Cıтч øf Bяøκeи Søυłš {ᶳᵉᵐᶤ⁻ᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ ʳᵒˡᵉᵖˡᵃʸ} discussion

The orphanage is funded by the city council, much to the resistance's dismay. The building is more like the rest of the Middle City Slums, however. It occupies the lower part of one of the skyscrapers. It is made of a cheap stone that is still a step up from the wood of most of the buildings.

All the furniture is old, but at the same time, it used to be of the quality of those known of in the Heart of the City, making them nicer than what most families in the Middle City Slums can afford.

The kids are all younger than sixteen. All the kids begin attending school from before they turn eight if they arrive at the orphanage young enough.

Thus, the kids are taken better care of than they are elsewhere in the Middle City Slums. This, combined with years of government propaganda, leads the kids to believe that the city council honestly cares for them. Despite this, rules are strictly obeyed and harsh punishments are not merely hearsay.

The kids are turned out to the normal world after they turn sixteen. However, they are all examined, and if they pass, they can get a job with the city council as a spy, as part of the police, as a janitor, or when there's an opening, even become a council member.

Roleplay!

Sadie strolled up and jumped the low maintenance gate, squeezing between two faded white picket wooden boards, before barely pulling her paint cans through. She had about a dozen or more, of various colors, and she wasn't sure how well she could work in the dark. She had a flashlight, though, and an adjustable ladder, so... It took a long time, but at least she got through without alerting anybody. She rolled her eyes as she got the cans and the ladder set up. The dry plaster was wearing away and peeling without protective paint, and nobody had given enough money for them to actually paint the place. So... She figured, murals. And it was almost advertising for her art, and boy did she need the advertising.

Sadie picked out a suitcase, full of at least fifty brushes. Her car was parked out front, a tiny little mazda. It was a miracle she'd gotten the ladder strapped on, but she had the plates blacked out for this run, in case she got caught by someone nasty, and had to explain things to her dad. Besides, she'd been planning these murals, to go around the spiraling curve in one of the corners, then all the way around the corner, people, a face that looked different, depending on the angle it was viewed, hair that looked gold in some lights, red in others, brown or black in another. So many colors, so many blends to make, and so little time...

Sadie scaled the ladder, slapping on a slash of bright red paint and primer.

Evander had been helping out at the orphanage. It wasn't much, but he could give them new furniture, new toys. Buy all the food. Things that weren't money because the people who ran it could just take all the money for themselves, and Evander didn't want to help them. He wanted to help the kids. He was on the city council -- the city council on which there was no one who really gave a shit about the people. Maybe Isis, but she was really it. The rest were just really fucking self-absorbed and wanted everything to go their way. So Evander figured someone had to be the good guy, and since Uncle Zo wasn't around to do it anymore, Evander figured it ought to be he that helped. And besides, he liked helping people, in particular children.

Of course, what Evander was not expecting was the woman on a ladder. Well, he thought woman. Really she was more of a girl, probably only just of age. It was late, which really was the only reason he was "safe" enough to be out right now. Even that safety was relative. The only thing that was safe was his identity. Everything else . . . well, Evander knew how not-safe all that was all too much. And it was just about then that it occurred to Evander that she had paint in her hand.

So a criminal then. A vandal. No wonder she was out so late. He considered it mildly ironic that she happened to be doing this where he could see her since he was one of the people she would not want knowing about her little venture. He felt like rolling his eyes. She had no visible defenses. That was something that was dangerous for her. He was not going to hurt her, but so many others could. It was stupid not to have means of defending oneself at all times. It would give a person at least part of a fighting chance. Even Evander carried a weapon, and he was a decent guy. But he had learnt that the hard way. "Well, hello there."

She jumped gripping the wall. What was already there was by no means grafitti, and the paint was far too high quality, not crude spray. She held on, barely maintaining her balance, letting loose a soft curse. "Sh!t, you scared me!" she hissed, glancing back, trying to appraise the guy. It was hard to see him, he was near the gate. She didn't really have a weapon, which she regretted... but she hadn't expected anyone to see this until the morning. The big cans of paint were just lying there, two or three with the lids off. She had several smaller bowls around her, and her hands and arms were already covered in paint. She'd finished a rather large slice of the front of the building. Maybe she'd only have time to paint a little of it... Maybe just the front tonight, with the best mural, but not much else... she'd underestimated how long it would take to do all this.

"No offense, but it's late, you're kind of creeping me out, so could you very politely sod off? I'm in the middle of something?" she smirked, waving slightly, as she added a curve of gold to the swirling red.

"No offense, but it's late. You're kind of committing a crime, so could you please sod off? I'm in the middle of walking home," Evander mimicked, raising a mildly unimpressed eyebrow at her. He removed a stray strand of dark hair from his face. Nope, the woman definitely did not realize that he could have made an example of her in the streets then and there if (a) he liked the police enough to ask that of them, or (b) he were interested in pathetic displays of self-interested power. That would have been his father in the later years and definitely not Evander. Evander knew the woman was lucky he'd been the one to see her there. He crossed his arms. He didn't feel the need to exaggerate the advantage he had here with the weapon and the greater size. He didn't like when people did that to him, so he wouldn't do it either.

"Look, I know it's late, that's the whole point of being out here and painting this wreck so it'll last just a bit longer, jerk, so move your @$$ before I pull my piece and take a chunk out of you." There was no gun, but she was kind of getting scared. Way late, she had no defenses, and some random creep -he certainly LOOKED creepy- was trying to get her down the ladder. On the street with him? No way. She'd climb on the roof and kick the ladder down and call her dad, and she did not want to pull that card. (a) Her dad would totally lecture her about being out alone so late at night and probably have a cop watch her house or something. (b) He would never let her have more than a gallon of paint ever again. And yes, there was a major issue of control in their relationship.

Sadie had stopped painting, and was now at the top rung of the ladder, her hand leaning probably a bit much on one of the roof shingles.

Evander noticed her look of concern. It annoyed him a little. Besides being able to kill her -- he did have a weapon and was more physically powerful than she was -- there was very little he'd actually be able to do. Not that she would know that or that he actually wanted to think about that anyway. The joys of traumatically crazy backstories, that was. He frowned before effecting a neutral expression. "Of course. But do understand, miss, I'm like a declawed cat. I look terrifying, but I'm one of the least dangerous people you'd ever meet. I'm not going to tattle." The simile was true in more than one way, and technically, he would not actually need to tattle to do anything because of his position. Still, he'd really rather the girl not be scared essless by him.

She stepped down slightly, to better keep her balance up, just staring down the stranger in the dark. "If you come any closer, I swear..." she let the threat go unvoiced, because she wanted him guessing at how she might be able to defend herself. So... if he wasn't going to tattle, then, she could keep painting... She was working on hair right now, long, bright hair, and it melded into gold, then brown, then black.

Evander could not help but watch, really. His sister didn't paint, but she liked building things. Evander had always found her creating things fascinating, and apparently, that translated here, too. He took a single step closer to her just to prove he was unafraid, shrugged, and then took a step back to demonstrate he really was not actually interested in causing her any harm. Because really, one of the most passive people in a position of power and only that recently due to a wonted bout of nepotism. "What are you painting?"

She snorted, glancing over her shoulder. She didn't see him step closer, but saw him shifting along back there. "Something light, I suppose," she said, shining the flashlight over what she had already. She was just blending the skin right about now, getting ready for the forehead. She was going to do two faces, a female and male, so every kid would have someone to look up to. That's why the hair would change, and the skin as well, but every feature would be sharp, the eyes would be bright, awake, hopeful... "There's a sketch by the ladder. If you touch the ladder or the paint, you're getting it." He hadn't screamed for the cops or anyone yet... that could mean he was a criminal. Or just curious. But she was pretty freaked out.

Evander nodded and walked over to the wall. He put a hand on the ladder for a second. He made no move to destabilize it, but he left it on long enough she was sure to notice its presence also. And then he removed his hand, proving he was not going to try something but also that he was definitely in control of the situation. Half of that was to prove it to himself as much as to her. He'd been out of control of a delicate situation once, and he'd never be able to recover from that. Never. He crouched down on the ground, careful to angle himself in a way his lacking in a certain area would not be even remotely obvious. He'd learned to do that ages ago. The knife with him was also hidden still, too. He glanced down at the sketches. "These are cool. You did them all then?"

She frowned nearly toppling and getting freaked out almost immediately. He was going to push her over! She nearly knocked over the paints, staining a streak down the front of the house. "Hey, back off! I said no touching!" she was freaking out. This was totally not going as planned, and she didn't paint as well if she was scared or constantly anxious. She couldn't really get into the zone. That peaceful serenity, where the colors went together so amazing.

Evander shrugged. He was never actually going to hurt her. Just make a rather obvious point that he felt he needed to make. Maybe there was a little of his father in him. Still, he was not touching the ladder now, so he certainly wouldn't be knocking her over. It was just a bit of a more obvious point than if he had touched the paints. He felt no need to get near the paints, actually. He flipped through a couple more of the sketches. He made sure she knew that, too. "Color me impressed."

"You sick jerk," she hissed, "Get away from my stuff and back off, you creep!" Was he getting all controlling? Really? Over a stranger painting up the orphanage for charity? He had to disobey every single thing she tried to at least have some sense of security. This was just getting freaky, now. She reached for her pocket, really not wanting to call her dad, but maybe her brother. He was good at that. Street fighting, keeping her safe when she needed it. She really hoped she wasn't interrupting...

Evander noticed her reaching into a pocket. Judging by the size of the pocket, it had to be a phone. Which was really brilliant. Cops would be a bad idea because {a} he was the city council member who liked police the least due to certain events in his past and because {b} he was on the city council. So family member who would not give an ess then. As far as he was concerned, she was technically a criminal. He knew nothing of her motivation, and if he did, he'd probably compliment her and give her money to keep doing it. But she hadn't communicated that it wasn't anything more than petty vandalism or a new canvas, so he had no clue. "You invited me," he pointed out. "And I'm not the hurt-people type. You do nice art." He did take a step back, though. Mostly because he wanted her to stop freaking out and not because he had to or even needed to.

(("Look, I know it's late, that's the whole point of being out here and painting this wreck so it'll last just a bit longer, jerk, so move your @$$ before I pull my piece and take a chunk out of you."

That's what she said a bit ago.))

She swallowed, bringing out the phone and putting her brother on speed dial. On button press and he'd be right there, to help. "I said you could look at the picture, not that you could rifle through my art, or touch the ladder, or get too close, you're pushing it, weirdo," she said, holding the little phone lke it was the best weapon ever.

((Gonna sleep.))

((He's perceiving this differently than she is. He knows she doesn't have a distance weapon and he has a knife, so he isn't viewing her as a threat. Also, maybe her weapon's in a different pocket?))

"Look, I'm not about to hurt you. If I were the type to do that, I wouldn't be hanging here talking to you. I'm not a crazy. And if I were, anything that would happen would have happened ages ago." He tried to push emotion into his voice with a debatable degree of success. He was right, it would have. He'd met one of those crazies. It'd been all sex and pain with that one, pain that had made him faint, and lack of limb that would always be with him. He'd never have children of his own, and that weighed heavily on him. He was considered dangerously nice on the city council -- dangerous to himself with it. He was raising his half-sister and her other half-brother as his own kids with some help from his beloved half-sister because their dad and the kids' mother were not fit for parenting. "My name is Evander Oomen, by the way." He didn't add his surname because his family had been on the city council a couple generations, and that might give away his identity.

((Lol, yup! :D))

"Evander, like the councilman, right?" she asked. Despite looking like a complete and total vandal, she knew a lot about the government and the officials, and her dad was obsessed with drilling them when they were kids, for some reason. "How do I know that's not a fake name you made up on the fly to lure me into a false sense of security?" Okay, yes, she sounded paranoid. But this was completely what she was trying to avoid. She was in the slums late at night, and the only reason she wasn't calling help was because of how embarrassing it would be. "So, if you're going to just hang around, can you grab the Sun-Bright paint and get that corner painted, even just at the base?" She pointed at the lower right area. "I don't think I have enough time to do all the murals, but the front is just as well, I can come back later and do the rest."

Evander had not really been around most people in about a decade, so his name would not be recognized from his oh-so-immense public life. He'd only been a member of the city council for about a month. He'd refused the position the first time on the grounds of not actually wanting that power. And why did he really deserve it anyway? None of the people on the city council really did, and yet they were there. He was the moderate, the good guy amid the ill of heart. "How do I know you aren't communicating resistance ideas or a plot to kill me?" he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "The fact we are talking to one another begs that we have a little faith that we are not going to murder one another or do worse, far worse." Evander looked around. "Sun-Bright?" He looked down at the paints, but he found himself unable to determine which was which.

She rolled her eyes, climbing down the ladder. She was quite a bit shorter. "You saw the murals, you idiot, what is going on in our head that suddenly I'm trying to kill you, a stranger on the street, or commit treason, which is punishable by death? For God's sake!" she hissed, "I'm painting murals on an orphanage, and you're treating me like a criminal, but yes, right now? I'm about 60 percent sure you're not going to hurt me." She strolled through the paints and got a white-yellow can, with the signature color identification splashed on the lid. "Paint and primer, keeps out moisture, termites, rot, that sort of stuff, if this place doesn't already have it."

The painting terms meant nothing to Evander as he had never painted or been told how painting worked in the past. He just sort of watched as she walked over to one of the cans and as she painted on the wall. "You do realize vandalism is a crime, miss. You should take more care in the future," Evander pointed out. It was not like he would do anything about it, but he knew some of the other council members would flip a tit if they knew he had let a vandal go. He shrugged slightly and looked down. Evander was considering leaving. He didn't want to upset her. Seriously, he didn't; he just wanted to assure himself nothing horrible like that last time would happen to him again. He took a couple steps back toward the gate.

"Vandalism?!" she choked, before lowering her voice. "This place is falling apart," she put her feet shoulder width apart, planting her legs and stamping her hands against her hips. "If it doesn't get a fresh coat of paint, it will fall apart, and then where will these kids go?" She snorted, "And what better paintings for kids than some murals, something light and peaceful? Idiot," she shook her head, slapping more paint on the wall, turning her back on him.

"Then you should have posed it to the city council, specifically me, ahead of time. But without the city council's approval, it is a crime." Evander had to try not to be bitter about that. No one really gave a shit even about the things that were illegal unless they were ordered to. It was a fact Evander was bitter about. Had he his way, the police commissioner and most of the officers would be replaced and retrained and monitored closely to see that they were actually enforcing crimes. He hated the current system for very good reasons.

((I feel like the rp is coming to an end))

((The RP? Like... The group or this rp?))

She glared over her shoulder at him. "Oh, so you are one of the pompous windbags up at the council," she shrugged. "Right. It's a crime to help without talking to you, but you don't give a crud about the real criminals, as long as they don't step on your toes about anything," she shook her head. "It's much nicer to say the Council was praised for approving a charity painting of the Children's hospital, and specifically designated which stroke went where, and probably that it be painted a solid, sensible color, or some of that rot, rather than actually get down and do it. There's no such thing as a gift that isn't gagged upon, if it is a surprise, when it comes to your council."

((This rp))

((Oh. Okay.))

((Because I don't see Evander really wanting to stick around at the moment because of her accusations. He's really not comfortable at the moment and is going to leave the situation. Kindly though.))

Evander raised his eyebrows at the comment about "real criminals." He did care. But so many of said people worked for the city council. It was why he hated the police. On of their number had chopped his dick and balls off and then raped him, and the culprit had gotten away scotch free. As a result, Evander actually did want to fix things. Get rid of all the actual criminals that worked under the city council and all of them in general. "You think you know everything, miss, but you don't know me at all. I'm going to leave. But I will mark the project down as having been approved yesterday so that it is legal, and if you have any future projects of this nature, I'll approve them." He smiled and backed the rest of his way out of the gate.

((Okay! XD))

She glanced at him, frowning. "Of course I don't know you. But I'm very familiar with how this Bureaucracy works, and how they govern their muscle men. I mean, the pompous windbag thing, sure, that was... ouch. But... Yes, isn't that how they think, if you don't?" she frowned, confused. "Why are you approving this, then?" She shook her head. "You don't even know my name, and I practically burnt your every action." She shook her head at his back. "You could totally call the cops and have my dad throw me in a cell. So why?"

Evander didn't dignify her with a response. The answer to that was personal, and judging by the fact she hated him without actually knowing anything about him, without knowing Evander, with her forcing the man in front of her into a stereotype to which he refused to belong, Evander did not want her to know the answer to that question. And she was the daughter of the police commissioner, whom he was planning to get rid of first. There was no way. "You refuse to see me as anything more than the group you stereotype as the scum of the city. It's none of your business. Now good day." He turned away from her, looked back and waved politely, and prepared to be on his way.

"You're not exactly proving otherwise!" she snorted. Just let it go, she told herself, you tried to apologize and apologize, and apparently you completely offended this guy so much that he can't even hold a conversation with you, -no. No. You're not that bad. Stop it. It's okay, he just- it's his problem, you tried to apologize. She huffed, trying to get back into her artsy mode. After all... he had come up and started threatening her and touching everything she told him not to, so wasn't that him waving some stupid chauvinistic dominance thing all on her face? She tried to get mad at him, so she could try to justify the guilt she felt in her chest. She turned to the painting, then turned back. He was even waving, like this whole encounter hadn't meant a thing to him! She snorted, throwing him from her mind, burying her mind in her actions, in the paint. It was easy, when she worked herself up enough, to dull herself and fade back into painting, to express herself in ways she never could. In fact, maybe her encounter with him allowed her to finish in time... And even continue without consideration for time, painting around and around, until the entire orphanage was covered, in her blur of motion, and she was exhausted. She had to get out of here now, she just... the sun was rising.

Evander did not feel the need to reply to anything Sadie was saying. Part of that was because he emotionally couldn't do it. And part of that was for his own safety. He knew that none of the current city council members were Zorion. He couldn't exactly reveal that the reason he'd been out at all was because he'd found a way to (finally) donate all of his inheritance to the orphanage. And he had told no one but his sister what had happened to him and what he would be attempting to do from the inside of the city council. He didn't need validation. He needed the world to be a better place than it was. Earlier, he would have run if the person painting were male. He was already aware of that. He didn't get around people much, and a man alone in an alley was something he couldn't handle after everything. Even though the person had turned out to be female, that fear had still remained. He'd needed to prove to himself that he was in control, that nothing like that would be happening to him. The prospect terrified him. Evander tried to fight back these thoughts as he walked toward the flat with his kids and toward where he lived with his life.

End

((Aw, he's so adorable... And tragic. :P Good RP!))

((Indeed. Almost done -- by my standards -- with another character. I have two others that I will have a lot to do for after that, but I may have thoughts on a character that could work as a collab with Sadie or Nikolai.))

((Oh, awesome! I can't wait to get more involved in the group.))

In the morning, voila! A beautiful mural!

((=) I'm excited for you to be more involved.))

((There are many paintings all over, blurring from one scene to the next, but the most prominent ones are:
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Of course, in less detail, more painted than Computer art. Imagine each one a bit more 2-D and grainy paint.