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31_days2008-11-04 12:04 pm
footseer.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-11-04 12:04 pm
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Title: Art is a cold companion
Day/Theme: November 4th // Competence as a Compensation for Loneliness
Series: Culture Shock and the Roses
Character/Pairing: Culture Shock//Christopher Stockholm
Rating: G or PG
Art was as cold a comfort as history, the driving force behind the ‘Superhero' Culture Shock’s life. He surrounded himself with it, taking his easy thievery as his one vice. And he did it well, oh so well. Not one single painting that hung in his museum belonged to him by right. And yet none of their true owners noticed them missing. After all, who cared for Manet when one could boast of a Monet? Or Picasso, when it was so much easier to understand ‘Renoir’?
No, all of his paintings had been ‘liberated’ from vaults and store-rooms where they had been moldering, gathering dust and –worst of all- decaying from neglect. Culture Shock found them, aired them out, and then showered them with love and affection that, in some cases, the fading paintings hadn’t seen for more than a hundred years.
His art was loved, appreciated and cherished. It was his source of strength and a constant reminder of all he had set out to accomplish. But a painting, no matter how much love was given it or how much effort went into obtaining it, could not return anything but inspiration.
And inspiration was a cold companion when the nights grew long and the wind rustled through the streets of NewCin. On those nights Culture Shock would stalk through the streets, attempting to fulfill what his museum inspired him to do. No corrupt officer remained unpunished, no child remained cold, no thug allowed leniency.
But even that righteous joy waned, and at the end of the night the man behind the mask would emerge, tired and alone.
Yet such soul weariness cannot last forever. And daybreak is not a time for masks and lies, things best kept to the darkness of a cold autumn night. Day light was a time for humanity, and watching the beautiful, imperfect world in shades of gray that darkness would render into unflinching black or white.
So the man behind the mask will allow himself this luxury of daylight, if only for a few hours. A time for warmth and companionship, a cup of coffee and a bagel, and the face of a woman he allows himself to care for as she shucks off her own badge of resistance and comes lovingly into his arms.
Batman? Who is this 'Bat-man' you speak of? <.< >.>
Day/Theme: November 4th // Competence as a Compensation for Loneliness
Series: Culture Shock and the Roses
Character/Pairing: Culture Shock//Christopher Stockholm
Rating: G or PG
Art was as cold a comfort as history, the driving force behind the ‘Superhero' Culture Shock’s life. He surrounded himself with it, taking his easy thievery as his one vice. And he did it well, oh so well. Not one single painting that hung in his museum belonged to him by right. And yet none of their true owners noticed them missing. After all, who cared for Manet when one could boast of a Monet? Or Picasso, when it was so much easier to understand ‘Renoir’?
No, all of his paintings had been ‘liberated’ from vaults and store-rooms where they had been moldering, gathering dust and –worst of all- decaying from neglect. Culture Shock found them, aired them out, and then showered them with love and affection that, in some cases, the fading paintings hadn’t seen for more than a hundred years.
His art was loved, appreciated and cherished. It was his source of strength and a constant reminder of all he had set out to accomplish. But a painting, no matter how much love was given it or how much effort went into obtaining it, could not return anything but inspiration.
And inspiration was a cold companion when the nights grew long and the wind rustled through the streets of NewCin. On those nights Culture Shock would stalk through the streets, attempting to fulfill what his museum inspired him to do. No corrupt officer remained unpunished, no child remained cold, no thug allowed leniency.
But even that righteous joy waned, and at the end of the night the man behind the mask would emerge, tired and alone.
Yet such soul weariness cannot last forever. And daybreak is not a time for masks and lies, things best kept to the darkness of a cold autumn night. Day light was a time for humanity, and watching the beautiful, imperfect world in shades of gray that darkness would render into unflinching black or white.
So the man behind the mask will allow himself this luxury of daylight, if only for a few hours. A time for warmth and companionship, a cup of coffee and a bagel, and the face of a woman he allows himself to care for as she shucks off her own badge of resistance and comes lovingly into his arms.
Batman? Who is this 'Bat-man' you speak of? <.< >.>