1827/Private Art Exhibits and World Domination

Private Art Exhibits and World Domination
Date of Scene:	16 August 2016
Location:	Osaka Apartment
Synopsis:	Naru finally asks Kunzite to look at her paintings. What he finds is not quite what either of them were expecting.
Cast of Characters:	Naru Osaka, Kunzite

---

Naru Osaka has posed:
It's not like Kunzite hasn't been over to Naru's apartment before. It's not even like she hasn't invited him over before, but somehow this time Naru takes most of a cup of coffee to finally hit 'send' on a text message. Europe was really not good for Naru's coffee intake.

TXT to Kunzite: I've a few things to show you, if you're not busy. My place.

Naru sets her phone down after hitting send, picking up the other phone to put away before she gets distracted there again. No more coffee, her hands are shaking enough.

Kunzite has posed:
It takes all of a minute and a quarter before there's a knock at her door. Calm, evenly spaced, apparently unworried.

Then again, Kunzite's usual sign of being worried is only the degree of frown.

It's Kazuo there when the door is answered, jeans, rolled-up shirt sleeves, no sign of expecting trouble. He inclines his head to her without a word.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"Where you on the roof?" Naru asks with a quirk of a smile as she opens the door after that exceptionally quick arrival time. "Clearly I should have offered you a coffee earlier."

The door is opened more fully, and Naru has ensured that she can't chicken out once he's actually here. Canvases have been propped up on various things in the living room, giving the air of a student studio, with far too many pieces for far too limited hanging space. There's a good twenty five or more of them, none more than about 24" x 36" and most sitting at a 12" x 18" size with a few smaller ones tucked in for good measure.

A few things are obvious straight away. While Naru's line drawings range from chibi cartoon doodles to almost photorealism, her painting tends towards post-impressionism, chock full of colour and imagery and symbolism and emotion. Even without explict clusters or tags, there are some very clear groupings amongst the pieces. Some almost humming with barely repressed energy, some clearly a collection based on various attacks, some more clearly than others showing her progression in skill as an artist.

The emotional energy coming off the collection as a whole is such that one might wonder how there isn't a wraith just hanging out on the couch playing with the wii. There's a lot of dark and heavy, not necessarily in colour, but in the emotional gut punch of loneliness, frustration, pain, isolation, inadequacy.

There are exceptions to the dark and heavy, and they stand out like brilliant jewels, all the more for being rare. Highs soaring almost as high as the lows dip low, capturing moments of triumph, love, understanding. A trio of pieces stand out in their own way, different yet again. They feel dead, flat and emotionless. The last of the trio not even finished, clearly abandoned before the end.

To say that Naru is nervous at spreading her work out like this would be a grand and glorious understatement. Every nuance of her body language screams her discomfort, as she hangs back, lingering on the edge of the living room, her arms crossed in front of her as she watches Kunzite, not her own paintings. She lets the work speak for her, for better or worse, keeping her silence as she watches.

Kunzite has posed:
"Contrary to popular opinion," Kazuo replies, "I don't spend all of my time on rooftops." ... that wasn't a no. But his hair isn't particularly windblown, which suggests that he might have been evading playing Pokemon Go instead.

Once she lets him in, there's a marked lack of joking. Or of any words at all, for some time.

He paces among the paintings, slow and silent, moving more often than still; even when he's studying one canvas, he most often does it by considering it as part of a group. Sometimes one that she's made it deliberately part of. Sometimes a slow loop back and forth between that one and one or two at the far end of the room, considering commonalities of theme or of technique.

Sometimes paying most attention to those that bear the darkness the best. Sometimes circling the Wraith-works. Sometimes those that show joy. Toward the end -- those that bear the most energy, that seem to be about to leap into the air of themselves, or to insinuate themselves into the mind of the watcher.

Last of all ... a circuit, if one can call something cut up and back-and-forth a circuit, with a reconstruction as best he can make it of the paintings' order in time. Watching the progression, not just in skill, but in mood, in what's captured and how nearly alive it feels.

He does not say anything, even at the end. He only comes to a halt at last, standing before Naru, studying the way she stands as if it were the application of a brushstroke in itself.

Naru Osaka has posed:
Naru holds herself still, resisting the urge to explain, resisting the urge to flee. The second one being far stronger than the first. She takes a few moments before she tips her head up to look at him as he comes to stand in front of her.

A breath in, held a few moments, and let go in a slow measured way. Centring her breathing before she relaxes her shoulders mindfully and deliberately.

There's two sets that fairly scream with energy, one early in the paintings, based on skill and the sharp highs and lows, missing out on softer edges to the emotions and imagery presented. The other set is clearly more recent, smaller too, with more complicated and nuance to the emotions within.

It takes a few moments longer of that silence before Naru manages to uncurl an arm from around herself.

Kunzite has posed:
She uncurls that arm, and his own hand comes up, catching hers with his palm against the back of hers.

"Over six months," is all he says. There's no question in the tone; but his head tilts a half-inch further down or so, a fraction of that to one side, and that might serve the same purpose.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"Six months." Naru agrees quietly, a touch of a nod. There's another slow breath, deliberate and just as careful as the last.

Naru turns her hand a little, to be able to grasp his, grateful for the touch, and not even startling at it this time.

"It changed again." Naru comments quietly.

Kunzite has posed:
His hand clasps hers in turn, steady, its calluses young. Most of the time it's easy to forget that some of the paintings here are older than his body. It gives him no more trouble now than it ever does.

"'It.'" His voice is no louder than hers.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"Art. Muse. Inspriration. The feel of working. The work itself." Naru replies in a tumble of words that aren't any louder, but clearly concepts that don't fit in the sparse phrasing that they both often employ.

Naru points with her free hand, uncurling it from around herself in turn, not letting go of his other hand.

"Those." She points at one of the sets that are fairly dancing with energy. "Are from this week." Her gesture moves over to the other grouping that is so much heavier, darker, but still clearly energy infused. "Those were after the chocolates."

Kunzite has posed:
A set from this week. She's only been back in the city for a few days.

"It presses on you harder." His glance her way is sharp, gauging her reaction to his speculations. "Demands more of you. You've indicated before that it doesn't seem to you to be an alien thing. But you're not accustomed to this much of it, are you."

Naru Osaka has posed:
Naru takes another slow breath, considering his questions and thinking on her reply, watching the paintings rather than Kunzite, even if he's watching her.

"The energy from the chocolates, I could feel when it hit, and when it left." Naru nods after a moment. "This hasn't left. It's not the same, but .. it is." She frowns, fighting with the words to explain something that's slippery enough in colour and texture, and even harder to put words to. "I'd rather not just surrender to it."

Kunzite has posed:
"And could you feel when this hit?" The obvious parallel, the one she's left aside. Like her, he's watching the paintings, now. The more recent group. Considering what he can guess from technique and color, not yet able to study more closely. Only a little of his power leaks over into Kazuo's form. Enough to let him help Makoto in the kitchen. Not much use for something more than telling her when things are cooking unevenly. But a little.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"Vienna." Naru answers simply, without requiring any deliberation or thought. "At one of the museums. I thought something was in my head, but it didn't feel right for that /either/. It just felt.. odd. It wasn't until I got home that I could see the comparison between those and the chocolate paintings, and then I got worried."

Kunzite has posed:
"Mercury's checked you before, hasn't she? That gives her a baseline. We could ask her to do a comparison." But that's a scientific answer, and that's not necessarily the right flavor of things for dealing with something like this. "I could look. But I may not be able to tell you as much."

Silence for a moment.

"Or you could look. There are similarities there, yes. But are the emotions behind the similarities your own, this time?"

Naru Osaka has posed:
The suggestion of Mercury, or someone who isn't her checking is met with a little nod from Naru. That's what she expected, after all.

"They aren't the same." Naru shakes her head, slightly misinterpreting his question on her first answer and then pausing and giving a little frown as her instant reply catches that subtle difference in query than what she expected.

"I wouldnt have said that the emotions weren't mine on the first set, but I would say that they were enhanced? Blown out of proportion, I suppose." Naru frowns thoughtfully, looking over to the paintings in question, with the lows in them dark and brooding and heavy, and the sparse highs just as dramatic. "On the recent ones.." She considers as her gaze moves there. "The translation was easier, to come from thought to form, I was directing, not being dragged along."

Kunzite has posed:
"That's good." That's more than good. That's an immense relief. Kunzite glances to Naru again, much the same way she's looking over at the paintings. "Your sketches changed, too. Of the exhibits from one of the museums there. More vivid and more detailed than one would have expected from memory. Whatever's happening, so far it doesn't seem to be doing you harm."

Naru Osaka has posed:
"I noticed that." Naru nods in slow agreement. "I did do a very rough sketch while I was there, but the detail work was from memory, and it just flowed." She gives his hand a squeeze, almost having forgotten that she was holding it, still grateful for the contact.

"If that changes, could you tell me?" Naru asks quietly. "The part about not seeming to do me harm, and probably not me having been infused up to my eyes in dark energy. I hope."

Kunzite has posed:
"Yes." Just that, straightforward, barren of any social niceties or graces. Just yes. There's a moment's pause before he adds, "If you're worried about dark energy, I can look for that now. If you prefer." It is, after all, her home. And her energy, light or dark. He'd have no qualms about it whatsoever in an emergency; but when nothing seems to be immediately out of place, he can afford to be polite.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"I am." Naru admits with a soft sigh. "Worried about dark energy, after .. well.. everything. It seems most likely that I've something that knows how to bide its time in my head. I'd rather not have an unfortunate surprise later when I develop a sudden urge to take over the world or something."

Kunzite has posed:
"It's rarely sudden," Kunzite assures Naru. Dubious assurance, but assurance all the same. He lets go her hand for a moment; then he's his other self, the jeans gone for the sake of the uniform. He shifts a little. Puts his arm around her shoulders, carrying the heavy warmth of the cape with it. It seems a senseless and unnecessary gesture, until a moment later his shadows flood the room, bringing their chill with them.

Tasting the energy of the room. Particularly close by the paintings. Particularly near the door to her room, where she so often paints. And particularly, though not intrusively as of yet, near her herself.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"When I realize I've details plans drawn up for it and I hadn't entirely noticed.. is that more accurate?" Naru asks with a little quip, her voice lighter. She leans into him a little, keeping close to his warmth. Summer wear isn't really ideal for the chill of shadows.

The earlier paintings fueled by chocolate still hold their dark energy, although it doesnt seem to be spilling off into anything else, and is better categorized as 'dim' rather than 'dark'. Stable, contained.

There is all /sorts/ of errant ambient energy in the room, in her recent paintings, in Naru's room, around Naru herself, erratic and unfocused.

Kunzite has posed:
There's a half-uncharacteristic light ruffle of Naru's hair. "I wouldn't know. Contingency planning is part of my job description." ... for world domination. Hopefully he doesn't have those plans on tap.

Hopefully.

Mamoru would probably be irritated.

"As it is -- no. I don't see any external signs of anything dark having stepped in." Not since the chocolates. "You are radiating in a way that I didn't see from you before your trip. Not a negative thing. Undecided, after a fashion. Not entirely controlled, but not immediately harmful that I can see. You don't appear to be feeling drained; if you are, please say something."

Naru Osaka has posed:
Just a few notes, to prepare for. That's all. It's better to be prepared after all.

Naru smiles at the ruffle of her shorter hair, appreciative of the current playful Kunzite.

Naru listens to the assessment and shakes her head a little. "No, not drained. I didn't feel drained at the time either, if anything more like an infusion than a drain." She frowns a little, listening as he describes her as 'radiating'. "It doesn't sound like a positive thing either."

Kunzite has posed:
"It means that it's possible that you've developed more of a capacity for energy generation than you can currently control. That might just be a reaction against the number of times you've been drained, a manifestation of how thoroughly you're bent on not letting that be more of a problem. Or it might be an early sign of something else."

There's that hint more of a frown. "It would be useful to know what you were looking at or interacting with when that feeling of infusion began. It would be more useful to be able to go there and look at it; perhaps I'll talk to Mamoru about that." The frown lessens, a moment after. "Either way, most useful of all would be to work out whether you can gain any control over the effect. You might be able to turn it to your own purposes, in time."

Naru Osaka has posed:
"I've sketches of the things I was looking at in my sketchbook. Some of the very ones that you commented on being more dynamic." Naru comments as she listens to the general speculation on what's likely to be going on with her. "I don't have a lot of resiliance against the curses, but drain doesn't bother me nearly as much as it did the first times it happened. That seems a good possiblity."

Naru is thoughtful on the notion of trying to gain control over things she can't quite put much of a finger on yet. "So far, I can sense which paintings.. and drawings.. are different, but that's all. Not all are, even since I've gotten back, and I can't seem to decide which are and which aren't."

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Thank you, Kunzite." It's offered quietly, gently, gratefully.

Kunzite has posed:
"If you decide that you want to try to work with it," Kunzite says quietly, "come and talk with me, if you like. Or with someone else, if you're more comfortable; but the offer is open." The shadows retreat while he's speaking, dimming, evanescing. It'll take a little longer for the room to warm back up, though, so he doesn't banish the uniform just yet.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"You have to know I'm going to fight with it by myself first, right?" Naru comments with a flicker of a smile. "And then text you when a painting is holding me hostage in my own closet or something equally stupid."

The casual ease of being close almost acts as a buffer to the copious amounts of negativity splayed across the canvases as Naru looks them all over again. "My head's a seriously messed up place."

Kunzite has posed:
"You're fifteen," Kunzite observes. "That's not so unusual as you might think."

He is never discussing what his head was like at fifteen. In either life.

"In either case. ShOuld we get you an emergency phone to stash in the closet, just in case? Or do you think you have that contingency covered?"

Naru Osaka has posed:
"Apparently being more than halfway to sixteen, and not speaking the langauge, lets you get away with telling museums that you're sixteen and therefore don't need a parent or guardian with you." Naru grins brightly, innocently, or some approximation of innocent.

"I'm getting pretty good at texting from all sorts of bizarre situations. I should be able to manage it even from the closet." Naru laughs softly and gives him a gentle squeeze before slowly starting to extract herself from under his cape, just about when it would start to be something that could be awkward.

Kunzite has posed:
"The idea of needing a full-time adult escort at fifteen is bizarre to begin with." Kunzite shakes his head, and steps back from Naru's extraction, and by the time he's finished shaking his head the second time it's jeans and Kazuo again. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be able to channel that energy into texting from a phone you can't touch. Stranger things have undoubtedly happened."

Naru Osaka has posed:
"It is bizarre, which is why I didnt' feel guilty in lying to them." Naru points out and then quirks her head. "I find that highly unlikely that I am going to channel my drawings into phones. I think I'm mostly hoping to .." She considers as she starts to move amongst the paintings, gathering them up as they talk. "I'm not sure what I'm hoping to do. I'm not convinced that I've much control over it. I'm still mostly expecting it to explode in a horrible way, to be honest."

Kunzite has posed:
"Expect that too much," Kazuo says, "and it might happen on its own. But it's good to consider the possibility, all the same." Apparently he considers mental tightrope-walking a daily exercise, nothing to be concerned about. Not too much of a surprise.

He comes over to one of the new paintings, at the last, and falls silent to watch it. Without stalking among the others, this time.

Presumably he'd say something if it moved.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"I promise to text if I blow myself up while painting too." Naru notes as she gathers up the older paintings, the ones that don't vibrate with energy, the dark energy ones.

Naru glances over to where he's watching one of the paintings. "My drawings are closer to your style than anything I paint." She notes. "If I ever actually put on a gallery show, I might need to take up drinking to survive the opening."

Kunzite has posed:
"Texting with dismembered gobbets of flesh might present a few novel problems." He hasn't looked away from the canvas --

-- he doesn't say a word to her sentence about his style.

And picks right back up at the next, as if there were no gap at all. "I understand that that's the traditional method. These days some people prefer other pharmaceuticals, but alcohol relatively rarely boasts potentially lethal contaminants, so there's something to be said for the classics after all."

Naru Osaka has posed:
Paintings stacked up neatly, in gradients by size, leaning against the couch. "I have faith in my teen girl mad texting skillz, even if I'm using dismembered gobbets of flesh." Naru doesn't even blanch at /that/ mental image.

She comes to stand next to him again, to look at the painting he's settled at, to look at it, hopefully with the perspective that Kunzite brings to it, rather than her own biases. "Last time I tried alcohol, I fell asleep before I finished the first drink."

Kunzite has posed:
"Also a viable survival mechanism. Not likely to win you any additional patrons, but viable." He pauses for a moment. "Alternatively, you could have someone other than Nephrite determine what you're drinking." Though that particular day definitely needed to be Nephrite. Definitely.

He's silent for a long moment more. There's no sign of any more wariness than usual from him; the painting doesn't concern him, per se. Only interests him. Complications and all.

Naru Osaka has posed:
"I could also try not being energy drained before hand, it seems that might help too." Naru considers the painting. She's quiet now, managing to examine her own work without the anxiety of unexpected energy additions, the sense of things not being 'right'. To be able to critique, if silently, the work.

"If you'd like it, you are welcome to it." Naru offers quietly.

Kunzite has posed:
Kunzite lifts a hand, though his hand does not approach the canvas -- only traces in the air, held almost back against his chest, the irregular lines of one feature of the painting. It shows a castle built on a peak, the steep fall away of the green land around it, the barren rock piercing through the green -- the lower mountains beyond blue and gray in the distance. It's none of these that caught his eye. It's the jagged and irregular lines of the walls, branched and asymmetric as a lightning strike. Barrier upon barrier guarding the heights.

"Are you sure?" he says quietly. "It might not have as long a lifespan, given our record so far."

Naru Osaka has posed:
"Is it worth a longer life, being hidden in my closet?" Naru asks and then nods at the question of if she's sure. "I'd rather it go to someone who gives it a second look." She turns then, to move over towards getting some of the drop cloths that protected the paintings in her closet, that now can wrap it up to travel with Kunzite. "Besides, if the energy in it goes weird and tries to strangle you in your sleep, you'll probably notice and can come rescue me from my closet holding me hostage."

Kunzite has posed:
"Possibly even before the explosion. Convenient for avoiding getting blood on your cellphone." He still hasn't looked away from the canvas when she turns back; he does finally tear himself away from it a few moments after. Whatever it is he's seeing in the painting, it doesn't change his expression. Not overtly. It's just that there's something faintly raw about that lack of expression for a moment, before he gathers himself again and it vanishes. Two breaths, steady. "Thank you."