Gallery: Queen of Hearts

[Vae]

ooc

This Opening event Gallery is scheduled for February 16th between the hours of 6pm and 9pm. Sunset is at 5.45pm; so all vampires are welcome

The location is the ACAI studios and Gallery, which is in Fair Oaks (which is split between Citrus Heights and the Communal Hunting Grounds, and has no Werewolf pack’s territory marked, however it is outside of the marked areas fo the Changeling Freehold.)

Information about this event has been posted on the Events Section of the Sacramento Bee: Here

At the corner of Winding Way and San Juan a Gallery that Vaeltia had only recently heard of was opening. It was a specialized collection centering on the empowerment of women, and considering her own art talent, it was something she saw as worth while.

The Blond artist was dressed in the same copper dress she had worn to the Reverence on new years, although with a different flare though the look was similar enough.

She had arrived half an hour after the gallery had opened and her eyes were almost immediately drawn to the watercolors along the first wall.

[Heath Moore]

Being a comedian meant that Heath had a lot of time on his hands when he wasn't doing a show, and tonight he wasn't doing a show. Sacramento had tons of bars and nightclubs for him to frequent but he had gotten a tinsy-weensy burned out the past couple nights. Even so, he just couldn't keep himself indoors for very long, not with the great big city out there bustling about, full of desires to fulfill, even if they were only his own.

The Minstrel took to the streets, keeping a fresh look about him. He stopped by the Players Pub & Grill for a drink and watched the last few minutes of the bantamweight title fight between Renan Barao and Michael McDonald on UFC pay per view. Violent stuff. Then he meandered around until he ended up at the Fair Oaks Theatre Festival, only to realize it was closed, being an open-air amphitheater. Running out of places to frequent he saw a little gallery with a sign outside reading Queen of Hearts. Sounded pretty exciting, and it didn't hurt to support the local city artists, starving as they were.

Heath pops his head in, swiveling his eyes around the immediate area. Lots of women, he noted, which wasn't bad. Women liked art, as far as he knew. He sort of hovered about the doorway, waiting for people to tell him he wasn't supposed to be there, though no one had yet. Heath smiles. "Women's Wisdom," he reads aloud on some of event fliers laid out on the table by the entrance. He picks up one and pages through it as he idly walks to the first piece of the gallery.

He tilts his head from side to side, as if having trouble making out the image. Glancing to the woman next to him in the copper dress, he tried to convey a similar look of interest. "Mmm, swampy," he said, letting out an airy chuckle. It sort of reminded him of a wetlands or swamp, though he didn't see many of those up in Washington, being mostly semiarid steppelands.

[Vae]

Vaeltia was appreciating the Art, the way an artist would: with long looks and the attempt to understand it. It wasn’t the most spectacular thing she had seen, but then when you could see the movement of electricity in walls or the pulse of the city’s beat things like simple watercolors don’t stand out as much.

“Sure swampy, but it’s a beautiful landscape.” she said as her eyes shifted over the painting. The woman who had painted it had skill. “Do you paint?” she asked the man as she tried to place his face.

Had she seen him before?

[Martha Villiers]

She had being out on Patrol.

Martha was expecting to meet Beasts and ready for them. But the name of the exhibition was interesting. Fascinated, she paused at the door to the Gallery, gripped at her cane and waited a moment to calm her own Beast.

So it was with a confident demeanour that Martha limped into the gallery.

Eager to explore the meaning of the gallery and the exhibits. She smiled and took a moment to look for fire exits and fire appliances before stepping further into the gallery.

Her limp is hard and obvious, she seems to make good use of her cane.

Smelling of fresh lemons, petite Martha is dressed sweetly in what looks to be an Edwardian English school uniform: a black 'winter pattern' felt broad brimmed cap...it carries a small embroidered cap badge showing some heraldic crest that matches the one of the embroidered badge on her neat black blazer. A pair of scholarly wire-framed spectacles are perched on the end of her nose. Her long ebony dark hair is tied into two long twin tails with red silk ribbon bows.

Tonight she wears a black pleated skirt with a hemline a whole daring inch above her single knee. This reveals her remaining lower leg with its black kneesock to be slim, trim and neatly toned. Her left leg appears to be an obvious above the knee replacement metallic C-Leg.

Resting on her simple metal walking cane, she spends a moment admiring the setting...or possibly checking for threat...her cheery smile never falters.

Empowerment was something close to her heart.

Picking up a leaflet from the desk and her eyes went swiftly...not to the first watercolour, but to the lady in the eye-catching copper coloured dress.

She was speaking with a dashing looking gent next to her. Fascinating!

[Dillon Connery]

Still stuffing car keys into his pocket after having found a place to park his battleship car, Dillon Connery follows not far behind the tiny Herald. Wearing a suit the color of dark wine, with a black shirt and no tie, the Gangrel straddles the line between formal and casual about as much as one can.

The secret is, he doesn't put too much thought into it. And thus, his own easy confidence does the rest.

Coming to a stop close enough to Martha to peer down at the leaflet in her hands, looking past her shoulder, Dillon has already scanned the area and general premises. Though, not obvious about it. He wants to enjoy himself tonight, but of course, there is always a duty to uphold. One that he is proud to.

"Wonder what's on the menu," he says jokingly, but quietly. As though he either doesn't expect a response, or isn't seriously pursuing one.

[Heath Moore]

Heath was glad his remark hadn't offended. He was probably lucky she didn't just turn her chin up at him and walk off. It'd happened before. "Oh sure, I paint with words when I can, meant to delight and entice. Being in a Gallery, though, is kind of a nice change of pace. Everything's stuck in place and they don't care if they're being heckled." He glanced back to the painting, trying again to see the beautiful aspects of it. Buildings, colors, distance.

The not-quite-well-known comedian doesn't notice the other arrivals yet, figuring that all sorts were coming and going tonight, though he heard the door opening and closing and the brush of chill air to suggest it.

He looks back at the woman again, asking as an afterthought, "Why, do you paint?" Wasn't that something that painters did, go to galleries and look at other painter's paintings? Or maybe it was her piece...but then again painters were often their own worst critics, weren't they?

[Vae]

“Yeah I paint, have you ever been to Club Avalon in midtown? she asked with a smile. “The big painting that hangs over the bar is one of mine, if you’ve seen it.”

Vaeltia was proud of that statement, it was one of the few paintings she had sold that she actually knew where it was, other than in a gallery

She said with a smile and a puff of air. “Landscapes are one of my favourite things to paint, that and portraiture. But you say you paint with words... like a poet?”

[Heath Moore]

"Get outta town!" exclaims Heath with unusual excitement to Vaeltia. "That was you? You're kidding me?" The questions were, of course, rhetorical, meant to express how impressed he was. And he made no effort to conceal the surprise, probably reacting a little loudly for a quiet gallery showing. "Well if that don't beat all. I head to the Avalon every so often, but didn't really think about who had painted that piece. Ya know, I just thought it was decoration." As one doesn't consider who tiled the floor and wired the lighting, he just saw it as part of the atmosphere of the club.

"But yeah, not really a poet, per se, but you can call it poetry if you want. I'm a stand-up comedian by trade, so I like to weave words into comedy, lighten up the crowd." Yet even saying so, he felt the fact was less impressive than having seen her talent. He knew that even if he tried he probably would never construct a splendid painting. Probably stick figures at best.

[Princess]

Into the gallery stumbles a tallish young lady of non-obvious heritage, dressed in her latest thrift store treasures and a coat that looks like its seen better days, but not in a long time. And a closer look at her showed that perhaps she, too, had seen better days; she had the subtle but distinctive puffy, messy appearance of someone who wasn't taking care of herself, and a keen nose would reveal a clue on her breath.

Clearly, it was the scent of lime and orange that explained everything... never mind whatever else that was.

She seemed to be dancing a bit as she walked, moving with an ironic facsimile of grace given that she might actually have been stumbling about if one payed attention to it, but fortunately for her benefit, there was something warm and wonderful and cute about her that hogged the spotlight. And she had such nice, happy, yellow shoes on, too: https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphot...62271756_n.jpg

Art is nice. I should do more of my own art. I'm sick of others stealing my mojo! I'd be the best artist ever, mused the Muse to herself, catching sight of a familiar face to whom she offered an awkward wave. ( Heath Moore )

[Martha Villiers]

Tiny Martha studied the leaflet and looked around. Smiling as Dillon came close she hobbled over to greet and meet him.

Smiling widely she held out her free hand to hold his. Popping the leaflet into her blazer pocket and hooking her cane over an arm. The small creature limped closer to Dillon.

"Oh my! Oh, sir! It all looks so...delicious!" she coos with excitement...her eyes falling to Vaeltia's sleek calves.

Blinking she turned her gaze to Dillon. Listening for a moment she caught snatches of conversation...landscapes...comedy...poets...

Then the door opened and she was struck by the sudden arrival of the young lady with Yellow Shoes.

Martha blinked. Her small hand held tighter to Dillon's. "Golly!" she gasped. "Look at those shoes!" Martha's attentions were now focused on the shoes and she seemed to urge Dillon to examine them too. The Art all around her had suddenly paled to tertiary, perhaps even quaternary, interest.

Yes, there will be time to enjoy the Art later. Perhaps even time to find out about the other gallery visitors, but the striking lady with the yellow shoes and the dancing gait was suddenly in her cross-hairs.