2nd bite - action

[willak]

[She's been to the Battle Dome, the square in the town. All the lakes and hospital. And that's just in the last day. Raylene's been exploring since she arrived, trying to scope the town out. Figure it's ins and outs.

She's plenty disappointed, to say the least.

Raylene had been avoiding one location at least. The art gallery. Only because of the article she read about her sister back before all ... this. She read that her sister was a painter. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she might have something there. Of course, staying away only worked for so long before Raylene finally decided 'the hell with it'. She just wanted a feel of the place. A quick look and she'd be out of there.

Admittedly it was the worst freaking idea she'd had that day. She recognized one of Jilly's paintings right away without looking at the little card beside it that gave the name, title and proportions of the canvas; without even knowing the artist's style, the medium she used. Anything. She could just tell.

The fairies gave it away, to be honest. They were all odd and peculiar looking and their skin was almost clay-like in texture. Not all of them had wings but the ones that did had ones that looked thin like flies. Raylene was, for a moment, amazed at how she could get all those colors into a picture without making it all turn to mud.

She started feeling a little hot...thinking about her sister. Like she was wearing too many layers or like someone had turned on the heat from inside. It was...confusing for a while longer before she realized she wasn't breathing right.

Short, almost gasping breaths were the only sounds in the gallery. Good thing she was alone or this would be awkward. Just looking at the painting made her start to freak out. Was she ever going to fucking get over this? Over everything?

The fact that a week ago she buried her sister didn't even once cross her mind. The painting was just so...offensive. It makes her think of all the times they sat together and all the times Jilly told her stories. Fairy tales. Her fists tightened and she sucked in a deep breath. Controlled.]

Goddamnit.

[She practically growled before something clicked through the red. It was like she was possessed the way she suddenly reached for the canvas and tore at it. Raylene crushed the frame and used a piece of it to stab through the painting itself, carving through the canvas like it was butter.

The fairies shredded, she moves onto the next one in a haze. Repeated the motion... again. And again.

And again.

Until all of Jilly's paintings specifically were destroyed. Only then did she release the piece of wood and start to feel...normal again. Normal as she got. More in control. The only thing that made her calm down was the idea of her sister unable to fix this. Because she was gone.

She was out of there like a shot. Anyone that saw her would probably just think she was Jilly. She wasn't dressed in her New Feather clothes anymore. Like Jilly she favored baggy crap when she wasn't looking to impress anyone. Jeans and a big ol' sweatshirt for the winter months covered by a nice peacoat jacket.]

[Later that evening.]

[Raylene found herself a table at a tiny little restaurant to sit down at, it looked as if it was going to start storming tonight and she wanted something hot in her stomach before she ran off to her stupid little apartment. It had nothing special in it, nothing that could identify it as hers. She treated it like a motel room. A bed and ceiling were all she needed and wanted right now anyways.

Turns out handling wood with bare hands like she did lead to splinters and she could be spotted picking them out of her palms over a hot plate of chicken and potatoes. Nothing special.]

( ooc: people are totally allowed to either walk in on Raylene finishing up, leaving, walking around afterwards or at the restaurant! or all four if you want!)

Comments

[willak]

She's still too on edge from her little episode, too riled to think about how she should respond before snarling out, "That ain't none of your business, mister."

If she were more calm, more herself, she might've played dumb like she usually did when confronted. She was too unhinged to care about her image now. A few moments to cool down were needed.

[dragmire]

"Perhaps not. But it is the business of the artist. Perhaps I should speak to them instead."

[willak]

Raylene flinched at that, speaking quietly like the fight had been punched out of her but with plenty of bite still. "Won't do you much good, mister."

Jilly wouldn't be doing much talking but no one needed to know that. Quickly, Raylene changed the subject.

"Who the hell are you anyways?"

Might be in her best interest to know exactly who she was talking to. What if he was some kind of weird law enforcement around here?

[dragmire]

He raised a curious eyebrow at the statement. He could only guess at it's meaning. For the moment, he gave but a small nod as greeting.

"I am Ganondorf Dragmire. I am recently returned to this place. I thought to inspect this building, as it did not exist here before."

[willak]

"Well I won't keep you from inspectin' then," she mutters under her breath and dips her head as she makes to try and squeeze past him. It's worth a shot but she doesn't know if he'll budge or not. He's way bigger than she is after all.

[dragmire]

"I've seen all I've needed to. Do you have a name?" He did not move. She could squeeze by, if she absolutely wanted to, but it meant close proximity with a man covered in armor.

[willak]

"Maybe," it's a horrible avoidance and she knows it. It sounds pathetic.

Raylene's feet dance a bit around the edge of what she deems to be his 'personal space'. It's a rough estimate of his reach, should his arms be extended.

The small woman realizes that she won't be getting anywhere without humoring the big guy. And being stuck in here, waiting for someone else to discover her and this mess is making her antsy.

"R - Helen. Helen Ramirez." A lie that almost wasn't.

[dragmire]

"Helen Ramirez. An elegant name." Though he noticed the near slip, he made no comment on it. If it was a lie, it was of little consequence to him. He certainly had no intention of pointing fingers.

He stepped aside, at long last, to inspect a picture. It left an easy escape, if she should choose it.

"These works of art... Such a foolish conceit. We mortals, so desperate to imitate our creators, strive to make our mark, to create something new in turn. But in the end, they are more fragile than we are."

[willak]

"Yeah, sure thing." She sounded incredibly disinterested and spacey - in a way that only the horribly vapid could. It was an act but one she used often: play dumb and you'll get what you want.

Though with the space he created - Raylene was slowly edging closer to the exit, like she was still too unsure around him to gauge if he would try to stop her or not.

[dragmire]

With his back turned to her, it didn't seem he had any interest at all. Though he continued speaking, as if she were a captive audience.

"If you wish to leave, I will not impede you. Nor do I intend to speak of this encounter to others."

[willak]

She starts to book it when he finishes that first sentence. But...she has to stop and ask: "Why?"

Because she's paranoid, because nothing ever comes for free - especially not silence and Raylene (Helen) has to wonder what's in it for him here?

There's always an angle and she doesn't know his yet. That makes her nervous.

[dragmire]

"There is nothing to be gained from it." He paused and glanced back at her. A small mischievous smirk formed. "And the art here is hideous. Why condemn you for doing the village a favor?"

[willak]

A quiet bark of laughter sneaks out of her at that. She wasn't expecting him to make a joke. He didn't look the type, but that was what judging by someone's cover got you wasn't it?

"Well, when they're handing out medals I'll make sure to mention that, Mister Dragmire."

She doesn't spend time hanging around after that. Rather she hightails it out of there as fast as she can go on human legs.

[dragmire]

He doesn't stop her. When she leaves, he turns again back to the painting. After a minute or so, he too makes an exit as well. No point sticking around the scene of the crime.