paixaorpg | Picture Perfect [Active]

Characters: Pegasus, Seymour, anyone else who feels like wandering in?
Content: Pegasus is back up to his old tricks again. Not stealing people's souls and cheating without getting caught..... but painting. Seymour shall appear as well, and hopefully an interesting time will be had by all.
Setting: H4-ish, or something. Wherever.
Time: Afternoon-ish?
Warning: Uh.... petting the dog moment? =D; Even villains need a break sometimes. Especially ~~gleefully flamboyant~~ displaced artistic ones like Pegasus.

It had been a long, long time since he'd done this. Far too long, in his opinion. But this place had stirred his hope of getting his Cecilia back, not by violence and trickery, but by the potential benevolence of the random and mysterious process that had brought him to Paixao in the first place. What a hope, hmm?It almost made him wonder if he were going mad. To think that of all the possible people in all the possible worlds, this Paixao would choose them both....

Well, a hope was a hope, no matter how farfetched. And it had encouraged him to spruce back up and find a place to stay, to comb the journals daily in hopes of spotting some clue to her existence, to get himself a few suits of clothing so he could live here comfortably for the time being..... and to pick up some supplies for his long-neglected passion. After all, it wasn't as if he was hurting for money here. All that time creating cards..... as interesting as it was, as artistic as he could make it, that was a commercial endeavor, not an artistic one. It didn't give him a full-sized canvas to love upon and work his magic with--his own, natural talent, rather than the magic of his Eye, which he knew he would have a difficult time explaining to Cecilia if when she arrived.

So here he sat, somewhere deep within the city, perched on a bench with an easel, canvas, brush, and palette. A few more canvases were piled near his feet, ready for use; in the meantime, he was people watching, searching for interesting-looking people to immortalize along with the fantastic scenery. It was quite a Wonderland in some respects, wasn't it? Maybe he should try out his hand at Surrealism or Impressionism.....

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As interesting as it may have been to get a closer look at the (rather boring) life of a fayth for a few days, Seymour was quite glad to have his own body back. Besides who knew what his mother would have done had she stayed much longer in his body. Unsent he may be, but that hardly granted him a total immunity to any sort of stress or damage. It just meant that he was less likely to die from it - and coming back from the mostly-dead wasn't exactly the most enjoyable of experiences.

But he was back in his own body now, and he had never been so glad to feel the air or see the pseudo-sun before. And it looked like he wasn't the only taking advantage of the day either, if that canvas set up nearby was any indication.

"An artist?" he asked, as soon as he drew close enough to be heard.

Pegasus lifted his head at the sound of the voice nearby, smiling brightly as he caught sight of Seymour. What an unusual-looking man! He'd never quire seen hair like that before--even Yugi-boy's couldn't match up to the sheer amount of hair gel it must take to maintain it--or tattoos, or even clothes; he looked very much the part of a mage or priest, or perhaps a presiding judge or official in some fantasy setting. Almost as if he were pulled directly from one of Kaiba-boy's little simulations, or some other storytelling medium.... Truly a man worthy of being immortalized on canvas, if not having a card modeled after him.

And so, he delicately set his current brush into a glass of water, selecting a few tubes of paint--fortunately, he'd found quite a lot of metallics and jewel tones to help with the artificial scenery--to mix up some shades that Seymour might recognize as belonging to his hair and robes. "Why, yes indeed!" He confirmed, tilting his head invitingly at the other half of the empty bench beside him. "Though a sorely rusty one, I'm afraid to admit. Care to have a seat, good sir?" He returned to his brushes even as his attention was divided, putting down the first few strokes that would make Seymour a part of his work.

A painting, was it? Well it could hardly hurt, after all - and it been quite some time before he'd last sat for a painting. Before he'd had the misfortune to get himself killed at Macalania temple. A shame that it had come to that, really, but they had offered their lives - and a shame that they had been the stronger in that outcome.

"I see no reason not to - it's been quite some time since I last had the chance, after all."

And with that, he moved to take the seat the other man had indicated.

Edited 2007-12-20 00:53 (UTC)

"Indeed?" Pegasus arched his eyebrows--or at least, the one visible--at Seymour, curious as he started to fill in the outline of the man's face. "Do you model as a hobby, then?" That was interesting.... Then again, he supposed it was nice of him to offer such an interesting face up to the artists of his homeland, whatever it happened to be. Or perhaps he was a noble of some sort; those robes did look fancy enough for it....

He considered for a moment, brush pausing, and he offered an apologetic smile. "Goodness, where have my manners gone? Do forgive me, sir--my name is Maximilian Pegasus." They weren't in Japan at the moment, so those naming conventions didn't seem to apply here.... "And to whom do I owe the honor of this meeting, mm?"

"I doubt I would be the best suited for such a thing," he answered with a smile. It was quite possibly a lie, but the fact remained that his hobbies lay far and away from the humble field of modeling. "And I fear that even if I had been interested in such a thing that I would hardly have been able to the time."

"Seymour Guado, formerly the high priest of Macalania Temple and Maester of Yevon," he answered, following his answer with the best approximation of a Yevon bow that he could manage while seated. After all, it wouldn't do to be less than polite.

Pegasus looked on with an expression that invited Seymour to continue, should he so wish; still, the introduction came as some surprise. So that was what the robes were about? It made sense, he supposed.... "My heavens! I had no idea that I Was in the presence of a man with such a high calling. And little me nothing more than a humble CEO and artist...." He offered a bow as well as he could also, careful not to spill his paints, though nothing more than a simple Japanese one; it felt a little awkward, considering how terribly westernized Domino City had become in some respects. Handshakes were more common than exchanging bows, but at least he could still do it.... "I'm sure you must have been terribly busy at home. What exactly were your duties, Guado-san?"

"Many and varied, actually. The maesters are in charge of making sure that the teaching of Yevon are followed." And running the world on the side, since Spira was - or had been at the time he'd left - something of a theocracy. And when you added in the duties of a summoner on top of those of a maester things got very busy indeed, even when you weren't also trying to destroy the world.

"And please, call me Seymour." Guado, was after hardly more than the name of the race he belonged to, after all.

"Goodness.... busy indeed, Seymour-san." Pegasus noted. Ah, theocracies.... How perfectly tyrannical. You could get away with a lot in those, if the religion was loosely posed enough to be interpreted in many ways.... Of course, that also made upholding the versions you wanted rather tiresome. At least the part about destroying the word was somewhat similar to what he'd been doing with the dueling tournament.....

Before long, Seymour's face was recognizable on the canvas, and Pegasus started moving down, silent for a moment as he worked at getting the colors and patterns of Seymour's robe right.

"Perhaps so, if not as much as one might have expected." There was, after all, no small number of lesser priests and monks making up the ranks of Yevon and to whom any number of menial tasks could be assigned. As for upholding the versions the Maesters wanted ... that was a good deal simpler, given that Yevon had been around for a good thousand years or so, and had by now had something of a stranglehold on Spira's general populace.

Of course, the fact that they'd claimed that Sin would disappear if humanity atoned for its 'crime' of using machina didn't hurt, and likewise for the fact that the Al Bhed made for a rather convenient scapegoat due to their use of machina.

That the maesters were at best hypocrites and had a general tendency to be Unsent... well, the general populace didn't need to know that.

Pegasus nodded pleasantly at that. "I presume you must have at least a few assistants to keep things running smoothly...." Domino City would certainly perish if they weren't allowed to use machines; perhaps if he'd known more about the specifics of this regime, he would have been very curious indeed. Not that Seymour likely would have commented on any of this to a complete stranger, of course....

As it turned out, they wouldn't have had much longer to talk anyway. Pegasus was just putting the finishing touches on Seymour on his canvas when he flickered--not unlike a hologram, or mirage caused by the heat--and disappeared entirely, paintbrush dropping to the ground with a clatter. The canvas and all its attendant accessories remained at the empty bench--as did Pegasus' briefcase, in fact. If Seymour cared to look inside, he would find not only a fair bit of paperwork, but Pegasus' personal deck of cards and a Duel Disk, (speaking of machina) as well as a pistol and box of spare ammunition.

((OOC: And Pegasus is out, unless you want me to change something! Sorry to keep you waiting so ungodly long.... DDX)

Well, that was rather unusual - he'd never seen what he'd assumed to be a flesh and blood person flicker out in such a manner. Images on spheres, yes, but it would have had to have been an impressive sphere indeed to allow the image to create and leave behind what had been left behind in passage. Therefore the only appropriate answer was that the man had vanished out of existance. Or at least been called back to his own proper world.

And in the meantime, he'd just pick up what the man had dropped. For safe-keeping, of course.

Picture Perfect [Active]

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