November 23, 2012 03:23AM
Roleplay Live : Group : The Death Club
The Dog Day’s of Duke
DrakonMacar: – Duke had been lounging around his studio all to himself. He’d cleaned his guns, vaccumed, swept. Took care of the dishes, Mrs. Hellen down stairs was an angel enough to do his laundry for him, he’d just put away the freshly cleaned and already folded clothes. Duke had left the surround sound system runing on low to provide a sort of ambiance
“I’ve got spurs that jingle-jangle-jingle.” ‘Jingle-Jangle’. Duke grinned and shook his head, having stuffed a pinch of his pipe blend into the bowl and lit, drawing casually, puffing to catch the smouldering flame. He exhaled as he watched the sky, hat tipped, boots kicked up on the railing of his balcony as he laid back in his rocking chair. It was a calm, quiet night, something he direly needed before he took a plunge into the dangers of the world in which he’d worked. The sun was getting close to the horizon, not twilight, not dusk, just late in the afternoon and the shadow of the building across the street casting half the balcony in the coolness. He dared a smile at the easy going Saturday.
CharlotteCarrendar: – Coming up the stairs, and having made it past Mrs Hellen’s with little or no fuss, Dixie was on a mission of sorts, to see Duke again. One reason, cause she wanted to sketch him for her collection, the other, to possibly find out about the wiley Corsica, who he dragged up the stairs, at the Death Club. Dressed in a simple black tank top, that showed a bit of midriff, and pipe leg jeans, nike runners, and an oversized floral bag, she looked like she was off to the markets, dressed so casually. Last three steps, and she put in the effort, puffing out, as she caught her breath at the top. ~I sure hope he is home.~ she thought to herself, going to his front door, and knocking twice. “Duke?” Dixie shuffled nervously, pulling on the edge of her art bag- <3>
DrakonMacar: – “Hmmm?” Duke lofted a brow and leaned forwards at the knocking. “…ah.” He got up and walked back inside, the audible footfalls of his boots likely to be heard behind the door. He peered through the spy hole and there was Dixie. “Oh, welcome Dixie. Just a second.” He unlocked the door and opened it, holding it open for Dixie to walk in at will. Then he spied the art bag, his look shifted to sudden puzzlement. “Come on in Dix. What brings you?”
CharlotteCarrendar: – Dixie bent her ear to the door, trying to hear if there was anyone home, when she had sung out Duke’s name. Thankfully, she could hear the sound of his footballs getting closer to the door from his side. “Oh, welcome Dixie. Just a second.” this is what she did hear, a quick greeting, and the locks all turned to allow her to enter, once he opened the door. On opening, he held it, like he wasn’t sure if he should be letting her in. Dixie smiled brightly, and held forward her art bag of supplies. “I apologise for being unannounced, but I thought I would stop by and see if you would like to be captured in my sketch book. I..saw you the other week and you said it was alright to come over.- Dixie hadn’t let go of the idea, of sketching him for her collection. Dixie took another two steps, and reached in her bag of treats, offering it to Duke spear min juicy fruits’ “I can come back later if you have company.” <3>
DrakonMacar:- Duke grinned with a chuckle and small shake of his head as he closed the door behind her. “Yeah, I know. I was there when I said it after all. Naw, you’re not interrupting anything. I was just alone with my pipe and some thoughts.” He looked down at the bag, his hand raising to his chin as he rubbed the stubby left overs from his shave earlier in the day, as usual, displaying 5 o’clock shadow for the Arizonan. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in letting you draw. I guess it’ll give both of us somethin’ to do. Just don’t expect me to strip down all sudden like. I’d need a few glasses of a strong whiskey first.” He chuckled, walking past her and waving her back to his patio and then gesturing to the chair at the small table near the grill. “Hopefully that’ll do ya good. So tell me, how’ve you been? I ain’t seen hide nor hair of you in a little while.” He picked up his pipe again and puffed lazily, keeping it to his mouth as he picked up his knife and a small block of wood that he’d been shaving and chipping away at and on for some time now, whatever he was doing it looked like it had at least two legs.
CharlotteCarrendar: Grateful for his hospitality, and the fact he seemed to be in a generous mood, she fiddled with the catch on the art bag, whilst he got in behind her and closed the door. Taking out a mint for herself, she popped it in her mouth and chewed, bobbing her head, as he said he was just alone at home with his pipe, and his thoughts. Duke appeared relaxed, a bit of a five o’clock shadow going on his chin, and this reminded her a little of one of the musician’s that played at her father’s pub. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in letting you draw. I guess it’ll give both of us somethin’ to do. Just don’t expect me to strip down all sudden like. I’d need a few glasses of a strong whiskey first.” Dixie couldn’t help but release something of a giggle snort, at that idea. “Err…no I haven’t done nudes since…well, its been a while, so you can keep your clothes on for this. Last thing we need is a nude model whose had too much to drink. Hard to draw you if your sliding off your chair.”- Dixie joked, making her way out to the patio, and sitting herself down. Dixie placed the art bag on the outdoor table, and withdrew her sketch book and shading pencils. There was a pleasant breeze, that was now teasing her hair gently, while she got set up with a nice fresh page, and her pencils all in a neat row. “How have you been? I ain’t seen hide nor hair of you in a little while.” Duke asked, obviously concerned about her since it been two weeks since the club was opened. “Surviving. Hard when the club isn’t opening. So, been doing a few portraits. Oh…that’s not why I am here, if you think I want money for this. I don’t…I…” * embarrassed, she broke the first pencil she picked up.* “Bugger.”-she exclaimed, and brought out a new pencil. Seeing he picked up a knife and a small block of wood, Dixie asked. “I didn’t know you whittled? I see the legs there, are you making a chair?” <3>
Drakon: “Oh there’s loads folk don’t know about me. Mind you, any cowfolk worth his mettle is gonna know his way around a knife. In the meantime kid, you just breath in and out real easy like. Nothin’ is liable to cause you any problems so long as I’m near by, so you’d be wise to just unwind some.” He made a long slice along the wood peice and then gestured to the grill behind Dix. Inside were three carved figurines in the rough shape of Dixie, Inga and Kraus. “I’m making my co-workers if you wanna know. Took real care for Inga and Kraus. I intend to give these to them as a kinda way to repay ’em for my mistake after… Well, after the bathroom incident.” He sighed through his nose as he held the log to Dixie, a pair of long human legs in pants were that obvious. “So for right now, I’m making Dem.” He took a long draw and puffed his cigar as he looked to the sky. “It passes time to be honest. A guitar can only entertain a fella for so long.”
CharlotteCarrendar:- Turning her head, to where Duke had gestured, Dixie could see, the three carvings, made from wood, whittled by hand. Stunned momentarily, a smile crept upon her features, even dimples exposed. Face radiant, for she recognised the small carvings, to be none other than, herself, Inga, and Kraus. “They are incredible. I don’t know what to say.”- Dixie marvelled in the fine detail, the amount of craftsmanship that was required to make such objects. Art. Duke was an artist too. Returning to listen to Duke, she turned her head back, and rested her hands on her lap. “You had to do this from memory. Like how I draw sometimes…well, most of the time.”- Duke, in his explanation of how dedicated he was to the detail of his carvings, went on to say how he was going to give these gifts to Kraus and Inga, as a way of making up for the mistake, he felt was his responsibility. The Bathroom incident. The tragic night at the Death Club. Dixie was no fool, for she picked up on the nasal sigh. Dixie was well aware of the fateful night. And she had this to say.
“No one could have predicted what happened, and even if you had been there, could you have made it to the scene any faster than anyone else? If we had the power to stop all bad things happening…we would need to be God.” – Part of what she said, finally hit home, for herself. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’ve been…a hypocrite.” Dixie glanced up at the ceiling, and gave something of a strangled laugh. “Here is me…giving advice, and yet…heh…I am the last person who should be doing so.” Regaining her train of thought, she smiled at the idea that Dem would be carved, brought to life from a piece of wood. “I bet he’d love that.”- Reaching for her pencil, she smoothed her left hand over the clean sheet from her sketch book. <3>
DrakonMacar; -“Sometimes, people know what to say to solve their own problems when they face anothers. Anyways, weren’t you trying to draw me?” Duke chuckled as he tried to focus Dixie on her own work. “The young artist needs to be ableto concentrate on her subject, yeah? Not much more here but an old cowboy in his rocking chair on the patio watchin’ the sunset. I’m sure that’d sell somewhere.” He snuffed his cigar having exhausted it to a stub. “I’ll even kick up my boots for you too.” To add emphasis, he threw his legs out and onto the railing of his porch.
CharlotteCarrendar: – The clutter of his boots hitting the railing of his porch, had her near jump, and she shrugged her shoulders, a touch of nerves. “Right…I was sketching. And yeah, you’re right, that does a bit of to the scene, sorta…”I’m relaxed, no flies on me” – Laughing at her own joke, she coughed and got right down to business, pencil in hand, and started to draw a stick outline, or a skeleton, of Duke, as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable in his rocking chair. Hat tipped in a nonchalant fashion. So…serene. A cowboy, whittling, whilst smoking a pipe, and admiring the setting sun.. Who wouldn’t buy it? Who wouldn’t want to trade places, and be so at peace? But is anyone ever truly happy, content? Was this another mask? We all wear them.
Placing down one pencil, she picks up another, and starts to work on the hat, and the broad outline, her fingers gripping the pencil on a diagonal, her head rising and falling, as she looked him over, then returned to sketching. Capturing with her mind’s eye, the shadows, the contours. Duke…<3>