InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Me and my homies."

arrogant_black (arrogant_black) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2011-02-05 09:39:00

Entry tags:

eames, regulus black

Who: Regulus and Eames
What: Mario Kart and a little issue about Trust that needs to be resolved, will it or won't it?
When: This afternoon
Where: Reg's flat he shares with Merlin
Rating/Warnings: Low for now, will update if needs be
Status: in progress, closed

It was mid-day, the sun was gloriously pronouncing its presence through the slitted window shade, and Regulus still had yet to bathe or change out of his pajamas. If he had somewhere to go, people to see, things to do he would have made an effort at sartorial decency. As it was only Saturday and the greatest item on his To Do list was to beat that bloody infuriated Bowser, something best accomplished from the most comfortable position a human body could obtain, Regulus saw absolutely no need to don a clean outfit.

Even when someone started knocking at the door Regulus was undeterred in his slovenly situation. He even ignored it for a moment as no one had texted or called to say they were coming over for a visit, and he reasoned it must be for Merlin. And if that bloke on the other side of the door didn't have the foresight to call ahead to find out where Merlin was this afternoon, Regulus wasn't about to inform them of their idiocy.

But that person kept knocking, and because the volume increased with each round of raps and it was starting to become annoying he paused his game and got up to tell who every it was to come back another time. He almost grumbled under his breath with each slumped, heavy footfall, the kind only petulant child utilized when they wanted to express just how put out they were.

He pulled the door open with an exasperated jerk of his arm and the sarcastic remark froze on his tongue. His brow furrowed and he shifted his eyes to peer around Eames, uncertain what the older man calling on him meant. Clearly he must have tucked behind him a smallish woman who looked eerily like that girl Regulus was falling for more each day - though he wouldn't admit that to anyone right now. Ariadne was not in the hall behind Eames.

"Uh," he paused finally looking the man in the eye. "Good afternoon...?" He didn't know if it should be a question or a welcoming gesture.

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arrogant_black
2011-02-06 04:19 am UTC (link)

Involved as he was with the game Regulus didn't notice the parallel he'd made between himself and his House Elf. If Regulus was more present in the conversation he might have phrased things differently to be less leading, unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, for Regulus the little green creature was more engrossing at the moment. Eames was right to make the connection, even it it was unwittingly drawn for him.

Regulus, slouched down against the sofa and feet up on the coffee tabled, started flipping through the book as Eames spoke. Regulus wasn't much for modern art if it was just blocks of color or cubes or splattered paint. He liked to see objects in art, and he appreciated this Dali's use of objects, if it was hard to make sense of anything. "This one's there." He held the open book up to indicate the painting he was referring to, it had melting clocks in it. He remembered seeing it when he went with Morgana.

Even with the objects as a focal point Regulus wasn't sure what he was to think of the art, he was never sure with Muggle art. It was disconcerting for him that the subjects did not move, though, perhaps it was best these liquefying timepieces didn't as they would just soon be viscous blobs of mess if the painting was charmed. Regulus found himself tripping over whether he was supposed to take the artist's meaning or craft one of his own. He tended towards the former, knowing himself how difficult it was when no one understood him. But what was the artist trying to say with the ineffectually rendered chronikers, and with the rather barren landscape? Bah, Regulus would think about it some other time, as the answer probably wasn't even available.

"Not sure what to think of your muggle art, nothing moves," he said absently as he turned the page.

He wished he hadn't, had instead stayed focus on the wonky clocks, because he suddenly found himself staring at one of the artists more phallic riddled pieces. Regulus' trigger response kicked in and he slammed the book shut before going further. He cast a quick glance at his friend knowing that couldn't have been taken well, but he was unwilling to explain his aversion to anything hinting towards the sexual. One of these days people were bound to notice the disparity between him and his brothers approaches to sex, he hoped today was not that day.

"So," he tried searching for something to cover his sudden action, "what's with that?" He nodded towards the sketchbook in Eames' lap.

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dream_bigger
2011-02-19 12:54 pm UTC (link)

"'The Persistence of Memory'. It's probably his most famous work. A lot of people think it has to do with Einstein's theory of relativity, because it implies that time is fluid, like these melting clocks. But Dalí said that he was inspired by melting cheese, so perhaps it isn't. And... oh dear, I didn't come here to be a teacher," he said, realising he was in danger of launching into a lecture. He was about to comment on the usual thing his wizarding friends said when they looked at any work of art, and then froze for a moment at Reg's reaction to the picture he saw next. It pretty much confirmed a great deal of things about his young friend, although he couldn't help but be selfish and wish the trigger had been something other than what it had been. He liked that piece, damn it. Somehow, he didn't think Reg would want to hear the interpretation of it, though.

Careful not to react in any way that might spook Reg even further, Eames took a drink of tea, then looked down at his sketchbook. "What's with this is that my first years are working on a project, so I thought I should do it along with them. We have to produce a piece of art in a particular medium that matches a theme I had them pick earlier in the week. I normally work in acrylics or pen and ink, so I thought I'd do a pencil drawing instead. But I need to do prep-work first," he explained, busying himself with the pencils.

"Can you draw?" he asked once he had the canvas roll open, then started to flick through his sketchbook, looking through page after page of rough drawings of Ariadne and Phillipa making a model together, of Mal laughing over a cup of coffee, of Sirius's bike and Morpheus creating cities with a wave of his hand, even a few of Parker from when he'd seen her at the casino. There were other sketches of random people from the city, out jogging or shopping, kids playing in the park, all sorts. There were even a few drawings of his various forgeries, not that Reg would know the difference between them and the people from Colligo. Finally, he found an empty double spread, and then looked back at Reg.

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arrogant_black
2011-02-19 05:52 pm UTC (link)

Regulus thought the academic answer over in his mind. It made sense actually. "Well, have you ever had finely aged cheese?" Because that kind of thing stayed with you, and persisted in memory, good cheese.

Eames didn't comment about the shut book, there was a pause, it was most definitely noted, but the older man didn't try to question. And that sat well with Regulus, as kind as Eames was to him it was the truth he didn't trust him to discuss that part of him. But that didn't have to be explained because Eames didn't press for an explanation. Regulus was grateful for that and didn't waste any time taking advantage of the change in subject.

"Hardly, no," he said with a snort, he could barely draw a stick figure. "My artistic talents, if one could call it that, tend towards music, not the visual." He paid attention as Eames flipped through the sketch pad. His friend was good, though Regulus' limited artistic experience didn't lend much weight to his opinion.

"What do you plan to draw?"

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