[OPEN] Horror Across Cultures

[bloodonthestones]

WHO: OPEN
WHERE: Nonah Museum of Modern Art
WHEN: From November 1st to November 16th.
WHAT: An open mingle log for a special exhibit consisting of masks from cultures across the world.
WARNINGS: None, will add if necessary.

[A hall at the Nonah Museum of Modern has been dedicated to an exhibit of masks from various cultures. There are dozens of them, hung on the walls and arranged in no particular order, each with a small placard indicating the culture of origin and the reason the artist included it in the exhibit, which is usually a lot of pretentious language that boils down to "ISN'T IT COOL YOU GUYS". They're all modern reproductions, and some very nice handiwork, but not exactly the most culturally sensitive thing you'll see this month. Please feel free to use your imagination, because there is absolutely NO cultural context given by the artist for any of these things.

What sorts of masks might you see? A few examples: Kabuki, Noh, Haida, Tlingit, Topeng, Samurai, Schandmaske, Fang, Bambara, and at least one based on a sugar skull. Pretty much any historical mask that looks strange and novel or "grotesque" to American eyes is fair game.]

[The Museum is open daily from 10am to 8pm. Admission is free for children 12 and under, and very affordable otherwise. You can put the time/date your character chooses to attend in your subjectline, or just leave it vague.]

Comments

[Open]

[bloodonthestones]

[Siegmund is here most days, except Fridays and Saturdays. It's the job he was assigned, and unlike many imPorts, he actually likes it.]

[He helped set up this exhibit, and part of his job is to monitor the exhibit hall to make sure nobody's touching anything and to handle any questions guests may have. He's a severe young man, dressed all in black. Slacks, collared shirt, tie - yes he wears a black shirt with a black tie, welcome to Siegmund. He's also wearing dark sunglasses indoors. He's got a badge pinned to his shirt that identifies him as museum staff.]

[Mostly he just stands around the exhibit, off to the side somewhere, unnervingly still and serious. He'll answer questions if brought to him, sharply remind people not to touch anything if he catches them trying, and occasionally mess around with the ambient shadows to provide the illusion of the masks' eyes following guests as they walk past.]

[Look, he's gotta entertain himself somehow.]

[starbuckaroobanzai]

[Dana Scully has never considered herself uncultured. Bookish to the point of erudition, she has always been able to count on a particular type of knowledge, an anchoring milieu of context through which she might travel in some quantum of security. This place hasn't quite erased all of that, but it certainly has opened in her a new need to explore, to bridge the gap between home and here, then and the now she is increasingly less hopeful of escaping. It's a long process, relearning, compartmentalizing, but it isn't all bad. This, for instance, promises to be a pleasant enough outing, a time for contemplation perhaps more than learning.

What she isn't addressing, at least not directly, is that maybe she's chosen this particular exhibit not solely to expand her own consciousness, but also because it's the sort of thing to which Mulder might have been drawn. She doesn't hear him as she wanders, cracking jokes and murmuring a commentary in the back of her brain, but it's a near thing. There is something of him about the place, something that makes her inclined to linger. Or maybe...

She leans closer to one of the masks, tongue between her teeth, glancing at the rather severe-looking attendant. Surely it was just her imagination that something about the mask had shifted, something in light or its absence... and maybe she's just searching for something peculiar, looking for something that isn't and will never be there. Thoughtfully, she settles back before approaching the young man staffing the exhibit.]

Sorry -- I don't suppose you could give me more information on some of these masks, or tell me who I could talk to if not?

[bloodonthestones]

[He can tell she noticed. The nice thing about wearing dark sunglasses basically everywhere is that nobody can see where you're looking, or pick up on the subtle little hints of expression hidden behind them. In this case, a grim satisfaction. But then, pretty much everything about Siegmund is grim - he makes sure of it.]

[He turns to face her, obscuring the fact that he was already watching out of the corner of his eye.]

What do you like to know?

[He has a heavy German accent, but he speaks slowly and enunciates clearly, so it's easy enough to understand.]

[starbuckaroobanzai]

[Scully notes the accent, and kicks herself mentally for letting her German fall by the wayside -- something to pick up again, maybe, now that she has the time. After all, it saved her life once.]

Their histories. Where exactly they come from, when they came into the possession of the museum.

[Whether or not there are things she mightn't follow up on, something to help her slip back into something like the life she misses. Chasing shades and monsters, hunting for some ineffable and elusive truth. Probing the nature of reality. Figuring out what the hell that thing with the shadows was all about.]

How they came into the possession of the museum. It's a fascinating collection.

[bloodonthestones]

[He gestures toward the mask she was examining before approaching him.]

That one, Cherokee.

The museum has them on loan from the artist. He makes all of them from masks he sees around the world.

None of them are original.

[pause, and then a slight downward tilt of his head and arch to his eyebrows, very calculated.]

Unless he lies to us.

[starbuckaroobanzai]

I don't suppose you happen to have a name or know how I could reach him? Out of... personal curiosity?

[Look how absolutely earnest she is, wide-eyed, corners of her mouth tugging briefly downwards in a concessionary pout, something like a shrug, meant to obscure the depth and purpose of her interest. It's not something a person admits to. Not at home, anyway, certainly not; here may be better but old habits die hard and Scully is possessed of myriad. Much better that this fellow should think her interested in making a purchase, as opposed to what she's really thinking, which is that for once she wishes she had Mulder's prodigious and seemingly endless knowledge of the occult and the paranormal, rather than grasping at straws.]

for Nathaniel. (8th November)

[ex_question191]

[ they meet up at the porter: they're both registered, so it takes them to nonah in a flash. stiles is still a little wary of the thing after disappearing for a week, but when he comes out no time at all has passed, and from there it's just a short walk to the museum through the crisp fall air. ]

Might start snowing soon.

[ stiles remarks, even though seriously, who talks about the weather? whatever, with mandrake it's possible even the topic of snow could lead to some weird fact from his world, about magic or his prodigious talent at everything ever. he's kind of interested to see what john makes of "modern art" though — and introduce him to the only teen stiles has met who's weirder than mandrake himself — if he's working today. ]

[doneproperly]

[Mandrake looks up at the sky as Stiles says that, frowning slightly.]

I should hope not. Snow has a way of making everything in a city suddenly terribly inefficient.

[He follows Stiles into the museum, though, taking off his scarf and coat once they're inside and cloaking them immediately. He can't be expected to carry his coat around on one arm the entire time they're here, after all. What if someone attacked? He needs his hands free.]

[ex_question191]

[ stiles isn't really thinking about being attacked — besides, sarcasm is still pretty much his only defense. and he's leaving his hoodie on anyway. ]

Oh, yeah, it'll suck when the milkman can't get to my doorstep so I'll run out of milk.

[ stiles deadpans. though while he thinks mandrake might come from a seriously backwards world, he can't deny that this world isn't quite as modernized as his own. ]

Come on, snow is fun, it's beautiful, it makes jobs since someone's gotta clear it. And all the cars can just zoom on over it, no hold ups.

[ but fun is the most important thing. ]

[doneproperly]

[His eyes narrow ever so slightly in response to the milkman comment, but he doesn't rise to the bait. Really, Stiles, you'll have to do better than that. When it comes to sarcasm, Bartimaeus has set the bar pretty high.]

... I suppose I can concede the point. We don't have flying cars yet in my London, after all.

[Mandrake isn't really sure when the last time he had "fun" was, really. But he doesn't say that. Instead, he looks around the museum hall, trying to find which way to the exhibit Stiles mentioned earlier.]

[ex_question191]

[ mandrake is gonna have fun right now, as stiles heads them towards the staircase that leads up to the exhibition floor. so much fun. because there is nothing more fun than...

masks.

lots of masks.

from cultures around the world.

... woooo ... ]

Your world had other countries too, right?

[ stiles asks, as they climb the steps. (he wonders if he should walk a little behind mandrake in case surmounting them proves too much for him, but that's a pretty hypocritical thought since stiles is panting by the time they reach the top.) ]

[doneproperly]

[Mandrake actually does surprisingly well with the stairs. He's might be scrawny and have little strength or muscle mass to speak of, but he still swims every day. You need some stamina and control over your lungs in his line of work, after all. He politely pretends as if he doesn't notice Stiles is winded.]

What? Yes, of course we do. Britain is however the current economic and political centre of the Empire, of course.

[ex_question191]

Old school.

[ it's still worth asking: not everyone comes from worlds that have anything approaching an international landscape. and he figures masks from cultures around the glove might be weird if you didn't realize there were other cultures. ]

Where I come from, Britain's days as a colonial superpower are basically over. It's all America versus China. Meanwhile here Russia's still more of a threat, like we're still in the Cold War era.

[doneproperly]

Ah. America has not achieved independence, where I'm from. Though to be honest, our colonies over there are rather small and far between. For the most part it is still populated by its' indigenous population.

I've read much about this Cold War business. You're saying that in your timeline of events, it's essentially old news?

I had to read things for this tag and I'm lazy sorry it's late

[ex_question191]

Sorta. A lot of the world grew up during that time, but it ended like, fifteen years ago. Russia's nobody's fave country, but the U.S. is at war with the Middle East, and China is coming up as the dominant global power, so that's where most of the tension is.

hdu

[doneproperly]

... How strange.

[That seems to be all Mandrake's opinion on that matter-- if he has more thoughts, he's keeping them to himself. It is not his world, after all.

He moves on through the exhibit, looking at the next item, hands clasped behind his back. Then he finally says something again, but it's so soft it's almost as if he's only talking to himself.]

... It seems no matter what world people come from, someone is always at war with someone else.

ota;

[diociopath]

[Hopefully the gallery is running evening times as well, because this vampire can't go outside during the day. The masks are all familiar to him, some exceptions aside, because he's a rather knowledgeable person to begin with. He enjoys reading up on different cultures in his spare time, so it's only natural some of these would be familiar...

...but then he sees one he hadn't expected at all. The stone mask hanging on the wall is a nostalgic sight, something he hasn't seen in over one hundred years...but could it really be the same one from his world, here?

Overcome with morbid curiosity, you may notice this guy's hand suddenly starts bleeding lightly. He dabs his middle and index fingers against his palm, bloodying them up, then reaches out as if to smear the surface of the mask with it...

Stop him? Watch?]

[fistofthejoestar]

[turns out that Dio really wasn't kidding about Jonathan being deceptively light on his feet for such a hulking behemoth. he practically glides across the room from where he was inspecting African masks to grab Dio's wrist quite firmly. it's kind of impressive considering how little reaction time he had.

there are like a million things he'd like to say, but they are also all things he already knows the answer to, so he just settles for a really intense stare for the moment. there's a faint air of judgement coming off him though, because fucking really man???]

[diociopath]

[He isn't exactly surprised Jonathan stopped him; really, Dio was mostly hoping he could get away with it before he was caught, but oh well. The look on his face doesn't really change, so apparently he's not feeling the judgement that much man...]

Aren't you curious?

[Only his eyes move for a moment, looking to the mask before looking back at Jonathan.]

It could be, you know.

[fistofthejoestar]

All the more reason not to.

[of course he's curious, he spent his entire college life researching the damn thing. the idea that some incarnation of it might exist in other worlds is fascinating...and terrifying, knowing the consequences of that possibility.

but he's not going to indulge that interest while Dio's anywhere close to the thing, especially not by letting him smear his nasty-ass blood all over it. and because he doesn't exactly trust him to not suddenly lunge for it with his injured hand, Jonathan gently starts tugging him away. they can have this conversation in front of literally any other mask instead.]

[diociopath]

[Wow fine, he's going, he's going. Probably not much to Jonathan's surprise, the wound heals all by itself, along with the blood on his hand soaking back in through the skin. It's nice and clean, like it never happened.

They can continue their date chat in front of this instead.]

And you plan on just leaving it there?

[fistofthejoestar]

[bless the predictable cheater powers of vampirism. as soon as it's apparent that his body has automatically fixed itself up he drops Dio's hand, no longer having to worry about immediate danger from it.

he glances over at the other mask when he answers, caught between actually wanting to read the plaque on this one fucking christ and also making it a little more difficult for Dio to read his expression.]

What I plan to do isn't really any of your business.

[diociopath]

[It's a death mask of some kind, believed to be capable of bringing back the dead if some kind of nonsensical ritual is properly carried out, with the corpse of the deceased wearing it during the whole process. MAYBE THEY SHOULD JUST SMEAR BLOOD ON ALL THESE AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS AT THIS RATE.

But he just stands there looking at Jonathan, completely uninterested in the display.]

You are aware, if I had any intention of creating vampires- [He holds up his hand.] -I could do it myself.

[Well, he can't, but he doesn't know that.]

The mask would no longer be of any use to me. [quickly added on] ...if I were planning anything.

[fistofthejoestar]

[Jonathan glances back over at him finally, although whether the nagging voice of etiquette during conversation or simply giving up on shielding his thoughts prompted it is unclear.]

You aren't what I'm concerned about.

[it may come as a surprise to Dio but he is not, in fact, the center of Jonathan's universe, especially here. it would certainly be terrible if he got his hands on a working mask (regardless of his abilities making it pointless) but what worries him more is the possibility of someone completely ignorant of its background attempting to use it.

Dio at the very least understood the limits and weaknesses of the thing, would be prudent enough to use it practically. there was no telling what someone else might unleash.]

[diociopath]

[Wow HOW DARE HE???? They are supposed to be eternal rivals, he should be Jonathan's top priority at all costs.

And (un)surprisingly, a little part of him genuinely feels this way too. He had it in his mind it was their struggle after all. Thei rivalry. Their destiny. Nobody else should be involved, or if they are, they're just smaller parts of a bigger picture. The main focus in his eyes will always be them.]

...and if we take it now, you won't have to be concerned about anything.

[He's never going to tell Jonathan the secret to the World's ability; nobody but Pucci has earned that kind of honesty. But it would be so easy to just...time stop and snatch it.]