Goldenrod ex, 5/8 undersized (closed)

[amaure]

Who: Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus, Estinien, Ziva, Urianger (maybe Dirk)
Where: Goldenrod city, mainly Emet-Selch's small apartment, but also elsewhere in the city.
When: 22nd-25th
Summary: The party has now reached Goldenrod, and they have decided to make Emet's life hell. You know, how most of his relationships do. He ain't single and he ain't ready to mingle and yet...
Rating: Will update as needed, gen for now.


When he had sent Estinien to retrieve Hythlodaeus, he had not expected there to be others among their traveling group! Let alone others from their own star—one of which he is familiar with, the other...well, in a way he is, but he hasn't fully gotten the confirmation she may yet be who Hythlodaeus suspects she is. The hero of the source he knows is not a small blond woman, but an average height brunet man, and as such he's left a little conflicted with the possibility of such differences.

Regardless of all of that, he did not expect the group to arrive at his rather quaint apartment. Barely is it suited for Hythlodaeus alone, but especially not five people in total! The knock on his door was expected, but not the slew of faces that assaulted his gaze upon opening it. His exasperated and dramatic flourish of his discontent was likely more amusing than scathing, and while he had little choice but to let them in, it did result in him locking himself in the bathroom for a time.

Glad as he is to see Hythlodaeus at long last, there's something ruinous about the unexpected company! Particularly when a certain dragoon looks both smug and amused, with that small grin of his, at the vexation brought on by these ill-turn of events, and Solus' clear surprise. Finally with some coaxing, he finds himself among them once more, looking none too pleased about it, but what can he do? Sure, he could tell them to leave, but he knows what a fool's endeavor that will be.

If this were to become the usual among their group, if his dwelling would be their landing whenever they arrive at Goldenrod, a home base if you will, then something will have to change. For now, this is his lot, terrible though it is.

Comments

[amaure]

Well, to say all of this is breathtaking would be painting it in a far more positive light than it deserves, and yet Emet finds himself holding in a breath at the sight. It's...not exactly what he expected, not by a long shot, but somehow it...fits Dirk, even if it's a lot to take in all at once.

He's an eccentric man, to say the least, and while he didn't expect to see anthropomorphic pornography blatantly plastered on his walls, nor the strange array of puppets everywhere, he takes it probably far better than one might assume he would. The clutter is not something he expected from him neither, but he does note how impeccably clean everything is. Well, he cannot fully blame him for such mess, if Dirk's mind was anything like his own, there were endless thoughts that made for messes, and his own abode might be similar if he didn't put his ghosts to the task of keeping it all tidy.

A smile is creeping on his face as he walks in, finally taking that breath he seemed to be holding as he steps over a smuppet that's presently in the face-down-ass-up position. His eyebrows raising with amusement as he looks down at it. For being a described "prude" and for all his protesting when it came to physical affection...it's quite clear to him Dirk's a bit of a sex-obsessed dude.

Not that he minds.

"Well, you certainly do not hold back when it comes to your passions, do you?" He asks with clear amusement in his tone, but it's not a cruel sort of amusement, it's not mocking. If anything, he almost sounds endeared by the oddities of his taste. He's about to turn and look at him, but something on the wall catches his eye—a drawing from a hand he's far too familiar with. He freezes and stares at it, his brow furrowing with surprise.

"...Hythlodaeus drew that—I know his artwork anywhere."

Why the hell did Hythlodaeus draw Dirk a horseman...

cw nsfw implied, with apologies to Michelangelo

[uber_marionettist]

This is actually the first time Dirk's had anyone in this room at all besides himself and his Pokemon, but it's not the first time he's received commentary about his cramped and busy lifestyle, and he's ready for the first remark with a one-sided shrug, like it's not worth comment or affect to be the way he is.

There's some truth to that, too; he's really never lived any other way. The size of the room in question changes sometimes, but if a livingspace can be considered representative of its inhabitant, then there's definitely a full Jungian analysis to be found in Dirk's practise of packing the full range of his disparate collection of high-intensity interests and occupations into a single room.

He'd actually half expected Emet to express some level of offence at one part of the scene or another, so his feelings about the whole thing as he closes the door behind him are pretty uncomplicated.

He does pause as Emet recognises Hythlodaeus' gift art, though.

"Yeah. Isn't it magnificent? No words do it justice. I've seen some exquisite art in my day, but this? This is the sublime in two-dimensional monochromatic render. Like if Michelangelo graced us with anything worth jacking it to. I'm thinking of getting it framed."

Look he probably deserves this

[amaure]

What an honor to be the first to enter such a dwelling. Well, one might not see it as such, but it certainly does serve as an intimate display of Dirk's character and interests. Perhaps the fact Dirk has allowed him to come and stay with him is but a show of his good faith towards this relationship of theirs—or maybe this was another test. Either way, it does not bother him.

Dirk's very clear admiration for Hythlodaeus' artwork is warming in its own way. He isn't surprised that Dirk would appreciate art of any caliber, there's a certain way in which he holds himself, in how he presents himself that's rather theatrical. It speaks of the artist that the man is, even if he's ever a strange one—but then again, what artist isn't?

"He has ever been talented in his artistic rendering. Yet, this is but a mere sketch of his, should you see his artistic skill in their true glory—now that would be worth framing." Not to throw shade on this particular drawing, but it's a very apparent rush job, if Emet's ever seen one. Besides, it's on lined paper, and while that adds charm, it does not add much else to the image.

Deciding he'll puzzle out why Hythlodaeus gifted Dirk such art later, he turns his attention back to the puppets and the...smuppets, bringing his hand to his chin to lightly cup it as he regards them, "it would seem you are also a man of artistic persuasion—though I would not have pegged you for a...toymaker."

[uber_marionettist]

"Hm, yeah." Dirk studies the sketch for a moment, which he'd pasted on his wall with the utmost care. "I like the freedom of initial expression and raw concept conveyed in the sketch, but I'd definitely love to see more."

Sadly, any possibility of further conversation on that topic evaporates the instant Emet makes the mistake of questioning his puppetry.

"They're not just toys," he starts, "though obviously they're that, too. I don't apologise for that. But the creation of figures in man's own image goes back to pretty much the dawn of humankind itself. Humans are able to recognise their own species or likeness in effigy from a pretty early age, and identify the features that constitute a meaningfully-defined face even earlier."

He's picked up a robotic eye in one hand and a smuppet in the other. The eye is trailing wires. There is a mechanical eyelid, pale 'skinned' and fluttering dark eyelashes in Emet's direction. Dirk has already begun to gesture with both of them.

"Whether you're talking modern or historical, though, the primary difference in whether these products are defined as a 'toy' or another form of art isn't colour or material or subject matter, but the level of intended interactivity. It's not until your objectum personae have full autonomy or else serve as a prop to a larger piece of art that they cease to be regarded as literal children's play. And even those works are often aimed at children. Somehow the act of animating the descendants of humanity's oldest creations is regarded as inherently juvenile."

A pause.

"I disagree, though."

[amaure]

There's always another day they can regard Hythlodaeus' art, and if Emet's to be honest, he's far more interested in Dirk's own art form, and what he has to say about it. As he goes on about them, gesturing with that eye and smuppet in either hand, Emet gives him his full attention. A smile curling his lips, as his arms cross over his chest.

By the end of it, he's not sure if he should be as endeared as he is by Dirk's clear love for these puppets, particularly when they're so...well, what they are. But he is. The passion he has for them, despite his general aloof way in which he holds himself, is plain, and passionate souls always resonate with him. Particularly artistic souls.

"I have found that aught at all can be regarded as juvenile, but more oft than naught such is born and bred through ignorance." He offers as he looks to the smuppet in Dirk's hand, "most do not wish to know nor understand something that seems strange to them, and so instead such is met with harsh scrutiny and judgment. Infantilization in some cases."

Letting his arms fall to his side out of the cross over his chest, he walks over to Dirk, reaching over to take the smuppet from his hand if he'll let him. Wanting to examine the thing, "you may find it interesting, that even in Amaurot, well before the time of man, we had our own marionettes—though fair different than these of your particular fancy."

[uber_marionettist]

There's a kind of tension that builds in Dirk when Emet smiles at him like that while he talks, a combination of the awareness that he's being judged and the private fervor of knowing he's right, with the accompanying need to make that known.

It doesn't show, he's pretty sure, because no one else has ever commented on moments like it, not in any physical terms anyway. But there's a kind of relief, like a knot untied, when he gets actual agreement.

Which he can assume also doesn't show as he hands the eye-searingly yellow and candy corn orange plush to his partner, ass first. Its long, springy legs jut out in either direction as he does; it doesn't really stare back at him, though, since its eyes are in fact focused in two distinctly different directions, albeit oriented vaguely upwards.

He barely waits for Emet to take the little guy, though, before he's already looking for another one.

"Oh yeah? I mean, I'm not surprised," he's saying when he finds it--propped up in a corner and drops the lone sky-blue eye on the edge of the table to retrieve a long-limbed wide-eyed rod-and-mouth puppet that he supports briefly in the crook of his arm before he gets his hand inside its torso and can demonstrate it properly. The puppet turns its head to regard him, and then to regard Emet before nodding vigorously in agreement, like it too was expecting this piece of information, all the while Dirk's own face fails to emote at all.

"But I'd love to hear about them." Then, in case that somehow wasn't clear, he adds, "I mean that."

[amaure]

Emet's not giving Dirk his total attention, seeing as he's looking the smuppet over with mild bemusement (the ass is so pronounced, and he wonders if that's for comedic purposes, or—the mind boggles—sex appeal), but he is slightly aware that he's digging around for something. The movements eventually catch his full attention, as Dirk settles the puppet onto his hand and actually...puppeteers it.

For a second, Emet just stares at the puppet, a baffled sort of smile on his face—but again there's no judgment. If anything, he's genuinely entertained by this, and maybe he feels the slightest bit of, well, pity for a man who is so infatuated with puppets like this. Not because it's childish, and not because it's an any lesser form of art or acting, but...well, there's something to be said about someone who seems a bit like a loner, but surrounds him with that which mocks the truly living.

Hm, maybe that's not too far off from why Emet mingles with mortals...now there's a thought.

"Oh, very well. Let us have a—" his eyes trail past Dirk to look at what's available in his abode, and it's...certainly not much for sitting. He supposes there's the mattress on the floor, and the mass of pillows. His eyes flick back to Dirk and the puppet that are both staring at him,"—ah, well. Nevermind. As I was saying, Amaurot loved the theatrical arts, regardless of the type. Ever have I been a patron of such, and ever shall I be. Puppetry, as I am sure you know, has ever been a part of theatre, and as such we had a great array of them, though most did indeed bear our resemblance—robes and mask alike."

He turns the smuppet over, so he's regarding its face, strange though it is.

"Ours were not controlled by typical strings, nor as that one in your possession is manipulated. Rather, our puppeteers would do so through their magic, enchant their creations." He glances to the spare fabric around, looking for a sewing machine.

"Mayhap I can make you one someday—though it will need modifications, seeing as we both are sorely aware that the necessary enchantments are impossible here."

[uber_marionettist]

He will find no sewing machine anywhere in the room--not even amongst the clusters of questionably-assorted tools that dot Dirk's workspace(s). There, he'll find a soldering iron, wrenches, pliers, a pincushion, screwdrivers, and a couple stray spools of brightly coloured thread.

In other words: he does it all by hand.

Dirk no idea what to make of Emet's expression at this point, and a crease forms between his brows.

"Enchanted as in autonomous with a script, or enchanted as in direct control? Or as in both, I guess that's an option. Magic just kind of does whatever, at least where I'm from."

[amaure]

That actually impresses Emet more, and when he realizes that there is no sewing machine at all, he glances back at the stitch work on the smuppet in his hand. It is expertly done, and his eyebrows raise with astonishment.

Truly an artist.

As his eyes fall back to Dirk, he notices the crease, but only offers him a disarming smile. "Aye, one or both have been used. But, true puppeteers enjoyed the feel of direct control, for they oft found it a far more genuine act of artistic intrigue, one more of heart, soul, and passion! Than it would have been if they left it to mere automation. And I would have to agree."

[uber_marionettist]

Emet's response is not as much of a surprise as it would be if Dirk wasn't certain the man is just telling him whatever it is he thinks Dirk wants to hear. Which is a risky strategy: this is Dirk, after all. It's so easy to get him wrong.

As a result, Dirk tends to find it insulting at best. At worst, it's obnoxious to the point of becoming actively antagonistic.

Emet, though... Emet is surprisingly good at it.

So when Dirk's eyebrows rise over the tops of his shades, it's genuine. It's a real novelty, listening to someone else's words and hearing his own thoughts reflected in them. Without even his own direction or narration to make it happen... fabrication or not, he likes it.

As is often the case, though, his reaction otherwise very subdued--just the partial upturn of one corner of his mouth.

"Ah. I see you're a man of culture as well."

[amaure]

"As should have been plain from the first," he says with a sweeping gesture towards himself, "but I appreciate a man who wishes to perceive aught below the surface, ere making his conclusions."

The one thing about Emet, is that he's pretty good at reading people, pretty good at figuring out what makes them tick, what makes them work. Which, naturally, makes his ability to lie and manipulate an easy enough affair! However, in this case he certainly is not doing either. As it happens, perhaps he and Dirk are cut from the same cloth, so to speak.

He does notice that ghost of a smirk though.

"But it does put my heart at ease to know I was not wrong about you," he begins again, but then does a cursory glance around the room, "though, admittedly, I did not wager your interests had aught to do with any of...this. I consider it a pleasant surprise."

Pleasant, because it's entertaining. Adds some interesting layers to Dirk, and it's rare when someone can surprise him.

[uber_marionettist]

One of Dirk's eyebrows stays up; the other returns to what might be considered 'resting position,' even if Dirk's got one of the most inhospitable resting faces of any human in history.

He glances from the marionettes hanging from the ceiling to the smuppet in Emet's hands.

And the faint uptick at the corner of his lips doesn't dissipate back into a flat line.

"You think this is surprising?"

[amaure]

"Well, I certainly did not expect it at the very least." He admits simply. Shrugging in an ingratiating manner, keeping that smile all the same. Though, before he continues, he looks again at the smuppet in his hands, his expression thoughtful.

"Ones whom have such interests, in my experience, do not carry themselves as you do. It is a nice change of pace. Not quite the interests themselves are by any means strange nor surprising, rather, you break the mold."

He looks back to Dirk, tilting his head curiously, "I do so hope my surprise is not upsetting, scant do I wish to insult you, when truly all I have is admiration."

[uber_marionettist]

One eyebrow lifts, but Dirk doesn't ask what he means. Not that he isn't curious (he is), but he has some suspicions. Really, most assumptions Emet could make at this point wouldn't be untrue, and regardless of how derogatory the antecedent, the conclusion is rightfully in his favour.

He is better than his so-called peers in just about every way but one. And that one appears to matter little to Emet, so what is there to worry about?

(A question not to be asked except in the relative privacy of his own thoughts.)

"Not at all," he shrugs easily. "Not sure if you've ever heard the saying, but as they like to say, 'Curiosity killed the cat, but the satisfaction brought it back.' I just like to know."