(no subject)
Who: Deidara (tonguejob) and Itachi (pogromanate)
Where: Elysium
When: After midnight Around nine, after curfew.
Summary: Ninja. In the night.
Rating: R just in case of violence and a lot of swearing.
Other: Itachi's an asshole, and he's got no sense of art.
Deidara was actually dressed decently. Nice sweater, clean khakis (not even paint or clay stains), his good pair of sneakers. Basically, he looked more or less like he fit into Elysium, a college student but not a trashy one. Which was what he wanted, he'd been checking out the art galleries all day, concentrating mostly on sculture.
He'd seen a lot of talent, but nothing really... Well, artistic. Nothing that made a bang, nothing that convinced Deidara any of the hacks on display understood what art was about. Oh, he respected the talent and the time and craftsmanship, but he just didn't agree with the approach.
All the art he'd seen was dead, stale, stagnant.
Some time after the last gallery closed, Deidara found himself still hanging around in Elysium. He needed to get the fuck home before he was caught, but he'd somehow gotten distracted walking the streets, admiring the architecture--in a way that was art too--before spotting a military patrol had sent him dodging down a side street and brought him back to the realization that he was out past curfew and there were two things that could happen if he got caught. While they were both exciting, neither was ideal.
Where: Elysium
When: After midnight Around nine, after curfew.
Summary: Ninja. In the night.
Rating: R just in case of violence and a lot of swearing.
Other: Itachi's an asshole, and he's got no sense of art.
Deidara was actually dressed decently. Nice sweater, clean khakis (not even paint or clay stains), his good pair of sneakers. Basically, he looked more or less like he fit into Elysium, a college student but not a trashy one. Which was what he wanted, he'd been checking out the art galleries all day, concentrating mostly on sculture.
He'd seen a lot of talent, but nothing really... Well, artistic. Nothing that made a bang, nothing that convinced Deidara any of the hacks on display understood what art was about. Oh, he respected the talent and the time and craftsmanship, but he just didn't agree with the approach.
All the art he'd seen was dead, stale, stagnant.
Some time after the last gallery closed, Deidara found himself still hanging around in Elysium. He needed to get the fuck home before he was caught, but he'd somehow gotten distracted walking the streets, admiring the architecture--in a way that was art too--before spotting a military patrol had sent him dodging down a side street and brought him back to the realization that he was out past curfew and there were two things that could happen if he got caught. While they were both exciting, neither was ideal.