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Artistic Talents

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Artistic Talents

Post by Rachel Ascot on Sun Sep 29, 2013 5:39 pm

"Do you think I've missed anything, Franklin?"

Franklin looked out the window to his right, making sure he hadn't made a wrong turn. Ever since the graffiti legalisation, London had become increasingly unrecognisable, and he now had to look at street signs instead of instinctively knowing where he was. It was then that he had to answer his queen.

"Actually, Rachel, I stopped paying attention ages ago," he said, looking back to her. "Ah, here's the road out." It was then that he felt a crumbled piece of paper bump against his head.

"You are the worst assistant ever," she said irritably. "I was asking you about the text on the poster Csilla's going to be posting. You know, for the strip night, because all the people who come to my club are idiots who can't hold their attention to anything other than boobs." Franklin rolled his eyes, and then looked around him. Wooden boards everywhere. The barricades. The border of Cockney Creta. The wastelands beyond.

"I remember when the suburbs where considered safer to live in than the city centre..."

"Franklin, you can be wistful and mournful for the lost world later, I need you to listen to me," the queen interrupted, and the driver's brow furrowed. He let out an irritable huff; Rachel worked hard to fix the damage caused by the Deadlight virus, but she also liked to put her mind to other, less urgent things. Like a charity event she didn't even want to go through.

"Ok, Rachel, we'll have it your way," he sighed, knowing that this was a situation where admitting defeat was easier than fighting to win. "What does your poster say?" Rachel smiled, before clearing her throat and looking to her large notepad.

"At the Royal Pachyderm! One night only strip tease and burlesque, including Queen Rachel I herself! All proceeds go to the Deadlight Research Fund Charity! Half price on selected drinks, performers of both genders," she said clearly, then looked down again, waving her hand a little. "When I've worked out the times, I'll stick that in along with the date. So, yeah, anything I've missed out?" Franklin, having not listened again, simply shrugged.

"There's loads you've missed out. There's no information at all. Start again," he tiredly said, prompting a pout from Rachel.

"Thanks, good to see you're cooperating," she said, before looking outside of the car, staring at the huge fence. "You know, we really should get some painting done along here. Something nice, something..."

"Something to distract everyone from the fact that the Deadlight exists?" Franklin asked irritably. Rachel looked back to him, knowing exactly what he was going to say. He always stood by her decisions and was confident that she knew what she was doing, but Franklin could never not question her. He couldn't get used to her blasé attitude. Rachel honestly liked Franklin to question her; it let her know what boundaries she crossed over and thus let her gauge how far was far enough. "How about some bunnies skipping through the dingily dale? Or a fox having a dinner party with a fucking chicken? Or how about a huge five mile long cock? Just something to make people smile for a moment while death surrounds them." Just to annoy Franklin even more, Rachel snorted at this, holding back a laugh.

"We'll be getting some reference material for that on the night itself." Franklin had to fight the impulse to stop the car right there.

"Ok, seriously, why is your primary concern in all of this how you're going to keep smiles on everyone's faces while this disease destroys the world around them? Distracting everyone from the problem?"

"It's not distraction," Rachel said with a bluntness that forced Franklin to stop talking. "The strip show and the graffiti and all the other stuff, it's not because I don't care about the Deadlight Virus. But if I didn't do it, everyone'd stop working. They'd stop seeing the point of surviving." Now, Franklin genuinely did stop the car, a slightly blank look on his face. He gulped a little, looking to Rachel. She didn't change her tone, a smirk still on her face, but there was a clarity there that seemed to change his view. And then he shook his head; of course that was what she was doing. Even after all this time with her, he knew all her tricks, every mind game she played was an open book to him, but he was as powerful as a puppet when she used her gift of the gab.

"I'm doing it to show everyone what we still have to lose," she finished, before grinning widely. "Also, you should've taken a left when we left London."

Franklin swore very loudly, then performed a u-turn, speeding back to get on the right road.

----------------------------------

Rachel stood at the doorstep, watching as the car sped off into the distance. Franklin refused to be anywhere near Csilla; he didn't dislike her, in fact he like her a lot, but he also knew that Elastor was usually nearby and Elastor was something Franklin wouldn't mind force-feeding a live hedgehog. So he simply dropped Rachel off and drove away. She looked up. It hadn't been touched by the graffiti artists. Not yet. It was stone and on a single level, a tiny garden at the front with some beautiful trees hanging over Rachel's head, not to mention the roses on either side of the door. It was quite the kind of house one would expect on a brochure proudly saying that one should 'move to the rustic countryside' which was now infested with infected. Rachel, rung the doorbell, then looked into the bag by her side; dressing gown and some assorted lingerie. She didn't know how Csilla wanted her for the painting, either in some arousing underwear or even nude, but the painted look would give the poster a much needed sense of gravitas; anything would be an improvement over the first...

... it was only after she had rung the doorbell that she wondered if her message had gotten through at all. She hoped it had, otherwise Csilla was in for an awkward afternoon. Rachel heard the door open, looking in the bag.

"Hey Csilla, I'm hoping you got my message, I..." she paused, digging into her bag and hurling underwear left right and centre. "Hold on, I've just lost what I wrote down for the poster... ah, no, here it is!" She triumphantly pulled out a crumbled bit of paper, before grinning to the blonde.
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Rachel Ascot
QUEEN OF CLUBS

Posts : 154
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-Case File-
Level: 2
Rank: Rachel I, Soveriegn Queen of Creta
Writer: Sponge

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