a subtle art,

{   T H E    F O R G E R   } it’s not just about depth. you need the simplest version of the idea, the one that will grow naturally in the subject’s mind. wendy's house | arthur darling

[veritetum]

♪ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ-ᴜᴘ ᴄᴀʟʟ || ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ

Silence pervaded at first as the prospect of returning home loomed very near upon the horizon. What awaited them up above, Arthur couldn’t help but wonder. Was the world any bit changed? A series of unanswered questions stung themselves through his consciousness, firing off every now and then with a brief incitement of doubt, or curiosity…

This world held little stock in reality. Everything he’d seen up until this point had proven that much. Fantastic things…unbelievable things… Powers and storms beyond reckoning, insane prospects that didn’t— that simply couldn’t exist in the real world.

       That’s because this world isn’t real…

                                                                                                        You’re in a dream.

"Eames!" The yell accompanied a brief pounding upon the locked door before him. He must have heard the news…the prospect laid before them. And again, the man was no fool; surely he would have known Arthur would be coming to try to sort things out.

Conversation regarding the state of their reality had been limited since their arrival. Opinions which had once stood in sharp contrast to one another slowly began to align. For it was, little to Arthur’s own knowledge, that it was not merely his own pessimism which was infectious…but the undeniable (albeit potentially misleading) cry of the totem Eames held not the misfortune to be taken captive. No….as far as Arthur was concerned, it was in Eames’ tried and tested faith in reality that he would need to secure his sanity.

Or else…his excuse to succumb to this dream without question in favor over reality: to stay.

Backing ever so slightly it was now that the Point Man double-checked the address. This was Wendy’s house alright… The Forger had to be here. So it was again that knuckles sounded against the door with a few rapt calls to attention.

"Asshole, open up."

Tell me what to do.

[fantaisium]

Opportunities were scarce within the realm of this city, if not merely limited to the happenings that took place in the towering limits that forbids each soul to escape. The wheels of his mind turn in processing the information spoon fed to each individual, dangling such a tantalizing promise above their heads to watch them prance about in an obnoxious manner. And, while many fell to instantaneous decisions, it was only suitable that the forger was to fall into a deep contemplation on what was proffered to him.

The loud knocks upon the door draw his pondering to a halt, grey hues lifting from the scrawled writing upon papers that had not been touched in several hours. Albeit the familiarity of the voice that yells, he does not find himself compelled to answer the door... rather, remaining seated until the next set of pounding and a more derogatory name filters through the door. Thus, he takes it upon himself to stand, thudding down the steps to alert the visitor to life inside the dwelling before metal clicks and the door finds itself no longer locked. Swinging open the door, there is no brilliant smile to greet this friend of his. Only a quirk of a brow with a stare of mild curiosity.

"You do realize we have phones, right? I'm sure you'd have been perfectly delighted to remind me I'm an asshole through that," he quips before the entrance opens entirely. There is no outward invitation, only his step away before he sits himself in one of the living room chairs as he waits for the Point Man to locate a spot he finds comfortable.

Leaning back, his index rubs itself against the top of his lip whilst tilting his head to the side. "Here about the announcement, 'ey? You look more lost than a puppy, you know. Should I assume it's your indecisiveness on if you should stay because of the connections you have here or the obligations you have back home that brings you here?

... that or you just take pleasure in insulting me. One of the two."

[modusponendo]

To: [Eames] From: [???]

*Incessantly. - SH

------------------------- Sat. 2/XX/14 @ XX:XX

[fantaisium]

TO: ??? FROM: EAMES

Much like your talking. Now piss off. --------------- SUN, 2/2 @ 7:28AM

[modusponendo]

To: [Eames] From: [???]

Occasionally. - SH

------------------------- Sat. 2/XX/14 @ XX:XX

[fantaisium]

TO: ??? FROM: EAMES

*constantly. --------------- SUN, 2/2 @ 7:26AM

[modusponendo]

To: [Eames] From: [???]

*smarter - SH

------------------------- Sat. 2/XX/14 @ XX:XX

[fantaisium]

TO: ??? FROM: EAMES

*toddler. Which is what I assume you are. --------------- SUN, 2/2 @ 7:25AM

[modusponendo]

To: [Eames] From: [???]

I've given you more than enough as it is. But my question would be why you sought to dispose of them here of all places. Don't bother denying it. The streets are full of eyes often disregarded after all. Hardly a perfectly flawless replication; not the kind I'm used to, I'll admit. But you can't tell me you were that disappointed. They'd still pass muster after all. So why? - SH

------------------------- Sat. 2/XX/14 @ XX:XX

[fantaisium]

TO: ??? FROM: EAMES

Hardly. Had you paid attention to my last text, you'd see I hadn't, hm? It'd be smartter to deny it then as futile as it'd be if someone planned to. I've said it before, it's none of your business. Making forgeries of poker chips to "pass off" would be a waste of time in this city, regardless. Now do me a favour, won't you? Piss off. --------------- SUN, 2/2 @ 7:24AM

[modusponendo]

To: [Eames] From: [???]

--- Picture Msg! ---

I wonder how often it is you travel out of your way for an ounce of peace. Odd place to dispose of trash. - SH

------------------------- Sat. 1/XX/14 @ XX:XX

[fantaisium]

TO: ??? FROM: EAMES

And this would be? How often or where I travel isn't any concern to a stranger from an unlisted number, thank you very much. --------------- SUN, 2/2 @ 7:20AM

[stilinskitown]

“I think positive emotion trumps negative emotion every time.”

[fantaisium]

Fingers run through brown tufts as he steps out of the house, one hand shoved into his suit pocket as he glances about. There is a refreshing sensation to the frigid air that he breathes, having been cooped up in the personalized building for far too long. Circumstances happened, most certainly, resulting in the sudden recluse behaviour that surpasses the usual instances he displays. A few paces along the streets, he halts. Damage from the previous event still lingers, one brow quirking as he glances to the person next to him to engage in a quick -- nigh detached -- chat.

"Looks like the state of the city hasn't improved much, 'ey? Not particularly surprising."

[fantaisium]

There were a number of people in Wendy's life that acted as pseudo parents to her in the absence of her own family. Very much an orphan, there were times she'd needed the extra pick me up and she could count on them to help her out, even if they had little interaction outside of those online games she played with them, or she simply didn't meet them often. Still, she'd wanted to show them all that they were important to her, so she'd found them all and presented each of them with a small box. "Merry Christmas!" she'd exclaim, quite clearly super excited for the holiday.

Within the small box was a cellphone charm. It was a small dragon, the charm itself made of silver. Upon the others opening it, Wendy would reveal a silver bracelet around her arm, a charm representing each of her friends dangling from it. The dragon was supposed to symbolize Wendy, but more-so their bond. Friendship was oh-so-important to the twelve year old, and to possess proof of that relationship meant a lot to her, even if they might not feel the same way.

To Wendy, these people were her nakama, her family. She loved them, even if it wasn't mutual.

Lifting the charm to examine it, he could not help but let the large smile he had carried throughout the day grow even more. Albeit minuscule, the sentiment behind such a gift was enough to satisfy himself let alone anyone who preferred such a thing over that of a material good. And, though he had begun to waver in such thoughts as a firm reality, he would at least allow himself to let that feeling of appreciation remain for but a bit longer.

[fantaisium]

3H3H3H3H3H3

H4PPY CHR1STM4S 34M3S!!!!

[You hand him the small bag giggling nonstop.]

"You shouldn't have," he jests, taking the bag from the giggling young troll. To say he was expecting anything remotely serious would be quite the lie, considering the gift he had bequeathed to her. That did not stop the lethargic seeming grin that sprawled across his lips at the sight of just what she had gotten him. "That so? Never knew you thought of me as a dad, Terezi. Though not inaccurate if so, I'll admit."

[fantaisium]

As opposed to the rest of his deliveries, Joshua leaves his gift to the man at the door, not even bothering to ring the bell. The best presents are often the ones found by surprise, anyhow-- is his train of thought.

There's a fairly large bag in the middle of the hallway, a delicate "To my dearest Mister Eames~" written on a tag. He'd find that the contents match the size in weight should he bring it inside, the sound of plastic as the insides shift around.

Lo and behold, there is plastic inside-- and as it turns out, the gift in question actually gives purpose to his earlier nonsensical questions, and is probably the reason why he's not there to personally deliver it. However, safely hidden under the first present and a festive bow is another, something perhaps with juuust a tad bit more value to the man. A simple note card tops it all off: "Merry Christmas. -Joshua"

There was an unmistakable chuckle that could be hearkened from the room which the forger resided in, crinkling papers set aside as he unwrapped to discover just what he was gifted. Humourous, much to his tastes... he could appreciate a fine joke gift as this. And, in all honesty, he would have enjoyed it all the same even without the more valuable gift accompanying it. Letting fingers trace along the edges of feather atop the quill, there was a brief smile given in genuine gratitude, however. Placing it aside atop a desk where it would not be broken nor tampered with, he began to peel open the box to gain access to the other.

If Joshua didn't think he was going to set it up in good fun, he was sorely mistaken.

[fantaisium]

"Eames-chan! Eames-chan!"

[ She cannot believe they haven't spoken in so long. After he came to her during her birthday and gave her a shiny beautiful guitar, there were scarce instances in which they spoke to each other, and Ibuki's sad about that. It must be fixed asap! It feels bad to only have something like five minutes before she retires to send more gifts, but she'll try to make them value. 

Arms wrap instantly around the man, her face burying into his shoulder. Whatever he was doing has been interrupted by a familiar multicolor-haired girl who's thrown herself at him like a train at the end of line. ]

"Geesh, Ibuki thought you were gone from the city or something! Was worried a lot about you! Anyway-- you know which day it is, yes?"

[ The hug is loosened so she can bring up two small boxes, handing them to him. They're both neatly wrapped in brown paper. ]

"Here! They're not as good as the guitar thing, but Ibuki had no idea what you would have liked, so she had to improvise!"

[ A pair of actual earrings, and... an MP3 player. She practically beams at him, waiting for a reaction before she speaks again. ]

"Dunno if you like to wear earrings, but Ibuki figured at least one of them would make you look cooler than you already are! And as for the player, Ibuki's put a few of her favourite songs in it-- but there's loads of space for your favourite music! It's a kinda advanced one!"

[ The clock keeps ticking. Sighing loudly and looking at her watch, Ibuki gives him a timid smile and then hugs him again, briefly this time. ]

"Merry Christmas, Eames-chan. Let's talk again sometime, yes?"

The familiar vocables accompanied by his very name was all that it took for the man to halt his strides. Slate coloured hues turned to rest upon the young girl who had approached him, only for him to feel the slight squeeze of her hug that she had proffered. Not that it was much of an issue, most certainly, one hand lifting so that he could pat her head and allow a subtle smile to form in return.

"It'd take more than that to get these scientists to revoke my stay here, y'know."

Gaze drifted, however, to the two minuscule boxes after he had spoken his part. Fingers unwrapped the paper restricting each before lifting each lid open. It was only a matter of time before lips sprawled into a laid back grin that seemed as if it belonged within the confines of a sleazy bar. Albeit such, it was enough to express his gratitude that he had ever crossed her mind to give even just one gift, let alone something as generous as what the second box contained.

Placing both items gently back into their containers for safe keeping, he gave her a quick squeeze akin to a bear hug before pulling away. "I don't wear earrings, but I have an idea on how to wear 'em. No worries on that. And I know just what songs to put alongside yours on this," he reassured, moving to ruffle her hair a bit in a playful manner. "Same to you, and I'll remember to keep in better touch, 'buki--"

[hisfairassassin]

[fantaisium]

!drink with me: [closed]

Fingers straightened the hems of his nigh dilapidated suit, fixing up loose ends and making himself presentable to the public eye. Tonight, if possible, he had made plans to be out from beneath the roof of what he hailed home for the current standing. One to relax any of the stress away in retrospect of their inescapable situation of being held captive in this faux city. After all, a prisoner needed air at times... and, in time, they were given it albeit a few short hours per day.

Footsteps echoing through the halls had seized the attention of the thief, grey hues flicking to the corner as he called out. "Koujaku," the name foreign on his tongue, yet enunciated as it should properly compared to a massacre that a friend of his might cause. Taking a few steps forward, he rounded the corner before leaning against the frame. Arms folded over the other, a smile was proffered in light of what he was about to suggest.

"I can't quite recollect the name of it, but I do know I owe you a cocktail," vocables cordial, fingers tapping against his forearm gently in his usual fidgety manner. "Feel like going out for it tonight if you're not busy?"

[fantaisium]

!home for the holidays: [closed]

This city was a peculiar place, favouring the forger well despite the overall situation that many seemed to have forgotten in their lingering days. To believe that he would had been invited to reside in proper housing would be a bit of a stretch, one that he was quite grateful for to the young girl for allowing him an escape from that dirtied district. Thus, it had been a surprise that he had managed to orchestrate for her... one he had hoped she would enjoy, at the very least, that had taken them only a little walk to locate.

Knees bent so that he could squat down to her height, making it easier for him to utter his next sentence than when towering over her. "You can open your eyes now," speech quick as he tapped her shoulder gently in case she could not hear. And, whenever she did, her gaze would be met with a field of a multitude of trees of several shapes and sizes. Lips smiling a bit, he leaned over and bumped his shoulder with her own playfully after a few seconds.

"I'd say it's about time to take home a tree to decorate, 'ey?"

[veritetum]

ᴠᴇʀɪsɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ || ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ

Before them stretched a quiet evening, the patio heir to few souls willing to brave the cold which had accompanied the swiftly-falling night. Far above, pinpoints of stars flickered into sight—one which Arthur had little opportunity to enjoy, given his current residency. For, whether below ground or above, there was no hope for Arthur to revel in just a sight as this, as the curtain of smog which obscured the skies was trademark of the infamous Industrial Sector.

So it came to be that he relished it now, taking to lean upon the bordering rail of the patio which would keep him from toppling to the grounds below. Since parted from their more recent…considerably disagreeable company, it was a grand tension which had settled in Arthur’s shoulders—one in sore need of alleviation.

Drawn from within the inside pocket of the classic suit blazer he had donned, a cigarette soon procured itself from the carton the Point Man bore in hand. He had suspected he would have need of it sooner or later at an occasion such as this…and he was not mistaken.

“I don’t suppose they could kick me out for having a smoke.” The comment, however nonchalant, was in itself a placeholder. For, there was more he wished to address his company regarding; as the recent memory of the bordering altercation with Tony Stark fresh on the mind…and the defense Eames had taken up for Arthur’s sake.

However, the gratitude he felt did not present itself straight away, a silence instead reigning where the extractor placed the cigarette between his lips, after a moment extending the carton in offering to the Forger opposite. Granted, he admittedly did not expect the man to take him up on such an offer, merely taking the opportunity to stall before launching into that which he so hesitated upon to express.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

[fantaisium]

Several within the brimming room of company might perceive it as peculiar that any would desire to seek refuge in the frigid air upon the patio. Granted, few had done so during the course of the night... only to return swiftly upon realizing the actuality of the winter zephyrs upon their lack of proper apparel. For that, he could only be grateful that they might enjoy a moment of peace with no other to disturb them. No unwarranted guests to eavesdrop, nor those they did not wish to mingle akin to the prior company they had just defected from.

It was only when the Point Man had made his idle comment that the forger himself let grey hues peer upward. Had the bitter nip of the evening not alerted him to passing the threshold of the outside, perchance he might be subtly startled at the shift of scenery. "They could, but I think you'd have to blow the smoke in their faces for that," he quipped, lips flashing into a brief smile before elbows pressed against the balcony edge.

Movement seized his attention upon the proffered carton, only to pause for a mere moment before extending his own to slide a stick out from the pack. Resting the end in his mouth loosely, he rummaged through his jacket to locate a silvern cased lighter for their use.

"Do what?" The initial query as a brow quirked. "Tell him the truth? Don't know how that man is able to have a successful company before with an attitude like that. You'd think it'd make him gain quite a noticeable weight on his head when placed in front of the camera," he gibed, the essence of a brief smirk to his own mockery apparent on his lips. Metal clinked gently as he surfaced the item he had sought, tilting his head and handing it over to his companion while leaning entirely against the railing lazily. "... 'course I did. You'd think I'd stay quiet when you didn't deserve any of that? You pick your battles wisely, Arthur... you'd never pick one with him. You're a better man than that, and that's precisely why I spoke up."

[chiropteranknight]

The Subtle Bat

[chiropteranknight]

Bruce laughed lightly at the other man’s quip, bringing his drink to his lips once more and taking a sip. Now he and this other man blended in perfectly within the crowd. “Can’t imagine where they might take me,” he said to the man with an amused, but false, smile. “Hopefully, somewhere I can order take out, at least.”

At his guess, Bruce looked at the man for a moment, a smirk tugging at his lips. He surveyed the area for a moment with his eyes, as if trying to look for a gap between people before he could speak freely. Then again, with this many guests, Bruce might as well say out loud that he was the Batman and none would even turn their heads to acknowledge him.

"Well," Bruce said, his attention now back to the man. "I don’t like to keep still. Besides, missing out on a party this big? Not gonna let something like abduction stop me." The ex-billionaire paused for a moment to let a couple more pints of the fruity beverage into his system. "…You’re not from around here either, are you? I’d wager you’ve been for far longer though."

[fantaisium]

Somehow he could only find the response humurous, something one should take lightly. Although he knew not who this man was, even the most foolish could not take a startling relocation as this so laid back. Whether it was a genuine pleasure or not, he would simply leave it to his imagination for the time being. "That so? That's an admirable trait. Not many you see being able to truck along like that," he mused, brows quirking briefly at the very notion. Had there been one thing he could admit at the very least, it was that he could appreciate his approach on the subject.

"I'm a citizen, but not a local," he noted, the last drops in the cup drained before he discarded the useless item to sit upon the table. "Two months and a little more. I don't expect to be going anywhere anytime soon, unfortunately." There was a finality in his tone, despite vocables laced with a mild desire to be released back to where it was he had been plucked from. While he was not one to make such a home in this city, it was only logical to accept this minuscule tinge of reality he was certain of.

One hand found comfort within the walls of his pocket, his other scratching at his chin briefly. "I'm sure there are veterans compared to me in this place, but I'm willing to help if you need any answering," he began, nodding his head in the direction of what seemed to be a secluded patio. "We could talk where it's less crowded, if that's what you were looking around the room for earlier? Could use a bit of fresh air, anyway."