musas-muse

[musas-muse]

@surejess​

Sela’s head bobbed around the costumed figure, the bold colors and general shape of the garment leaving little room for question as to what the person was meant to be. “Jess?” She questioned the clown lightly, only a fraction of uncertainty sneaking it’s way through. “My friend, is that you under there?”

#Jess. #jess: halloween 1998 #c23event: halloween 1998

[musas-muse]

@smitebound​

“And here I thought that pirates were supposed to drink rum.” Sela gave the pirate a cat-like smile, one to match the leather suit that covered her skin. “Happy Halloween, Shaw.”

#EZRA. #ezra: halloween 1998 #c23event: halloween 1998

[musas-muse]

@hollandbright​:

Honestly  she  didn’t  really  know  how  she  ended  up  here.   Out  of  all  the  places  in  the  city  this  wasn’t  really  her  scene,   but  Holland  was  tired  of  doing  things  she  normally  did  and  she  wanted  a  break  from  the  stress  of  the  whole  situation  she  was  dealing  with.  “Oh,   um,   hello.”  Holland  had  always  liked  music  more  than  anything  else.   But  art  was  nice  too,   it  just  always  made  her  feel  sheltered.   “Wow.   There  are  some  pretty  pieces.”   She  glanced  around.   “Oh,   water  will  be  fine.”

Sela drank in the praise, even if it was meekly offered from the young-looking redhead. Though somewhat rudimentary as far as compliments went, it was the first time that someone called her work ‘pretty’. Frankly, she agreed; the terrified faces so softly encased in stone had a certain.. delicate charm to them that few truly picked up on. “Thank you, my dear.” She cooed, glancing at the statue sitting here, at the entrance. A man left in mid-scream, covered in vines of large-leafed ivy; the details perfect in the soft grey of the stone. “I do my best to add a.. slice of life to my work.” Then, smile still spreading her lips, she leans down to pick up two bottles: one a sparkling mineral water, the other flat, and offers them both to whom Sela suspects is just a window shopper. 

#doing it like this for the tracker! #holland. #holland: grand opening

[musas-muse]

@ascrowesfly​

Levi isn’t someone who has a lot of opportunities to wear a suit; it’s just not who he is, and not the sort of events he attends. Tonight, though, is special, and if he’s being perfectly honest with himself, he’s been looking for a good excuse to wear this again. The Parisian suit he was gifted is obviously expensive and immaculately tailored, which means that for once, he fits right in with the rich-looking crowd milling about Sela’s new gallery.

Staring down one particularly intricate sculpture — he wonders what other people think of Sela’s skill, to so accurately reflect these delicate stems and leaves, veins and fingerprints in perfect stone, when he knows the truth — Levi has his hands shoved deep in his pockets to avoid touching. Sela’s voice distracts him from the temptation and prompts him to turn, and the smile he offers is rakish.

“Thanks,” he says genuinely for the welcome, and the offer. “Would love a glass of champagne, actually. And the grand tour?”

"Little bird! I hardly recognized you!” Sela cooed, giving Levi an impressed once over. “So this-” A gloved hand gestures to the impeccably tailored suit that he’s wearing. “-is what I missed at Xavier’s gala on New Year’s? Mm. That is regrettable.” Sela shakes her head with a disapproving click of her tongue, turning her body enough to be able to grab one of the still cool, already poured, glasses of champagne. 

She offers it to him with a rare, genuinely grateful smile. “I appreciate you dolling yourself up for my little shindig,” then, softer, still truer, “..and for coming in the first place.” Sela allows for the sentimental moment to linger, briefly, before clapping her hands together; her smile widening. 

“You know how I love to show off-- of course I’ll give you a tour! All you need to do is choose whether we start with the left or the right.” Her hands unclasp and resume their Vana White impressions, indicating to the two double archways. 

#redoing it for the tracker blah blah #MURDER FRIENDSSSS #Levi. #levi: grand opening

[musas-muse]

@hinahqs​:

   hina had always been very adamant that one could be both a scientist and an artist. she wasn’t particularly great herself but the point still stood and she would let her professor scientist self enjoy it. however, she wasn’t really looking to buy. her walls were full of bright coloured paintings to match the otherwise quirky decor and items so had around her apartment. “oh, thank you so much.” the woman nodded towards the other. “i’ll take champagne, if that’s okay, thank you.” hina smiled but then her brow furred. “it’s an interesting name for a gallery but one i can appreciate without knowing any context.” she chuckled, mainly to herself.

Sela’s smile stayed in it’s natural place, while her voice flowed smooth and cool as she echoed the other’s chuckle. With a nod she turned just enough so a gloved hand could lift a glass of champagne that’d already been pre-poured and offer it the kind looking woman. “Well then,” Sela starts with a pleased hitch, her smile turning a smidge smug. “Allow me to provide some context: The Gorgon’s Lair is a gallery that features sculptures from one artist, exclusively.” She gestures to the marble depiction of a terrified Adam, important bits covered by marble foliage seemingly carved with meticulous attention to detail. He’s her get-them-through-the-door attraction that’s been proving to be quite useful. “I am the gallery’s owner, featured artist, and Gorgon herself:” A pause, and Sela turns back with a wide, award-winning smile. “Medusa.”

#doing it like this for the tracker! #hina. #hina: grand opening

[musas-muse]

Who: open What: the grand opening of The Gorgon's Lair When: September 17th, 1998 (a whole month later than originally advertised, and that’s definitely not my fault)

The opening of the large doors causes a brief flash of light at the gallery's entrance that catches Sela’s attention, which in turn has her politely excusing herself from a pair of long time clients that had come to show their support. With a smile, she makes her way to the newcomer; the hem of her long, white gown swaying gently with each step. “Hello there! Allow me to welcome you to The Gorgon’s Lair!” Her gloved arms spread wide with an artful flourish, each pointing to their own elaborate archway-- the two true entrances to the gallery itself-- as she comes to a stop a safe distance away. “Can I offer you a glass of water or champagne while you wander?” 

#i haven't decided on a cap for this yet #but i figured this was easier than doing a starter call for the grand opening #anyone and everyone is welcome! your muse won't have to buy anything #and there'll be extra people around so there might not even be any threats! #maybe #:birb-brows: #open: the gorgon's lair #c23starter

[musas-muse]

hqwestwood​:

    “backstock.” irena repeated with a large grin on her face. “look at you go, i couldn’t be prouder, you’re really flourishing in testing times. what a testament to your character.” the woman spoke as if her opinion meant anything but it was her mission to be an influencer within the brotherhood and she had to act like it. irena westwood was a chameleon, one that could mould in a situation with different people but it wouldn’t change what she was. there were many mysteries about her, ones that she would try to keep concealed but would always come out if she was threatened.

    widening her eyes at the statues, she nodded and crossed her arms. “what emotive pieces. though, not appropriate for the living space, i can imagine them on my balcony.” they would make quite the statement there. the thought of that made the woman chuckle to herself. “in all honesty, i wanted to use this opportunity to support you by checking up on you, in person and monetarily.”

Sela chuckles, the spark alighting in her eyes. Irena never failed to amuse when confronted with the actual work she did. “That depends on how bold you want to be.” Which, judging from her wide eyes and sudden hesitation, was very little. Still, Sela turned to face the older woman, bowing her head slightly in thanks. “Well now thank you, dear. I will always take your money.” She gives the other a cheeky grin before allowing it to melt to something more genuine. “But really, I’m doing just fine. Come, let’s chat in my office, hm? Away from prying eyes and ears.” She waves a gloved hand and leads Irena to the still plastered walls of her personal office. 

She takes her seat behind the grand marbled desk and gestures warmly to one of the adjacent chairs. “Though I thank you for checking in, I must say it’s hardly needed. I’m still riding the high of our most recent success, after all.” That, of course, being the destruction of the Essex House. Sela laughs, lightly but truly all the same. “Aren’t we all?”

#irena. #irena: little blessings

[musas-muse]

preholocene​:

         joseph doesn’t question the car that he’s led to, nor does he question her obvious instruction to clamber inside. while still fearful for his own life ( and whoever she might want to set him against ) that same fear keeps him from trying to act against her. she would set that other mutant on her, for sure. and then on everyone he’s ever met. the sin of what he does in her presence will stain his soul, he thinks, but less than the carnage she would bring forth in the absence of his cooperation. he’ll have to manage his own spot in hell.

         “i didn’t used to be able to,” he starts, swallowing thickly. “control them, i mean. until recently. i don’t know for sure that i’ll be able to.” miserably, joseph is almost certain that’s what she’s hoping for. if he becomes something dangerous, all she has to do is lead him toward whoever she wants to harm. “i don’t even know if there’s a… limit on things i can become. i just know they’re all extinct, and that… i’ve never been the same thing twice.” not that he recalls, at any rate. and he doesn’t even get the luxury ( or is it punishment? ) of that! 

Even though she asked the questions, and genuinely wants to know and has a vested interest in the answer-- listening to Joseph stumble their way through the fear to answer her only reminds Sela of why she so rarely attempts to get to know those under her employment. Naturally, she agrees with them-- all should fear her. But every so often, it really would be far more convenient if people could just get over it long enough to answer her questions.

Still, as Joseph struggled, there she sat. Waiting. Near unblinking. Until finally, all she gave them was a simple, unreadable, “Hm.” Sela inhaled a deep breath, checking her own annoyance, then, “I’m going to be honest with you, Joseph. It’s a very interesting gift.” She’s a little reluctant as she speaks. “One of the more interesting ones I’ve come across lately, actually.” It’s the closest thing to a compliment that she’s given in ages. They should be honored. “And your little school helps you.. do what, exactly?”

#:angelbear: #also i'm sorry for her #she's so fucking rude #Joseph. #joseph: intimidation check

[musas-muse]

terpsichorist​:

“i’m terribly sorry if i startled you,” margot says sheepishly, “and—it’s weird, isn’t it? sad, too, because this is my favorite place to rent movies. i can’t find ballet documentaries anywhere else. and you know what’s worse,” she moves just slightly closer to speak quietly at the woman, “is that there’s this smaller video store three blocks away that’s becoming more popular. they’re probably doing a better job cataloging… or maybe it’s because they have an x-rated section.”

Sela eyes the space between them as the woman edges ever so slightly closer, but shakes her head at the worry anyway. “Oh, I think I know the one you’re talking about.” Her eyes narrow and her voice drops low. “It’s absolutely because one third of the store is for adults only. I tried renting a title from there last month and I got the porn equivalent anyway.” She straightens with another firm shake of her head and sighs, before a memory clicks in her head. “For your problem though, I don’t know if you’ve already looked, but, there’s a little..” Her hand waves as she tries to think of the correct word. “Dance museum, I guess you could call it. In Queens. It’s very small but they have a selection of videos to rent dedicated to different styles of dance. I’ve seen documentaries there before, you might try it.”

#Margot. #margot: block-busted

[musas-muse]

samson-clemens​:

Samson remains oblivious to his obvious tell: it feels more forced when he drops nicknames. Like he’s playing a part, appeasing a client. That may have to become the way he handles other BH members. If only he could convince them all it was nothing personal, that he wouldn’t sell a single soul out. Hell, he wouldn’t even go to the other side if he knew they’d leave him be. Samson’s not always stupid though, he knows that’s a fantasy. 

Makes it feel almost bittersweet watching Sela light up, go through in detail exactly how she gets away with it. Samson gets up to have a look at the portfolio. Anything fine object, expensive. The disparity between Brotherhood members never seemed so stark until now. It’d be easier for Sela to make a run for it, keep herself safe. 

He begins to flick through her portfolio. It’s morbid, really. A gallery of her kills, hidden in plain sight. Beautiful, though. 

“Genius.” Giving half to the next of kin does make him laugh, “I’d assume half the time it’s next of kin commission’ you!”

“A little dark, but clever,” he flashes a fanged smile, of course it’s going to be a little dark. She kills people for money. If Sela were the one to get him for defecting, at least she’d have something to sell after.  He points at one image, a terrified looking man in a suit, “Who’s this?”

Sela’s smile doesn’t waiver-- in fact, it seems to grow as she drinks in his praise. “Thank you, my friend-- for recognizing true genius when you see it.” Pearly white teeth flash back at him with her-- only half-- tease. She doesn’t correct his statement, mostly because while the next of kin aren’t usually the ones that actually commission her-- they are the ones that end up buying the sculptures more often than not. If they can afford it. 

Her smile does finally fade as Samson picks a photo at what she assumes is random to ask about. Leaning forward to get a better look at the little gold-inked number in the top left corner of the first photo, the corners of her lips turn down in an almost chastising expression. “Now Samson,” She begins, a gloved hand reaching out to angle the photo a bit, until she’s sure of the number. “You know I can never remember their names. Six.. Six..” She mutters, her mind still blank as she fingers through the other files in her desk drawer. “Six... Ah, here he is.” 

From the files, Sela produces a copy of the contract, a neat little golden ‘6′ written in the corner. “His name is Marco. He’s some broker for Wallstreet. Not a very good one, if I remember correctly. Needed this extra money for.. something. I don’t recall what.” Her tone is.. bored. Dismissive of both this man’s existence and of her part in luring him to his inevitable end. “He tried to get his payment upfront, but he’d already signed the contract. Unlucky for him.” 

The paper, still in her hand, rustles as she gives it a small wave before tucking it back into it’s place. “He’s the second addition to a collection that I’m putting together. It’s not fully fleshed out yet.” Her smile returns at her bad pun. “But it’s about revenge on those responsible for stealing from blue-collared hopefuls just trying to double their savings in the stock market. Number four should be the first. A tawdry woman in red polyester.”

#no i like it! #gave me a new idea ldsjflsdjf #also sorry this took so long to get back to u! #samson. #samson: the gorgon's lair

[musas-muse]

everlasting-leo​:

“To budding new friendships!” Leo agrees, voice every bit as bubbly as the champagne. Sela is exactly the sort of person she loves having in her life: already she’s thinking of dinner parties, and where Sela might sit, and all the interesting ideas she’d bring to the conversation. Leo must ask if she’s got any allergies or dislikes before they finish today. Already she’s so glad they’ve met – - Leo puts great faith in first impressions, and Sela gives a wonderful one.

She giggles at the woman’s suggestion that she must have a lot of stories to tell. “Heavens, you have no idea. It doesn’t matter how much time goes by, those with artistic temperaments always seem to be absolute rascals. Even the quiet ones. Especially the quiet ones.” In her not inconsiderable experience, the quiet ones in fact tend to have the most peculiar proclivities.

Sela doesn’t seem inclined to expand upon her background in sculpting; Leo is impressed by the mystery of it all, so she won’t pry. Having always been a firm believer in an artist’s right to secrecy (Leo has, after all, had many secret affairs with artists) she simply assumes she’ll have to work for any more information. Quite right, too! It would be terribly boring if Sela gave away all her secrets upon the first meeting. Leo never quite mastered the air of mystery, for her part. She’s always been an open book.

Leo had indeed been prepared for the macabre nature of Sela’s work; that was a part of the reason she was excited to see it. It’s in the nature of the immortal to have a fixation with death. A withering flower, an open grave, a memento mori: far more compelling subject matter than life and love.

Naturally, she is immediately drawn to the Aphrodite figure. Leo has posed for a few Aphrodite works, though never a sculpture. Up close, the obsidian skin glows, so lucent it might be sweat. The figure is perfect; the swell and curve of a feminine form, the terrified mouth frozen in a scream. Leo is enraptured, and for several long moments she just stares, drinking in the details. “Mehercle…” She doesn’t touch, because a lifetime around art stopped that instinct in its tracks, but her eyes memorise each inch of it with unusual focus. “It’s… wonderful. Fascinating. Will you tell me about this one? It’s about femininity?” Leo feels like that sometimes. Trapped in a body, pretty and curved, but you just want to scream because it’s inescapable.

“Mhm.” The artist hummed softly, though clearly still impressed, as she took the spot next to Leo. “And the delicate balance between deadliness and fragility. It’s why I chose this stone for her.” She paused here, allowing a few moments for quiet contemplation before explaining. “Obsidian is the sharpest material found in the natural world; capable of slicing near anything to shreds. But it is also one of the most fragile.” Her eyes don’t leave her work as she speaks, and she resists the urge to reach out her own gloved hand. The security system was already installed and active. She didn’t want to risk tripping it in front of a client. “Did you know that you can splinter and brake the side of a chunk of obsidian down to a single atom, and the blade would still be smoother and sharper than steel?”

“Perhaps too often, one can find the same juxtaposition within the concept of femininity and womanhood, don’t you think?” She poses, her eyes slowly scanning up the statue’s figure and the possibilities within it. “You can fracture a woman into as many jagged parts as you want-- and even frightened and broken, she’s still a force to be reckoned with. To be feared in return. More so, really; with all of her sharp edges exposed.” This particular Aphrodite was no danger of course. Sela had purposefully not broken any pieces to create a blade’s edge. She couldn’t risk some kind of accident before being able to cash the check-- that’s just bad business. 

Medusa turns a soft smile towards Leo. Those that knew her would know it to be a rare, genuine one. “That was my intention with this piece, anyway. Art is, as you know, subjective. Her eyes and lips may be made of stone, but they still speak, hm? They still convey a message.” Her voice is still feather soft, her smile softer. It’s been years since someone’s looked at one of her pieces and seen beyond the naked and morbid. Sela won’t hide her appreciation. “I’m curious.. Will you share with me what she says to you? What you see?”

#LEO. #leo: heart of stone #this is just our life i guess LKDSJFLSDF #also i'm so sorry this is so late

[musas-muse]

terpsichorist​:

BLOCKBUSTER, 6:07 PM ⇢ @c23starters​

margot opens the dvd case, and a broken disc falls out to land on the floor with an audible thud. panic rises in her as she gathers the pieces off the floor, swiftly getting back up and hoping that no one saw, but—"i swear, i didn’t break it,“ she says quickly, "it was already like this when i opened it. i just wanted to make sure i was renting batman & robin.”

Sela only just manages to step back as the duel parts of the disc clatter to the dirty floor. She scowls, briefly-- an instant reaction she doesn’t have time to control, in her shock-- before clearing her throat and shaking her head. Her way of offering some small reassurance. “Not to worry. I believe you. They had one copy left of the film I came for, and it too was broken.” Sela clicks her tongue in annoyance. “The quality of this place really has gone downhill lately, hasn’t it? If it’s not broken discs, it’s the wrong film altogether. It’s like they’ve stopped actually checking the returns.”

#is anyone surprised that sela is a karen? #i'm not. #margot. #margot: block-busted

[musas-muse]

levvolkov​:

who: open [ @c23starters​ ] where: ???

“Have you got a light?” Lev asked, doing his best not to sound like he was lurking for nefarious reasons. There were only so many reasons to be standing around in an alley at night though, so good thing he smoked. 

.

Unlike this stranger, Sela was absolutely lurking in the alley for nefarious reasons-- reasons she simply could not stand to be interrupted. She had a commission to fill. But, luckily for him, her mark had stood her up-- and he didn’t fill enough of the requirements to be the replacement. In a rare moment of generosity, Sela nods. “I do,” Her smooth voice answers, a gloved hand reaching into her small, but glamorous bag to fish out an elaborately carved silver lighter. She begins to hand it over, but pulls back slightly, her lips curving into a smile. “I am, however, out of things to light. Fancy a trade?”

#lev. #lev: lights in the dark #i hope this is ok!

[musas-muse]

preholocene​:

         it’s difficult not to note the disappointment in her expression, in the jolt of terror that gives him. what if she decides that he’s not worth the trouble? if she just kills him right where he stands? worse, what if she decides to punish him for his uselessness, to strike out at those who have dared to be close to him? panic builds sharply in his chest, creaking in his ribs. he can’t do this. not here. not in front of her. all but holding his breath, all joseph can manage at the idea that he’s still of use is the same nauseated expression. if he speaks, he might just burst into tears. or vomit. or… a horrible, sickly mixture of the two.

         the idea that she needs him to collect a payment doesn’t improve his bout of illness. what use could he possibly provide there? the answer, miserably, is more obvious than he wants to admit. there are a lot of things he could become that would intimidate even the strongest of souls. “okay,” he practically squeaks, trying to steel himself for the task ahead. even if joseph would rather be anywhere else in the world, with anyone else in the world, he knows that there’s no point in trying to fight her. she has the high ground.

Amazingly, Sela manages to bite back the satisfied laugh that threatens to erupt from her at Joseph’s squeak. She doesn’t quite know how to explain it, though she knows a few people who’d understand it anyway-- that distinct joy, excitement, that spreads warm in her stony heart, at watching people squirm around her. At her mere presence. It is as they should, of course. She’s never not a threat to anyone and everyone, at any given time. 

Sela saunters past her unwilling accomplice, guiding the way to the car-- a short limo with two rows of seating that face each other. Her driver opens the doors and Sela slides into one side, taking a far corner. She pointedly stares at the opposite corner, closer to the open doors, for Joseph to take. “It’s nicer than the van, but if you’d prefer something more uncomfortable..” She lets the sentence drop, figuring they could guess how it would end. Sela waits for her guest to get in before speaking up again. “If you don’t mind,” Not that she cares if he does, “I’d like to know a little more about your gifts. You cannot pick what you turn into, but you are absolutely sure that you can control them?” A brow quirks up. “Is there some Rolodex of options that gets flicked through at random?”

#OMG IMAGINE?! #she'd be like those angel statues from doctor who dslkfjdsl #also i'm sorry i know i owe you an older one on jack but you'll get that one tomorrow <3 #have to get my girls to pass ac first #Joseph. #joseph: intimidation check

[musas-muse]

samson-clemens​:

Sela’s always been good at presentation. Even with the building in semi-disarray, unfinished but close it feels impressive. Hands in his pockets, head ducked, he listens intently. Brotherhood aside, he wishes he could still have this. Feels strange to grieve a friendship. He’d like to fool himself that Sela wouldn’t care, that she’d understand. 

He can’t lie to himself, either.

Samson busts out a loud, booming laugh at the face she pulls. No-one is stealing her spotlight, clearly. “What if someone recognizes the statues? Sure you’ve already thought of that, darlin’, but I’m curious.”

Finally reaching her office, all of it white and spotless. The sort of room he feels he shouldn’t be allowed, he’ll only sully it. He takes a seat, sitting back, fingers held together across his stomach looking around the place. He whistles in tune with his gaze going up and down the room, “Already looking grand and expensive as hell.”

“I have already thought of that.” Her grin is a mix of excitable pride and an enjoyment that she’ll never admit to over the casually dropped term of endearment. Whatever thoughts she had of Samson acting in anyway abnormally are easily excused and ushered from her mind. She leaves the answer at that until they’re settled in the unfinished office; where she then lifts the protective covering over the desk in order to unlock one of the filing cabinets attached to it. From the cabinet, she retrieves a black, accordion style portfolio-- giving it a little wave in the air before setting it down on the top of the desk. 

“Everything that will be on display here is, and will be, part of a new process: a sort of long-con, if you will. My muses are picked months before I turn them, and know full well that they’ve been picked as muses for my sculptures.” She finally takes her own seat, gesturing that if he’d like to look at the portfolio, he can. “I won’t bore you with every detail, but essentially: I get them to pose for me, I take their picture-- several, just to cover the basics-- and send them on their way, where they tell their friends or family the exciting news and.. do whatever it is that they do.” She shrugs, settling into the casual familiarity she finds in Samson’s presence. “For a couple of months, anyway. Then I call them up with some story that I need new reference photos, get them in the correct pose again-- and you know how it works from there.” As much as anyone could. 

She grins, very obviously pleased with herself so far. “The photos are evidence of the story everyone who misses them will know. And I have them sign a contract promising them a small percentage of whatever the statue sells for, of course.” Sela chuckles, low and devious. “I might even give half it to their next of kin, if they come knocking.” 

Sela nods, glancing around the room herself. “The sticker shock is.. well, shocking. But I hope to offset the start up costs in the first couple of months.”

#samson. #samson: the gorgon's lair

[musas-muse]

preholocene​:

         icy claws rake up along their spine. how would she know something like that? the only obvious explanation is that she’s been watching from the shadows, unnoticed even by the heightened senses of an ancient animal. but having her around xavier’s is a massive danger. joseph will have to consider what this means for their placement at the institute… and whether it would be better to leave it behind for the sake of others’ safety. “i… i can’t control what i become,” he admits, perfectly honest. for all the strength he’s mustered, he can barely trigger the change at all. “but i can control myself without any problems.” there’s a question poised on the tip of his tongue, but joseph doesn’t dare ask—why did she need to know?

Sela’s face drops slightly with Joseph’s answer, and she clicks her tongue in the silence that follows after as she considers. She’d thought-- in truth, she’d only hoped-- that their limitations would be the other way around. That they could choose the creature, and even if they couldn’t fully control themselves while transformed--- well. There’s more than way to deal with an aggressive, untamed animal. Especially for her. One attempt at a bite and the creature would cease to be a real problem. Sela sways, weighing her options. 

“That is..” She starts slowly, Medusa’s mask slipping from her features, allowing for a rare nugget of honesty to seep out. “..mildly unfortunate.” The thought crosses her mind that she should try again to get one of her crew a position inside the institute, near impregnatable as it might be currently. “But not to worry-- I believe you can still be of use.” The lilt comes back to her voice, making it sound almost chipper as she forms Plan B. “You see, I have a client that seems to think that paying me on time is optional, and I’d like your help in convincing them that it is-- in fact-- not.” Sela smiles and gestures behind them, to the car waiting at the entrance to the alley. “I’ll explain more on the way. I do hope you’re up for a field trip.” She adds, though nothing about her tone or posture implies a choice in the matter. 

#i want you to know #joey's assumption that she's been watching from the shadows #put the image of literally her just like #hiding behind a plant and jotting down notes in my mind #and i can't stop laughing #LKJSDLFSJKD #Joseph. #joseph: intimidation check

[musas-muse]

everlasting-leo​:

My dear – it’s an old fashioned term of address, one that makes Leo feel immediately more comfortable in Sela’s presence. She doesn’t know if the woman knows about her age, because it somehow never occurs to Leo that people might talk about her behind her back, so it doesn’t occur to her to wonder if it’s a manipulation tactic. And either way she thinks this woman clearly knows art, and that’s a surefire way to Leo’s heart.

“Yes, completely! So much modern art just feels like it doesn’t have a soul. Dadaism I excuse because the War really did a number on people’s minds and the chaos had to get out somehow, but things like Jackson Pollock? I just don’t get it.” There’s a frustration in Leo’s voice, like she’d really like to get it. “Oh, and please, you can call me Leo! Champagne would be lovely.”

Leo has eaten and drunk some awful things, and some truly divine things, and champagne consistently ranks highly in her ratings. It doesn’t surprise her, as she lifts the cool glass, to catch the fresh, bright scent of citrus and green apple. She holds it out to Sela’s glass for a toast: “To good art! You know, I’ve never met a woman sculptor before! So many artists have come and gone in my life, but never a woman sculptor. How did you get into it?”

Sela nods deeply in agreement, allowing a small groan to escape her lips. “Don’t get me started on Pollock. I’m sure that toddlers and those that are like-minded enjoy the splatters of color, but I can’t be convinced that toddlers aren’t also capable of recreating it– and without even trying, no less!” Though she often wore the mask of Medusa to ensure the smooth sale of her work, she’s finding that here, as she converses with the lovely Leo, she needs it less and less. Unlike many of her usual clients, Leo comes with an air of true understanding of the art world– like it’s born and nursed by experience, instead of absorbed through hours of lectures in some dusty classroom. Driven by a real passion instead of the shallow need to flaunt excess wealth. She means what she said earlier: it’s refreshing. 

She grins and holds her glass up and clinks it lightly against Leo’s, the fine crystal ringing as musically as it should. “And to budding new friendships.” She adds, before taking a sip for herself. “In your life?” Sela questions with a half laugh. “My, Leo, you must have some stories to tell if you’ve been involved with ‘so many’.” She teases without pushing, not fully understanding Leo’s meaning. “Mm, but I suppose you could say, cliché as it might be,” she begins, adopting a humble demeanor “that the gift just came to me one day. When I needed it to.” It’s not a lie, she never outright lies about her work– it’s just not exactly the whole truth. She moves on though, not wanting to stay on the subject longer than she must. “Come, I think it’s better if I show you my work, hm? Let you judge for yourself.” 

With a flourish, she extends her arm towards the only tarpless archway. “Now, I do hope you were warned previously by our mutual friends, but just in case– my work does tend to lean more towards the macabre. Call it my signature style.” Sela leads them into the finished half of the showroom, and to the four pieces already on their displays. First, made of shiny black obsidian, is of a terrified woman striking the classic Aphrodite’s pose. Second, made of her standard dark gray stone, is a man propped up against his pedestal instead of on top of it, seemingly frozen in the act of recoiling back in fear. Third and fourth are very clearly meant as a set, a calacatta marble depiction of an agonized man on his back, chest butterflied and hallowed. And on it’s own pedestal, six-feet away from it’s former home, is a matching marble heart. 

With a proud smile, Sela turns to Leo, “Wherever you’d like to start, my dear.”

#we don't deserve leo <3 #also sorry i got carried away sldfj #gore tw #not graphic just heavily implied #leo. #leo: heart of stone