pawnstorm | Like a rolling stone (Open)

Entry tags:

Like a rolling stone (Open)

Who: Potemkin and anyone
When: After the Ball/Festival, for the rest of July
Where: Caissa Coastal district, Petrosian
What: Potemkin rejects his hero privileges while being completely broke; the Harvest Soon job
Rating: None

Potemkin was of the view that everyone needs a room to be able to return to at the end of the day, and this was it, the very place he had woken up to this world for the first time. But gradually, he found that he was able to stand it less and less. Being there caused a discomfort to grow in him, sprouting from a disgust he had for himself. For some reason it was most difficult to ignore in this place. Eventually he could not sleep there, since spending the unconscious hours needed was too much for him. He took that as a sign . Those who had roomed with him won't notice anything missing, everything which has nominally belonged to him being left in its place and his uniforms hanging in the closet.

Everything except for his art supplies.

Portraits by the beach
Potemkin spends hours outside at Caissa's waterfront. Those who observe the area over a period of time can notice that he never actually leaves, like he doesn't have a home to go back to. From the cool beachside mornings to the postcard perfect pink sunsets, he's a constantly spottable presence, usually sitting on a bench facing the water.

Occasionally he has his drawing station set up and works in the open air, with a sign out for the wandering eyes of passerbys.

Caricatures, Landscapes
100 Colle per subject

I wanna pet the rabbits
1.
Potemkin puts in the backbone of ox when it comes to working the living daylights out of this farm. He shows almost inhuman perseverance at breaking the dirt and rooted in weeds, delivering kicks to the particularly stubborn dirtclods so hard you'd swear it pissed him off. When the rustbucket of a tractor kicks the bucket, Potemkin wastes no time and brings out the manual one from the shed. It's a pointed bar of metal not inherently different from the design used thousands of years ago, but that is no impediment to him running around tearing up the place.

Then it's time for him to put the prepared land to use. He kneels to the plowed dark earth, the end product of his efforts, with a bag of vegetable seeds. Potemkin is following the finger rule to planting these seeds, making perfect indentations in the dirt, and dropping exactly three in each one. Despite his care, the holes are arguably still too deep and too roomy given the size of his instrument. Someone will have to break it to him.

That is, until a squirrel nimbly spirals up his body like the trunk of a tree and takes the bag of seeds in its mouth from his hand, runs off with the bounty, and eats it in front of him.

He looks hurt.

2.
The jobs at the Petrosian farm could not be finished in a single day, which is a blessing and a curse. He could be employed for a few weeks, completely taking out the need to preoccupy his head with where to go next until then, and the community retainers of the farm generously offered him room for his stay in the barn. Not 'a bed in the barn', but one of the unoccupied stables. With straw included. Thankfully he doesn't have any neighbors, he thinks.

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When it comes down it, Vivienne finds she doesn't actually mind this particular job, labour intensive as it is. She's no good with relief efforts - though more to the point, she doesn't belong in a relief effort - and the griffons, for the most part, seem to have quietened down. It's hard work, nowhere near as tedious as she'd thought it would be. It's... rewarding in its own right. Not to say she'd stick around after everything's done. She's not really into charity or volunteer work either.

Still, it's surprising to see a very familiar hulking figure out in the quiet(er) countryside, but that's mostly because she doesn't think there's anybody in all of Caissa and Petrosian who could possibly measure up in stature.Though when she sees him there, tending the fields, and simply watching a squirrel steal his bag of seeds, it clashes rather violently with the memory she has of Potemkin in that dungeon...

...and perhaps rather bafflingly, Vivienne stifles a laugh, however brief, hiding it behind a hand.

"How unexpected."

Potemkin stays sitting on his knees when that happens. He watches the squirrel gain from his suffering with a little frown, but that's all he can do. It's a thief, but it's also a cute little woodland animal. He wouldn't lay a finger on it.

He's snapped out of it when he hears a woman's laugh; even cut short it sticks out since he hadn't been talkative to any of the other farmhands the entire time he was here. He looks around for the source, and is surprised when it's someone he knows, but had thought as lost. A potential fate he almost envied.

"Ms. Stanbury?"

Edited (typo) 2016-07-19 22:35 (UTC)

An acknowledging hum, accompanied with a nod is her initial reply - she's a little taken aback by the formality. She really hadn't expected this. But then again, it wasn't as if their time in the dungeon really allowed for casual conversation.

"Yes." Whatever humour had been present on her face just moments before are all but gone now, replaced by her usual serious demeanour. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Whether she means here, after returning to Enprise after her time away, or here on this particular job is up in the air.

Potemkin keeps up a certain degree of politeness to a shockingly far extent, one will find as they get to know him. Potemkin returns to his serious face too; he can't continue mourning his seeds in front of someone else. Hoping that the squirrel is satisfied for now, Potemkin stands up and walks to her place. Maybe she also has some seeds on hand so he doesn't have to return all the way to the storage shed.

"I could say the same to you. It's fortunate that we've crossed paths again."

A rather lengthy pause at that. Is it fortunate? Like most others, Vivienne can't deny her wish to return to her home (and stay there), and yet... there's something else that makes her feel otherwise. A sense of camaraderie that doesn't exist in Yharnam? No, it couldn't be...

Could it?

"Mm. To be honest, there are far more familiar faces here than I was expecting to see. It's rather... relieving, in a sense, that you all seem to be well."

"No real progress has been made at controlling the summoning process. With no choice in staying here, most of us have stayed here." By now Potemkin is at Vivienne's side, and he speaks carelessly, more concentrated on work. This was meant to be his outlet for stray thoughts, after all. He's looking at a sharp angle down, seeing what equipment Vivienne brought with her. Before touching and sorting through anything, he asks,

"Would you have happened to bring tomato seeds?"

"Tomato seeds?"

Honestly, she can barely tell one kind of seed from the next, so after a moment of sorting through the satchel at her side - the other contains a trowel amongst other things - she gives up and simply pulls forth a few small sacks of seeds.

"It's likely one of these is what you're looking for."

Potemkin is a little more botanically versed, so he uses his giant fingers to give a peek in each bag, before finding it, a bunch of whitish round seeds.

"Yes, thank you. This cultivar is supposed to taste magnificent when it's mature. At the same time, it is adapted to be able to most withstand this heat." As he waxes poetic, Potemkin starts to turn back toward the row he was working on, but then he hesitates. He's not a man to make the same mistake twice. And the squirrel is still there.

Is it too much to assume it must be full by now? Or what about the possibility of multiple squirrels?

"Ms. Stanbury, what have you done about the matter of rodents?" he asks, fearful about going back into the fray.

"Vivienne will do."

While she's not against being addressed so formally (she welcomes it, in fact), the fact that they're brothers-in-arms dissuades her from simply leaving things be.

"As for the matter of the rodents, I've simply been killing the ones that approach." Here, she gestures to the throwing knives at her belt. One is missing, and two are bloodied. "If they're brave enough to approach me today, there's little to stop them from ruining our work here."

...is how she sees it anyway.

Well that's gruesome, but Potemkin can't make a face because it's entirely natural too. The things were fast and crafty for a reason, specifically to avoid that end. Vivienne is an accurate shot, though he probably would have assumed that already.

"If they have any sense of self-preservation, they should be scared of you by now. Vivienne," Potemkin begins to request, taking her preferred address in mind, "could I ask you to accompany me to the field?" The squirrels would have learned already or they will learn, and Potemkin won't have to do it, it's a win-win situation in his mind.

"I would hope so." Though that does beg the question of whether they'll return once her work here is done. Are squirrels even capable of recognising individual human faces?

Oh well.

"To be your lookout?" It's a fair enough assumption, considering what she saw earlier. "I would think someone of your skills would be more than enough for a rodent or two. Failing that, your size alone should be enough of a deterrent."

"My combat instructor, a man with knowledge from many cultures, once introduced to me the concept of 'killing intent'. In addition to what danger you can measure from sight and logic, there is another sense that some are attuned to of how willing someone is to actually hurt another.

I think these animals might be seeing past my size." Either to see the softness within him, or realizing that it can be a hindrance more than anything. It's not like he can chase them.

Potemkin had an instructor? Well, that's only natural, isn't it? Yet it's somehow still rather surprising to actually hear. Natural talent exists, but so does the payoff from years of hard work. Even if she's always known it, it being brought to the forefront of her mind has her pause a little.

But she blinks out of it after a short moment.

"You mean to say you're not interested in hurting them?"

Potemkin makes agitated movements while standing in place: rapping his fingers on his arm, redirecting his eyes. He's trying to step around talking about something, but he's trying to talk about it to Vivienne nonetheless.

"I can't. I mean, they make it difficult. Because of their speed, and...relative innocence." That last part has to be drawn out of him, Potemkin being aware of how ridiculous it is to call that bully innocent.

While Vivienne's not one for subtleties, preferring direct methods over anything else (hence her style of combat, maybe?), Potemkin's reluctance isn't exactly difficult to pick up.

"Relative innocence? Are they not just squirrels? Pests? One stole from you earlier."

"I bring the law down on criminals," Potemkin reinforces her statement, with such certainty that at once the gentle man, who is intimidated by squirrels, comes off as as unforgiving. "They know what they've done, and if not I can tell them. I can give them everything they need to avoid me. An animal is harder for me to bring my fist on."

Potemkin could never be a hunter, as Vivienne could deduce by now.

Though to be fair to Potemkin, the creatures Vivienne deals with are aggressive, and actively seeking to hurt others.

A rather prolonged pause as she considers something.

"...You're a strange man, Potemkin. I have seen first hand what you're capable of, and yet your abilities belie the nature you've shown me today." Though speaking of which...

"I would never have thought you possessed such an aptitude for farming."

It's not ideal to sleep in a stable but he's had worse, and it's nice to not need to travel back and forth or spend colle on an inn or something like that

He really would have preferred not to find it already occupied, though.

"Ah, I was unaware that someone was already here."

There is no evidence of how uncomfortable that makes him.

With all of the actual animals long since evacuated, he wasn't expecting any company for the rest of the night. So he made himself comfortable on the floor, lying flat on the ground, with the freedom to occupy as much space as possible, in as luxuriously goofy-looking of a pose as his worked out body wanted.

When the stable door swings open, Chloe is witness to Potemkin filling the volume of the stall like a living haystack. He remains an impressively sized lump while the surprise works over him, and then an emotion that can only be summed as I can explain.

"I wasn't informed either. Sorry."

At least Chloe has seen people try to sleep (or sleeping) in much odder positions. He is friends with a man that is sloth incarnate after all, and that man certainly can sleep in any kind of position (with some of their other friends helping in making those positions even odder and uncomfortable).

"It would have been good if they did mention it at least in passing, would it not?"

He smiles politely and searches for a corner to huddle up in with his gaze. Had he knows, he probably would have gone to hire a room somewhere after all.

"What's done is done," Potemkin says to try and indicate that he isn't bothered by a sudden roommate. It doesn't really succeed, what's supposed to come off as a carefree statement coming off as awkward. Not due to anything from Chloe, but he's shuffled from just being woken up and metaphorically with his pants down.

Potemkin notices Chloe looking around, and quickly starts moving to be less of a spacehog, scooching up, sitting straight, and bending his knees toward himself. At least you can see the floor now.

"I suppose that it is," he agrees.

When the other moves over, Chloe inclines his head in acknowledgment and slight gratitude, although he still wonders if he could somehow figure out an excuse to leave which wouldn't be rude. But he was thrown off, and on top of that the work has tired him, so his mind is unfortunately not at its full capacity. "Thank you," he says, and moves to a corner. He can only hope that the night will pass quickly, although it's very unlikely that he will get much, if any, sleep.

"Good night," Potemkin says, hands still across his shins.

Then it's back to polite bedtime silence. Not that Potemkin is particularly uncomfortable (he's been in worse positions, and some of that inner peace training is becoming particularly useful), but he's finding it very hard to fall back asleep regardless. This is a very inconvenient time to get bored, though. Eventually he finds himself just staring at the opposite wooden partition rather than closing his eyes.

Potemkin suspects Chloe is having similar problems, so he reaches out with small talk with little guilt. "Where were you working today? I was almost entirely at the fields."

It certainly is hard to fall asleep. Not because he's bored, he's too busy being worried an masking said worry. He had been hoping that the other would go to sleep quickly, as that would mean that he had less to worry about, at least for a little while, but apparently he has no such luck, and he is polite, so he can't simply ignore the question.

"Ah, I was sent to fetch water. I am fairly certain that I wan walk to the well and back with my eyes closed by now." But he always did have a good sense of direction.

That explains a lot. "I planted seeds, but I didn't tend them afterwards. You must have been on my tail all day, Mister..." he asks through implication, since they will probably continue to be coworkers the next day. Maybe this will even lead to a less awkward tomorrow.

"I am Potemkin. I was a soldier up until recently, so this is all a new experience." Including the barn sleeping.

"Indeed I must have, perhaps we might have crossed paths without realizing?" He had not been paying much attention to other people, to be honest. He really preferred to be alone.

"My name is Chloe, and I was an executioner before, so it is all very new to me as well. Although it is a bit of a dull job after one have done it a dozen times, it is a little familiar by now." He likes that it's a bit dull, to be honest. He can count his steps and doesn't have to actually think, so he won't end up thinking about what he doesn't want to remember.

Potemkin isn't disturbed by Chloe's choice of occupation. The world will always need executioners, so what judgement is there to be made on someone for fulfilling an inevitability.

"What repetitive work lacks in excitement, it has the potential for satisfaction in watching your own improvement. By the next night I will already feel better." Assuming their roles don't get swapped again for tomorrow's work, making it all for naught.

It has been more common for people to react negatively to his former profession, but it has not bothered him. On the other hand, it is nice to not have eyes of disgust turned toward him for a change. Though being looked down upon because of his job was better than other things eyes of dislike could look upon, if his secrets were found out.

He inclines his head in agreement. “Yes, one will not learn if one does not prepare to do some hard work to learn and cultivate oneself.”

"Hm... I can't decide! Your choice?" That's all Potemkin gets when Arashi presses the requested amount of Colle to a spot on the man's arm - always with the arms, this one. "I didn't realize this is what you've been doing down here... ♪"

That gesture is becoming familiar to him, and Potemkin already has a feeling of who his customer is before he looks up from his handwarmer. This situation could have been embarrassing to be seen in by anyone else who had seen him as a career soldier, but Arashi is making light of it, and that makes Potemkin also treat it more gracefully.

"Arashi. Yes, this is how I prefer to spend my time these days," he speaks as he deposits the money in his shirt pocket. The one that isn't containing the turtle. Strela's eyes probably can't distinguish between bills and lettuce. "It's a more tranquil existence, for as long as I'm here.

How would you feel about a portrait? A friend of mine told me that those can be the best at letting inspiration come through the work."

"A portrait! I would adore that, Potemkin!" This one would have asked what he meant just before, 'tranquil' a choice of words that catches Arashi's attention. But the idea of this beautiful face on canvas? Quite distracting! "Should I sit down? Ooh! Or I could pose for a while! I am a model, too, you know.♥"

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Potemkin says with a small smile, as he moves to grab a few more supplies beneath his seat. A couple different pencils, a smudger, but he restrains himself from going all in for one portrait. He can't have his profit eaten by the cost of upkeep.

"You extend this sense of charisma. You can stand anyway you'd like. I may hold my composition and ability to my standards, but the subject should be free. Already they must have proved themselves a worthwhile subject, before work has begun."

"Oh my! Keep saying things like that and... actually never mind, go ahead. ☆" Arashi laughs, falling into a standing position well-familiar - the sort best for particularly long shoots. All while watching Potemkin get his supplies ready in interest. "I can't say I would have guessed this was your favorite thing to do... but I think it's wonderful~" The chance for a new picture of oneself aside, Arashi's reminded distantly of another kind, sketching type....

After looking over Arashi's very practiced pose, Potemkin enters a familiar ritual himself, looking like the very picture of an artist: thumb up, tongue out, arm extended, the universal gestures for thinking how to put what's before his eye to the paper. He is completely silent during the process (which goes to show that he takes it seriously), but once the pencil is brought down and some of the lines that mark the basic form are laid out, he starts to relax enough for conversation.

"Yes, it's more of an old thing, but a man needs to have something to always return to in his life."

Arashi's still and respectfully quiet in turn, until the window to talk opens again. "Wise words."

If Arashi had to name anything that always brought this heart back to earth... what would it be? The idol's dedicated to only so many things....

"Are there other 'old things' you've done, Potemkin?" Arashi ventures to ask, knowing nothing of the man's past but feeling genuinely curious of it now.

Potemkin's pencil continues its gracing along the paper. It doesn't look like anything as of yet, but gradually the image of Arashi will be brought into being. Potemkin welcomes the chance to be sentimental while working; he's a fair bit older than most of the other heroes, and deep down the inherent urge to ramble about stories of the past is there.

"What goes far back, I can say sparring, or practicing the warrior's fist, is like that too. It doesn't have to be tied to violence, necessarily, it can actually be a meditative activity.

I don't like feeling restless, as you might be able to tell."

Compared to a rapid shutter of shots produced in a fraction of time, there's a different pace to being drawn, slower but calmer as well. And while Arashi gets to talk in-between it isn't bad at all. The idol blinks, trying to imagine a restless Potemkin and split between laughing and worrying over the thought.

"I've never seen you lose your head, when I think about it. Whatever the exercise you take, it does you well."

While a photographer leaves their own touch with the choice of lens, lighting, and angle, Potemkin can still impact the portrait through his own style.

"Good. I hope to not show that to anyone." Such a pointless expenditure of energy is not only inefficient and unbecoming looking, it's not insignificantly scary to other people. Being born with an obvious amount of power would do that. "It helped, when I was on duty as a soldier. Sometimes these things find ways of being useful in other aspects of life."

"Like gracing pages with me~ ♥" Arashi toys, kind but in love with this visage all the same. "I almost wish I could watch and see how it's going, but patience is a virtue, right...?"

Arashi has pride in great amounts, but Potemkin considers that only complimentary to his kindness. Why shouldn't a good person hold pride?

"I think it's starting to come together, enough that you can get an idea of the final result. You can take an in progress preview of it now."

So that Arashi doesn't have to ruin his pose, Potemkin turns the stand completely so that it is no longer facing him. The black-and-white drawing bares the stray marks of an uncleaned sketch, but everything of note is there: his expression, the subtle tilt of Arashi's posture that manages to carry a sense of personality. Hopefully Arashi shows enough restraint in his peeking so his pose remains saved.

Eyes widening at the sight of it, Arashi's cheeks go a soft pink as the model takes in as much detail from a distance as possible. Potemkin's really getting somewhere! Not that this one's shocked, since a) in any medium, Arashi is beautiful, and b) this one knows perfection comes from time. If this is something Potemkin's done for years....

"Oh my... if this is only a preview I'm even more excited!"

Arashi just knows this portrait'll be cherished for a long time.

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Like a rolling stone (Open)

Pettin' rabbits - 1!

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portraits!

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