Yarva Demonicus Etrigan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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taxonomites2013-04-30 01:32 am
personaldemon) wrote in taxonomites2013-04-30 01:32 am
Entry tags:
[location- Sanctuary] [The day after Etrigan is summoned]
Morning dawns bright and sunny over Taxon. The spring weather is holding, the blue sky is filled with puffy clouds, and oh yeah, there's graffiti over much of the Sanctuary.
It's 'art', if you can call stick figures and vulgar caricatures in spray paint 'art'.
Some, but by no means all, features of this impromptu all-night graffiti session feature the following:
There's a vampire being kicked in the ass by a blond girl. Subsequent doodles down one side of the building seem to involve the use of stakes as impromptu sexual aids.
There is a crude rendition of a woman reclining amid skulls and demons, with an even cruder sidebar of a stick figure stubbly man in a costume apparently fapping away at the sight of her, captioned with a thought bubble saying 'close enough!'.
Two men, one wearing a cowboy hat and an outsized star stuck on his chest, and the other waving a gun wildly in the air, are engaged in very pornographic stick figure sex.
There's an obscenely well-endowed stick figure Catwoman being leered at by a drooling man in a sort-of bat costume, as the kick-off of a sequence that gets less and less G-rated (not that it ever was to start with) and winds up being apparently bondage with a pearl necklace. At least that might be a pearl necklace. (The artist got bored with detail, and the art on this one gets increasingly terrible.)
Not all of the drawings are sexual: there's a cartoonish vampire with an apparent collar of bones that leads back to the hand of a dour-looking figure wearing what might be a suit, who is tossing a (lovingly-detailed) femur and saying Hol, Bruder! in the speech balloon over his head.
Here's a curly-headed man with a vacant smile and a jagged line on his head, hands holding it open to reveal nothing inside, multiple question marks hanging in space above it. At his knees, a long-haired boy is kneeling, mouth open in a vapid, receptive 'O' that seems to be ignored by the man above him.
Here's a skull-- the artist spent time on this one, it's one of the better images on the wall-- with a cartoon heart above it and the words "KEEP TRYING!"
Here's a pointy-eared, long-haired man bent over with a doctor behind him, peering through an exaggerated monocle. Caption: "NO WAY WE CAN GET THAT STICK UNJAMMED, SORRY YOUR HIGHNESS"
A messy-headed, lanky youth uses an oversized magnifying glass to follow, hunched-over, a series of footsteps; he seems on the verge of walking off a precipice, but too caught up in his clews to notice.
A stick-figure girl with a sword walks away from a blob that, on close inspection, might seem to be a swaddled infant.
A dog, perhaps a dog anyway, howls at the moon while scratching at fleas with a hind leg. A collar around its neck reads REMUS.
A scrawny looking dragon snores at the bottom of one 'panel', oblivious to the sexual shenanigans happening above it.
An unkempt man with a fro and exaggerated pot-belly wanders around through the entire multi-character tableaux, with dotted lines showing his progress like a Family Circus strip; ever so often his uncertain progress is punctuated with a "WEED?" speech bubble.
Finally, there's a cheerful doodle of a man with a skunk-stripe in his hair blowing his brains out with a gun.
The artist has not bothered to sign his or her work.
It's 'art', if you can call stick figures and vulgar caricatures in spray paint 'art'.
Some, but by no means all, features of this impromptu all-night graffiti session feature the following:
There's a vampire being kicked in the ass by a blond girl. Subsequent doodles down one side of the building seem to involve the use of stakes as impromptu sexual aids.
There is a crude rendition of a woman reclining amid skulls and demons, with an even cruder sidebar of a stick figure stubbly man in a costume apparently fapping away at the sight of her, captioned with a thought bubble saying 'close enough!'.
Two men, one wearing a cowboy hat and an outsized star stuck on his chest, and the other waving a gun wildly in the air, are engaged in very pornographic stick figure sex.
There's an obscenely well-endowed stick figure Catwoman being leered at by a drooling man in a sort-of bat costume, as the kick-off of a sequence that gets less and less G-rated (not that it ever was to start with) and winds up being apparently bondage with a pearl necklace. At least that might be a pearl necklace. (The artist got bored with detail, and the art on this one gets increasingly terrible.)
Not all of the drawings are sexual: there's a cartoonish vampire with an apparent collar of bones that leads back to the hand of a dour-looking figure wearing what might be a suit, who is tossing a (lovingly-detailed) femur and saying Hol, Bruder! in the speech balloon over his head.
Here's a curly-headed man with a vacant smile and a jagged line on his head, hands holding it open to reveal nothing inside, multiple question marks hanging in space above it. At his knees, a long-haired boy is kneeling, mouth open in a vapid, receptive 'O' that seems to be ignored by the man above him.
Here's a skull-- the artist spent time on this one, it's one of the better images on the wall-- with a cartoon heart above it and the words "KEEP TRYING!"
Here's a pointy-eared, long-haired man bent over with a doctor behind him, peering through an exaggerated monocle. Caption: "NO WAY WE CAN GET THAT STICK UNJAMMED, SORRY YOUR HIGHNESS"
A messy-headed, lanky youth uses an oversized magnifying glass to follow, hunched-over, a series of footsteps; he seems on the verge of walking off a precipice, but too caught up in his clews to notice.
A stick-figure girl with a sword walks away from a blob that, on close inspection, might seem to be a swaddled infant.
A dog, perhaps a dog anyway, howls at the moon while scratching at fleas with a hind leg. A collar around its neck reads REMUS.
A scrawny looking dragon snores at the bottom of one 'panel', oblivious to the sexual shenanigans happening above it.
An unkempt man with a fro and exaggerated pot-belly wanders around through the entire multi-character tableaux, with dotted lines showing his progress like a Family Circus strip; ever so often his uncertain progress is punctuated with a "WEED?" speech bubble.
Finally, there's a cheerful doodle of a man with a skunk-stripe in his hair blowing his brains out with a gun.
The artist has not bothered to sign his or her work.
[voice] [unlocked]
That leaves him in the vast conversational wasteland of small talk. He knows how it functions, has even ventured into it a few times, but nonetheless tends to avoid spending the night. He sniffles and thinks about Jeremy Fischer. What does he even know about Fischer, anyway? What is there to know about someone like Fischer? It's not hard to tell the man poses him, or anyone, no threat, not here where Johannes hasn't even got a wallet to steal. He's just... another person, American, a bit scruffy, hard to understand. That's troublingly nonspecific.
That's all evaluating Fischer according to purpose, of course. Horst would surely think of something to talk to him about. He and Horst would probably be fast friends, language barriers notwithstanding. However it is that Horst does these things. Fischer. That sounds Jewish, Johannes supposes, and the man looks it; well, he hears America is better for them than England, anyway, though Deutschland isn't so bad itself nowadays. Still, that gives him a grudging grain of sympathy.
"I'm not so ill," he amends, cautiously, after a verging-on-awkward silence. "It's a minor strain of the influenza, I think, but my fever hasn't risen above a hundred or one or so degrees and it's on the decline--" Well, that's too much information. Lovely. Very debonair. "Never mind. It's only a nuisance," he says, gruff. "But this device has--its uses."
This topic has stalled in the air and is rapidly nosediving. Johannes peers at the graffiti again. "The vandalism. Is that out of the ordinary? Is there an 'ordinary,' here, by any definition?" He has nothing further to investigate, of course, but it's worth knowing Fischer's reaction, he supposes.
[voice] [unlocked]
"You need to stay hydrated and down the citrus, man. Get some vitamin C in you. Oranges! And chicken noodle soup, I always used to think it was BS but it's totally true, Mom Is Right. Nothing kicks the ass of the cold or flu like a pot of really good chicken noodle soup--
"Oh. Uh. Ordinary, uhmmm... well, I haven't seen anything like this before, no. I dunno, man, after that blizzard of doom I'm not really sure I feel qualified to talk about what is and isn't ordinary. Besides, I think you and I actually got here the same day! I was like a few hours before you. So I'm way more experienced in the ways of Taxon than you, grasshopper."
[voice] [unlocked]
Well, they're getting on now. In some respects. Not that this is remotely going to help, when Horst finds out, and it is a when, not an if.
"I have soup," he fixes on the safest point in Jeremy's baffling little tangent. He's having no easier of a time parsing Jeremy's curious slang through Jeremy's loud American twang, but damned if he's going to let him know it. "My brother's here, also, and he can cook; he's a bit of a nursemaid, it's in his nature. You've likely met him? It shouldn't be hard to tell him apart from the others--he's German. And a bit anemic." A thin joke. "I'm sure the vandalism means nothing," he says. "Someone's sense of humor. You shouldn't let it concern you."
Go home.
[I MEANT VIDEO OBVIOUSLY FOR THIS ENTIRE THREAD]
Jeremy doesn't say 'you don't really seem much alike'. He probably doesn't have to.
"That's cool though, means you got someone to sneeze at and all. Yeah, I think we've chatted a few times when I've been playing."
Jeremy has brought the tablet back to broadcast his own scruffy face rather than the walls, since apparently the impromptu art recording is no longer needed. He nods thoughtfully at Johannes's words, agreeing-- petty vandalism, yup-yup, seems legit.
"I'm thinking of getting a can of my own. Dude didn't draw me with big enough hair. If you're gonna 'fro, 'fro all the way."