he adds thoughtfully. "I wonder if they would turn out better that way. Hm! It's something I'll have to ask about, when I go back."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Rolling her body about the wall, like she's rolling down a hill of grass, she comes to a stop where her back is to the graffiti and her front is in the direction of Daniel. Hex smiles, and spreads her arms out behind her, stretching over the image as much as she can, which isn't much since she's small and it is big, "As a creator you don't... get a choice. YOU don't determine whether or not your creations will do as YOU WANT. No, no, no nononononono." She is shaking her head, starting to look down and going off into a little momentary world of her own.

"No! You don't get that choice. They do, they choose, do I shoot now? Or later? Do I explode? Or melt? Or kill? Do I need sharp teeth or a big grin, or BOTH!? It isn't MY choice. It's theirs, they get to choose, like the dead choose. They choose if they go away or stick around, they CHOOSE who they haunt, what they say, how they say it. But us, us who are ALIVE?" Bringing her hands together, she's going between rubbing them together, and tap tap tapping her fingertips against her other hand's tips, while looking, rather interested at them tapping.

She goes quiet, for a long moment, long enough to indicate it's time to speak or ask her questions, or answer some kind of question she may have asked. "But, what are the dead, if not works of art? Splatters, design, layout, it's all the same." She listens for a moment and looks up, to the guitar playing slowly, "Anything pulled taut enough, and strummed, can make music. Whether it is a bridge, a city, or people. It's a fundamental property of music." And then she brings up her hand and taps the side of her head, near the temple, "It isn't my fault I'm the one who sees it."

And then she chuckles a bit, shifting her fingers into a fingergun and pulling the 'trigger' by pushing the thumb down, and raising it quickly like she just shot herself in the head. She even tilts her head in response to the imaginary blasting of her brains, before letting that force spin her around and with one smooth, quick motion, she digs the second whisker into the wall.

Daniel Chain has posed:
That gesture actually gets a blank look before Daniel gives a little 'ah!' and a nod to himself -- it took a moment of mentally rifling through reference material before he could connect the gesture with the missing weapon, and the resulting cause and effect. He's not... entirely sure of the context here, but files that away too after a moment. He's still learning about interacting with other humans, and something like this could be important.

For the moment that pause gets no questions -- he seems far more interested in the ones she's asking, than posing one himself. Although her observation does make her grin. "Anything can make music? I like that! We -- the others -- they don't understand music," he adds, a bit mournfully now as his next strumming takes on a melancholy air. "They know what it is, of course, but they only understand it as rhythm, structure, form. That isn't 'music' any more than a material is a completed work. And 'art'... I didn't even know what word, at first. Not in the sense you mean it. But once I learned it... "

He trails off for a moment, fingers pausing long enough to let a chord fade completely before he plucks another one. " ...even now, I can't find the words to describe how I feel about it. There's nothing like it where I'm from either -- nothing worth more than 'aesthetics.' But here, this city, these people, who can make such things whenever they feel like it -- " Nodding towards her graffiti for emphasis. " -- and that they can raise whole *buildings* dedicated to it... ! It's one of the things I find so wonderful about this place and its people."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Confusion? Maybe just internal thinking, Hex is staring through Daniel as much if not more so than usual as he describes a place where music doesn't exist. Furrowing her brow she pauses in her work, "No music?" And she pulls up her phone that dangles from her waist on a chain. This thing has a big lens on the back, some metal bits and pieces to make it look like she made it from a car in the Mad Max movies, and she's tapping a few things into the phone.

"Have they never heard of ... The Internet?" She questions, emphasizing the words, and shakes her head, "There's unlimited music, well, maybe not unlimited, but a LOT!" With that she's walking over to Daniel to show the phone's screen, perfectly visible despite the sunlight, and she taps an icon when there's some coughing, and a quick progressive electric piano in the background. It starts, and Hex starts to do a 1,2,3 1,2,3 twirl, dance, taking steps and spin, more steps with a circling motion, like she's dancing with someone in a high school dance. The words come out, 'Don't Cut me, punch me, just let me go, into the nurse's office where I float away...' and Nurse's Office by Melanie Martinez starts up.

And now, she seems distracted. She might be listening, but her phone plays the song loud and she's holding her head up, eyes closed, as she does her dance. Quick little steps, twirls like she's got some kind of long dress on. She may very well run into Daniel if he doesn't move around her motions that take her all over this alleyway.

Daniel Chain has posed:
"Well, they do have a 'world wide web,'" Daniel remarks with a wry grin. "But not the one you're thinking of, no." He pauses though, peering interestedly as she brings up her phone -- those, he's casually familiar with, but doesn't actually have one himself or has gotten hands-on with it. Cocking his head as she dials up a song... and his eyes widen as it actually begins to play.

The lyrics may be bit off-putting, but those aren't what capture Daniel. Already bobbing his head a bit even when she begins to dance, a smile of pure, uncomplicated delight touching his mouth. But it's not long before he's dissatisfied with simply standing still and observing. Listening for the rhythm, fingers picking it out -- that simple piano chord driving the song now echoed with the sound of ringing strings. And as his own eyes become lidded, his head bowing, once more the magic seeps into his music -- the shadows of the alleyway seem to become a little deeper, save for the little space the two of them occupy. An emphasis, if not a proper spotlight.

When Valerie twirling dance threatens to barrel into Daniel, he steps away without even fully realizing he's done it. Turning on his heel even as he does, for a brief moment going back-to-back with her. And then turning about again, mirroring her steps from behind her, not unlike his counter-pacing with hear from their meeting of the previous day. His hands moving the whole while, strum and pluck to guide them along their paths.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
The dancing continues throughout the entire song, and then when the song stops, Hex stops. She looks back at her art and lines it up, kicking up another metal shard that had been on the ground, and with her fancy footwork it comes up to her hand like a deadly ball. Catching it, she tosses it at her work of art, from an angle where it spins, and cuts the last whisker into the picture.

"Music! See, it's everywhere." If Daniel is using his vision, as a note, her phone is definitely Magic. It's pulling in and pushing out streams of magic, a visual of what it might look like for a normal cellular phone receiving and transmitting frequencies that allow it to communicate. If he could see those too, he might notice her phone doesn't at all use them, but at the very least he can probably tell her phone is magical much like her paint, her, and the uzi she seems to like enough to carry it near everywhere. The ladder isn't though, that's just a ladder. "Now, where, was I?"

Moving up to her art, she grabs a spray paint can again and starts spritzing it about the image, forming the other side of the cat face finally. It's biiiiiiig grin, sharp teethy being quick spritzed in to give it a scratchy look. "There wasn't a lot of music for me growing up either. Unless you count the sound of my own blood pumping in my boxed in ears, or the sound of the neighbors pounding one out after a big fight. There's a kind of music to that, a bit of a thud thud, thump bump, smack, Don't tell me I'm her father, ain't no possible way. No of course, I'll pull out. Bump bump crash, thump. Whoops." She says, with a serious tone, not laughing or seemingly making a joke. With more spritzing along the way, "I grew up around here. Hell's Kitchen, it's kind of a shit hole, but a shit hole with treasures that abound. Usually inside the glove box of a car, or the wheels, or behind brick vulnerable glass. But..." She holds up her hand a little with her index finger pointing for emphasis, "Treasures nonetheless. Where'd you grow up? Sounds like a kind of shit hole it's own if there wasn't any kind of music capable internet."

Daniel Chain has posed:
The way she puts the final touch on her 'whiskers' gets an impressed look, and her phone gets a *much* closer one -- Daniel doesn't know much about technology, but from what he's seen and heard, for the most part they don't play well with mystical forces. TVs filling with static, radios whining and picking up strange frequencies, and so forth. He hasn't gotten to test any of these himself simply because he hasn't managed -- or had the need -- to get his hands on any. Of course, now that Hex has demonstrated way to learn even more about music, that might change.

That's for later, however. For now he steps back as their dance draws to a close, once more clearing space for her work. And once more his fingers turn gentler on his strings, plucking out soft chords to underlay their words--

Those however, come to a jangling halt when she starts going into the kind of 'music' she grew up with. And if she chances to look over, she'll finally see Daniel with a look other than confusion or an easygoing smile -- a look that's utterly aghast, shock that starts to veer into outrage.

His mouth slowly closing as she talks about growing up, and the way it was so. Not UN-like parts of is life... but a very different framing. Yes indeed. By the time she asks about his own circumstances, his expression is carefully composed once more. "Someplace very, very far away from here," comes the murmured answer, bowing his head over his guitar as he gives another quiet strum. "A 'shit hole?' Perhaps. Some would call it Hell." Because some actually do. "But... I was kept safe. Taken in. There were times it was hard, but they were meant as lessons. The things I learned -- I suppose you could call them treasures," he adds thoughtfully. "Many regard knowledge as such, yes?"

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"The more you know, gotta know, yep yep, hell is knowledge." Hex mentions as she is finishing up the cheshire cat's teeth. "Know hell, know it, that's the way you can handle anything. If you've been there, if you've looked, or seen it, you know nothing is bad, nothing is worse..." And then she smacks her head against the wall, and then again, and again, a few more times, till she gets up and wobbles a little, moving down the wall, before banging her head against another location. She does this a few more times. Cracking the wall in places, but after she's done it a handful of times she steps back, wobbling a little, and grinning, "Art."

Indeed, the cat's teeth now have blood on them, over their hot pink spritzy colors, making the Cheshire Cat look much more mean or creepy versus mischievous. And then she's grabbing the ladder, dragging it, letting it make that metal on chalk board type sound as it drags along the cement so she can setup to finish the remaining upper portion of the cat's face and its second ear.

There's no looking back at Daniel, as she talks, and listens, she's working. So she misses his 'aghast' look at her back, "Treasures, everywhere, broken bits of things that can be put together ... people just throw them away. Like people, that are more than just people. Tossed into the gutter, out on the street, behind the dumpster of Frank's Pizzeria late at night just so no one notices till the morning, after the rats have gotten to them. You know, treasures. I suppose knowledge could be considered such, but knowledge is power, not treasure on its own. I could KNOW that pink is the best color, and giraffes are the best animals, but there's no treasure till you find a little baby pink giraffe. Which, is very hard to find... did you know that? I know what you're thinking, pink is a very natural color for giraffes, it should be rather abundant, but they aren't. They were hunted long ago, one of my friends told me this when I was little. He was a pink giraffe, else I'd never of believed him." A few nods, as she's still spraying paint, and her forehead is bleeding little trickles of blood down her face from her bashing it into the wall.

Daniel Chain has posed:
Daniel starts as she suddenly bangs her head into the wall, immediately stepping forward -- but stops when she does it again. And again, with purpose. And more times still. His playing stops, his hand raising, but he makes no move to stop her. Frowning still, but this *is* still her work. Isn't it? She's the one who decides how to go about it.

And indeed once she finishes, he can see there was method behind the madness (this bout of it, at least). But the frown stays... blood can be material, he knows, certainly. The problem is that in his experience, the ones who spend their blood to make their work, don't always have full awareness of what it conveys. Or what it costs. Not all the material is *material*, after all.

"I have seen the things people discard," he agrees. Sleeping in the alleyway wasn't his first experience with the unheeded paths of this city. "Sometimes I'm confused by what I see. Even if they don't know how to break it down and repurpose it, some of the things seem perfectly serviceable as-is. Alhough I've never seen a 'giraffe' myself," he adds thoughtfully -- his education of this world didn't include that, for whatever reason -- "But if I find a pink one, I will let you know.

"Do you want help with that wound?" he asks abruptly. "It looks -- distracting." Some might see that as an understatement, but given these two and the here and now, probably not so in this case.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
And with a few more flourishes, a bit of spritzing, and the use of the ladder while wobbly, it is finished. Hex hops off the ladder and stumbles a few steps before walking back, and back and back, to turn around. She puts up a camera square with her hands and smiles, "Done." Then back to Daniel she shakes her head, laughing lightly, "This wound will grow up big and strong, if you help it. It'll die a long and festering death if you let it." Not, clearly, one who is great at first aid.

With this though she's headed back to her ladder, to kick it's legs out from under it, collecting it, walking past her uzi to pick it up, and she turns back to Daniel again and her face gets an 'awww' kind of look to it, a moment of received kindness as the talk of giraffes happen. "You will? Really? Most would just keep the giraffe for themselves. Once so common, hunted to near extinction, but we'll help them. If you find one, I'll be its protector, now and till the end of time." She sniffles a little, her eyes are getting a little watery, "It's just, so, c-cruel, that they never had a chance to flourish." A pause, and she looks up, "Thank you. Pee Daniel Daniel Chain, if you find one, and bring it, I will bestow upon you an honorary title of friend." Is that an honorary title? Why is there a cost to friendship? Whatever the source of her words, she's very emotional right now, starting to mix tears with trickles of blood. "Since my work here is done. I've got to go finish up some other art, make it my own, and raze those art buildings you were talking about before." Raze and Raise sounding exactly the same, "Till we meet again, Pink Giraffe Protector, first class."