Philemon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
butterflyguardian) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-05-19 10:16 pm
butterflyguardian) wrote in towerofanimus2012-05-19 10:16 pm
01 | [Open]
Characters: Philemon, Nyarlathotep, and everyone else
Setting: The library
Format: Starting with prose, maybe match...?
Summary: The Collective Unconscious Twins are out and about. Go andpunch them say hello!
Warnings: I did mention Nyarlathotep! Mindfuckery ahoy, probably.
It was midday in the Tower, and in the Library there's two of the new arrivals making themselves at home. Except these two aren't the usual kind of arrival... Different as night and day, dark and light, chaos and order. Certainly not human. The power radiating from the two of them can be felt even by those with little psychic sensitivity. One radiates malevolent intent, the other a calming presence.
Philemon, the man with the butterfly mask, seems to be looking through a book dedicated to famous works of art. "...So you see, it is even more proof of humanity's potential."
"If by which you mean their potential to fail, then yes, I wholeheartedly agree. What we've seen is a testament to humanity's flaws, actually." Nyarlathotep speaks with folded hands, wearing a smirk that seemed to always be sneering at whoever he addressed. "Much of the world's early masterpieces were hardly drawn out of spontaneity. You seem to forget that most were commissioned by patrons. Artists hardly had the means or luxury to create for themselves without that funding. Humans have and always will be slaves to each other, bound and limited by arbitrary rules. Even their 'creative spirit' is proof of that."
Philemon, despite his "brother's" harsh words, is still smiling as he admires the work put into the Mona Lisa. "Once true. No longer. Besides, many truths were hidden within the early pieces."
"Indeed, and I have one too. Take a look at the background. It's the Arno River of Pisa. The artist that you admired attempted to steal that river with his inventions at the request of a certain politician. Had it succeeded, many in Pisa would needless to say have been very inconvenienced. The piece you're admiring is latent with obsession over a lost attempt at destruction."
"Yet the focal point is a beautiful woman with a smile like no other." Philemon set the book aside and continued the knowing smile of his own. "Humans create art because there is beauty in the physical world. Beauty that they wish to share with others who cannot see it for themselves. Many even create pieces from their own dreams, sharing a part of themselves with their fellow human beings. Those who cannot find joy in such things are few and far between, Nyarlathotep."
...This is clearly the most normal thing in the world to stumble into, yup.
Setting: The library
Format: Starting with prose, maybe match...?
Summary: The Collective Unconscious Twins are out and about. Go and
Warnings: I did mention Nyarlathotep! Mindfuckery ahoy, probably.
It was midday in the Tower, and in the Library there's two of the new arrivals making themselves at home. Except these two aren't the usual kind of arrival... Different as night and day, dark and light, chaos and order. Certainly not human. The power radiating from the two of them can be felt even by those with little psychic sensitivity. One radiates malevolent intent, the other a calming presence.
Philemon, the man with the butterfly mask, seems to be looking through a book dedicated to famous works of art. "...So you see, it is even more proof of humanity's potential."
"If by which you mean their potential to fail, then yes, I wholeheartedly agree. What we've seen is a testament to humanity's flaws, actually." Nyarlathotep speaks with folded hands, wearing a smirk that seemed to always be sneering at whoever he addressed. "Much of the world's early masterpieces were hardly drawn out of spontaneity. You seem to forget that most were commissioned by patrons. Artists hardly had the means or luxury to create for themselves without that funding. Humans have and always will be slaves to each other, bound and limited by arbitrary rules. Even their 'creative spirit' is proof of that."
Philemon, despite his "brother's" harsh words, is still smiling as he admires the work put into the Mona Lisa. "Once true. No longer. Besides, many truths were hidden within the early pieces."
"Indeed, and I have one too. Take a look at the background. It's the Arno River of Pisa. The artist that you admired attempted to steal that river with his inventions at the request of a certain politician. Had it succeeded, many in Pisa would needless to say have been very inconvenienced. The piece you're admiring is latent with obsession over a lost attempt at destruction."
"Yet the focal point is a beautiful woman with a smile like no other." Philemon set the book aside and continued the knowing smile of his own. "Humans create art because there is beauty in the physical world. Beauty that they wish to share with others who cannot see it for themselves. Many even create pieces from their own dreams, sharing a part of themselves with their fellow human beings. Those who cannot find joy in such things are few and far between, Nyarlathotep."
...This is clearly the most normal thing in the world to stumble into, yup.
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He realised he had been stood there staring and dropped his eyes.
Ah, it was probably my turn...
Nyarlathotep glances at the new boy. Somebody has been peeping on them all this time. Well, it's not like they were talking silently with each other anyway.
"Do you have business with us?"
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And Tara is hiding behind the next bookshelf over and eavesdropping on them. Fortunately, H.P. Lovecraft was never her scene, not even after joining the Scoobies, so she doesn't recognize the name of one participant in the conversation.
...so far, she finds herself agreeing with both.
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"S-Sorry. I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to...eavesdropping. Th-That was rude. Sorry."
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As it is, it seems to just be a casual art debate between a pessimist and an optimist - nothing Kohaku hasn't heard some variation on before in her time listening in on Makihisa's conversations with visiting company. Not terribly interested in the full performance (these conversations usually culminated in someone getting shouted out of the room), she resumes her perusal for a book on horticulture. She doesn't really need it, but having the reference is nice.
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And so, the debate will continue. After these thousands of years, there's really no end to it.
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Nyarlathotep? Really? David supposed more surprising things had found their way to the Tower, but... still. He felt the distinctly wrong aspects of them both, though the masked one was...less off-putting, for somewhat clear reasons.
His shadow stirs, shifting and writhing in shapes rather unlike a human's.
"I should think the Crawling Chaos has better ways to spend his time than to debate the merits of da Vinci, but the always was such a hard one to pin down, hm? Lovecraft was abhorrent enough on his own, but once he let others in..." There's a hollowness there, an echo. The boy tuts facetiously, as if chastising the long-dead writer.
This whole thing should probably be striking him as a bad idea.
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"If by better things to do, you mean my normal occupation, then I'd be inclined to agree with you. I'm sure, though, that people wouldn't appreciate finding themselves be dragged into Hell for their weaknesses. ... It's what I'm expected to do."
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"How strange. Though, as I said, the old "Mythos" is so damnably bad at keeping things consistent... to be expected for a playground that anyone can contribute to, I suppose."
When Philemon speaks, however, he's clearly taken off-guard. He's not...precisely comfortable with venturing into that--rather the opposite, really--and it shows. "... When the situation calls for it, one takes whatever help that one can get."
well they'll all be coming so let's just get the parade started.
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He recognized this one. The two have never met, granted, but he recognized those markings to be demonic and the boy who carried them to certainly be human. The Demi-Fiend is not a common demon. Granted, there have been cases where humans fused with demons or angels, but the process was never quite as clean as how Demi-Fiends turn out. They interested him.
"Don't be shy. Why don't you come over here? I'd like you to help us settle a debate."
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Maybe he should call out Pixie...
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He turned his attention to the Demi-Fiend. "Come, join us. I don't bite. And I'll make sure that Nyarlathotep doesn't either."
It's clearly a joke, from his tone.
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Who were they...
Now the only problem was getting him to speak. He sat there quiet, so that they would explain the situation to him.
go go godbros
He'd only meant to hover in to the library so he could try and find some means of paper and writing utensils. He'd decided, despite the complexity involved in the task, to assign a proper system to the language of the stars, and sort of needed to record it. Mostly for Jun's benefit, but the star had hope others might find some novelty in it.
He was not expecting to come across the twin gods, however, if his I-just-bit-a-space-lemon-and-I-think-I-also-got-stung-by-a-bee facial expression was any indication.
Starbro, get over here
Nyarlathotep turns his head towards Alcor's direction and gives him a smile. If he was invited to the discussion, then there's little doubt that he would be on Philemon's side. Prior debates have shown that neither Alcor nor Nyarlathotep are willing to understand the other's side. It's fine, honestly. Naivety is common even among the gods.
"You already know my brother, don't you?"