Act I, Part VI: In which war is declared
Art books gather dust in the dappled light from the window.
A colorful costume lies crumpled on the floor.
The paintings that once adorned the room are turned towards the wall.
Original Portrait paintings still sell for millions…but her new work is fit only for drab motels, or kindling. The figures no longer dance, the scenery no longer moves with imagined weather. It is, after all, only paint on canvas.
With her funds running low, Portrait has fallen back on simple pick pocketing. It has no glamour, but it does make ends meet. It could be worse.
It can always be worse.
The canvas begins to ripple, the Eiffel Tower swaying in the power of a fearsome dark storm that races over the painted horizon.
“Persephone….” A voice drifts out, the sound distorted by high winds. The paintbrush drops from Portrait’s hand. A small, windblown figure appears by the foot of the thrashing tower. “I’m back Persephone,” Dorian Gray says, looking out at her through the canvas (and by his feet a scuttling Ghoul peered out as well, its hackles rising in the static haze). “Lovey, we need to talk. Meet me back where it all began, and I swear to you I will make these past centuries of despair right. You’ve suffered so much, sweetheart, it’s time to become a family again.” And with that he vanished, the storm cleared, and once more the Eiffel Tower stood in mediocrity on the canvas. Its respite was brief. Portrait slammed her fist through the canvas, flakes of paint rising into the air like dust. “Oh no you don’t you b@stard…we’re not playing this game again.” She kicked over her easel. People began to murmur and stare at the artist. “I don’t care if you’re a phantasm, a demi-god, or my father…this ends NOW.” Unable to make a dramatic exit due to an unfortunate lack of un-punched paintings in the vicinity, she sprinted off toward home, her beret fluttering in her wake.
And now the art books are slid into magic belt.
A colorful costume is donned, and shimmers in the light.
The paintings that adorn the wall cheer.
A new painting is to be begun.
The fall of Dorian Gray is near.
Like the fall of the House of Usher, the Gray family’s demise is near…
End of Act I