velesdonnersen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
velesdonnersen) wrote2011-05-13 01:25 am
velesdonnersen) wrote2011-05-13 01:25 am
Back on the Doghouse Again...
[The doghouse in the backyard of 1126 Taylor Road is turning into Tarvek's personal little corner. He sits on the roof, with just enough shade from a shade tree, and just enough sun, and the doghouse has a flat peak, so he can sit comfortably cross-legged. He's there, today, far more sober than he's been in awhile, in more senses than one.]
[The kids run back and forth, as usual. Tarvek's got Perry mowing the lawn again. Catherine's been on the swings, and then jumped rope for awhile, and then she sat on Tarvek's lap for a bit, and now she's kneeling on the patio drawing with sidewalk chalks, because "Daddy" is up on the doghouse roof drawing himself. He's working in a soft drawing pencils -- wide, flat-leaded ones, slim ones with well-sharpened points. He's drawn the children. He's got a good eye and hand: he trained as a draftsman, of course. Most sparks do. But he's also semi-canonically an actual artist, both sculpture and painting. His drawings of the kids seem to race across the pages of his notebook.]
[But the big picture he's drawing is of someone who is no longer there, and who no longer exists. She's a bland, gentle-faced, vacuous blonde with a pretty smile, a perky nose, a classic 50s wave perm, and a dress that's trim to her upper body, but floofy around the hips and legs: all petticoats and floral print. He's drawn her as though she's just beginning to turn to leave, raising one hand to wave as she goes.]
[The kids run back and forth, as usual. Tarvek's got Perry mowing the lawn again. Catherine's been on the swings, and then jumped rope for awhile, and then she sat on Tarvek's lap for a bit, and now she's kneeling on the patio drawing with sidewalk chalks, because "Daddy" is up on the doghouse roof drawing himself. He's working in a soft drawing pencils -- wide, flat-leaded ones, slim ones with well-sharpened points. He's drawn the children. He's got a good eye and hand: he trained as a draftsman, of course. Most sparks do. But he's also semi-canonically an actual artist, both sculpture and painting. His drawings of the kids seem to race across the pages of his notebook.]
[But the big picture he's drawing is of someone who is no longer there, and who no longer exists. She's a bland, gentle-faced, vacuous blonde with a pretty smile, a perky nose, a classic 50s wave perm, and a dress that's trim to her upper body, but floofy around the hips and legs: all petticoats and floral print. He's drawn her as though she's just beginning to turn to leave, raising one hand to wave as she goes.]
[Her name was Betty. She was his drone wife. He wasn't in love with her, but he found her gentle, silly, sweet, well-intentioned, and likable. Like all drones replaced by "real" people, she's disappeared without a trace. Not even her photos in the house remain. Her children don't remember her. There's no sign in all of Mayfield she ever lived. Tarvek and his quick little pencils are trying to remedy that.]
You are walking, flying, etc. You see Tarvek, sitting on his doghouse, drawing soberly. His kids bustle around the back yard. Inside you can hear someone new, singing beautifully. Tarvek looks up from his work, sees you, and waves, calling to you in friendship, whether you're a stranger or an associate.
What do you do?
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[Oo, sketch. Tarvek's glance catches Nall's attention and he cranes his neck to check it out. What is it? Ooo, mebbe a bromide?]
Well, I'm not exactly sure what it would take to do that... but you're a smart guy. If you think of something, I say go for it! I'll help you in any way I can!
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I'm just beginning to see the ways it could be crazy.
[Sees Nall trying to sneak a peek at the picture, and considerately turns it so Nall can see.]
It's the drone wife they assigned me when I came. They... wiped her out the other evening, to bring in a new prisoner. I know no one here thinks they're worth even being polite to. But to me, they're like nice, if dumb robots. It bothers me they just destroyed who she was that easily. Even her kids don't remember her. That's sad.
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That's a really nice bromide, Tarvek. Heh, you really are a man of many talents!
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I'm glad you like it. Why do you call it a "bromide?" Where I come from it's called a sketch, or a drawing.
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Huh, bromide seems to be a term that only pops up back on Lunar. No one I've talked to in Mayfield seems familiar with it... but back home, bromides are collectibles, and sometimes very rare! Artists draw or paint them when they found people who inspired them... I used to have a whole collection of them.
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[He's died at least once, too. Sparks tend to take dying in stride. It's the coming back from death that can get showy. He's quite admiring the fact that Mayfield brings people back with so little fuss and bother, and no going crazy and turning into a monster and killing people. He got to skip that the one time his mun knows he died... but it was still showy and unpleasant and scary and too close for comfort.]
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