rhapsody_in | 15 ♦ Committing crimes redeemed by art leaves me hungry

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15 ♦ Committing crimes redeemed by art leaves me hungry

OOC: Backdated to January 2nd

[Private to Motorcycle Boy]

Piper, I need your help. Bring the knife I gave you.

[There are three things Bleu needs in order to create her pigment: the Colorman's knife, a painting done with the Sacré Bleu, and a Colorman. She has the painting leaning against her cold fireplace, a Vermeer brazenly stolen from Amsterdam. Piper has the knife, and she has Piper.

Her cabin is sparsely lit, only the odd candle breaking through the darkness and casting off a dull yellow glow. She has a lamp full of oil and at the ready, but will keep it unlit until the drapes are drawn. She's dressed simply in a silk nightgown, her door unlocked and a burning taper in her hand as she waits.]

[Public, some time later]

[Bleu shakes out her hair -- this time it's black instead of blue-black -- and brushes it from her face. Her skin is pale now, the slight white-blue tint to it unremarkable for a human. Her eyes are still intensely blue.]

I feel fantastic. Who else is excited for the new year?

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[He has other knives--well, one now, since he gave the other away--so the specific request has his interest.

When he gets there he knocks and opens, as he usually does since it's easier than listening for an invitation. He almost forgets how to shut the door behind himself, though, when he sees it all.]

I can't begin to guess what the knife is for in all this.

[And, because it's true:] You look perfect.

[That ancient obsidian blade is what Bleu needs; she's never undergone the ritual without it. It's not for violence or bloodletting. It's a craftsman's and a devotee's tool.

When he opens the door she rises from the fainting couch, reaching her free hand out for his. She beams at the compliment, moving in to kiss the corner of his mouth.]

Thank you. [But she'll look far more fascinating in a moment.]

I'll lock the door and you draw the drapes, then I'll explain.

[He trails a hand over the ends of her hair as he turns and goes to pull the drapes shut. He takes care to make sure there's hardly a sliver of opening.]

[She smiles as he brushes his fingers through her hair, locks the door, and turns with her candle in hand, face illuminated.]

Have I told you about the Sacré Bleu, Piper?

[He thinks about it, trying to recall even a scrap of conversation about it.]

We've talked about sayings, but that's the only time I've heard it.

[He steps closer to her, reverent almost, but too curious to keep any real distance.]

What is it?

The Sacré Bleu is the rarest pigment on earth. It's the sacred blue, the Virgin Mary's color and many goddesses' before her.

[She takes one of his hands in hers and wraps it around the candle.]

It is godly. It's more than just a color. What's left of it is inside me, and can't be used until it manifests.

You're the only one who can help me do that.

[Nearly all the time, he has the appearance of someone at the zoo--or in the zoo for that matter: he may be curious or fascinated at times, but there's always a layer of glass, there's always a barrier between himself and the rest of the world.

That shatters right now, the moment he takes the candle.

He gives her a smile that's perhaps more alive than he's been in years.]

What would you have me do?