Insanity Finds Michael

The Meadows Museum is actually a division of the SMU Meadows School of the Arts. The building is large, housing a comprehensive collection of Spanish art with works ranging from the 10th to 20th centuries. Highlights of the collection include masterpieces by Goya and Picasso, as well as beautifully large Baroque canvases, rococo oil sketches, wood sculptures, as well as works by leading artists in the region.
The floors in the building are a smooth and shiny mid-toned hardwood, the walls a creamy beige though most near the entrance are covered with banners that advertise the different exhibits and galleries that can be found through large arches and doorways down the hallways.

It's early evening, the sun's been set for a couple of hours and Meadows Museum's fairly quiet, those there have fallen neatly into moving from one display to the next almost universally in the same direction. Michael's accompanied by a young woman, she talks to him in a very quiet voice while his attention seems entirely fixed on the picutres. "You know, when I first took an interest in art I was told the only true requirement for becoming a great artist was to be close to madness." He sighs slightly. "I look at the more modern trends and I'm inclined to agree." His voice is a strange mixture of accents, one with a good ear would notice a very slight Italian accent masked by the accent of an Englishman who's spent long enough in the states to begin losing his accent. "Still I can't say I disapprove."

Tonight marks the second straight evening that she's free of that horrible place. She will eventually have to return, this she knows, but Rose is looking for the reasons why she must remain confined in such a near prison. Last evening she was lucky enough to happen upon some strangers that were willing to help her but tonight will be different, she realizes.
Looking for a place to escape the winter weather for even a few moments, the mentally ill woman chooses a museum of all places. Go where they wouldn't expect to find you, she was told. This should do nicely. At first she is content to find a bench to sit upon as she scans the area to ensure that it is safe. Eventually she does begin to actually look at the exhibits. Just because she's crazy doesn't mean that she can't appreciate good art.
Rose just happens to walk past Michael and his date just in time to hear his views of the art that they're looking at. She nearly appears offended with his choice of words, but then cocks her head to the side to look at the painting before her. "Madness" It almost fits, really.

Shaking his head slightly Michael smiles to the woman with him. "But in regards to your request, no. I'm not inclined to accept your offer." His tone becomes somewhat stern. "And I suggest you don't make it again, to me or anyone else. It would only end badly for you." He nods his head to her very slightly. "Good evening, I look forward to seeing you again, and discussing other subjects." He smiles as he looks at the piece Rose is studying. "After the bath…" He seems mostly to be thinking aloud. "And he claimed to be a realist." The slight grin he wears as he speaks to Rose is warm, almost friendly. "Are you a fan?"

Hello, eavesdropping. It honestly is not her intent so Rose begins to fidget with something inside of her jacket pocket. Surely they won't think that she's listening if she pretends to be busy. She becomes so caught up in this that when she hears Michael's voice aimed more towards her she actually startles. Way to play it low key, Rose.
"I, uh," she begins, not quite sure what to say. Again the young woman turns to look at the piece, this time trying to decide if she actually likes it. "It's okay, I guess. It's better than some other modern pieces that I've seen but I'm honestly more of a fan of beauty over realism." Rose's mind may be Swiss cheese but she can remember some things about her past. Even though he's engaging her in civil conversation she still seems to be keeping a guard up for now.

Michael smiles very slightly. "Realism? I honestly have little time for the term… reality can never be captured in art… just the artists impression of reality." He shrugs a little. "I was fortunate enough to be shown art during my education, but I can't say I ever really had a passion for it." He bows slightly. "I'm sorry I've been rude, I'm Michael James Isonzo, at your service."

"That's the problem with the very word, really. What is real? Is it the way things are meant to be, or how they're viewed by others? I know I tend to see things differently than most, so does that mean that I just don't understand what is truly real, or is what is real different for me?" This is all said while Rose is looking at the so called art in front of her. "If art is meant to make you think, then I guess I like it. But I just don't have a strong feeling about it."
If some of the people who knew her could hear her now they may very well fall over.
Slowly Rose looks to Michael, her defenses slowly lowering. He's not the police so maybe he can be trusted. "You can call me Rose." It's been quite some time since she's been in a formal situation so instead of offering a hand to shake she merely tilts her head to the side and smiles. "And you haven't been rude. Don't people come to museums to talk about art?"

Nodding Michael laughs slightly. "Some do, others come to enjoy it in silence." He shrugs. "But that just as art, is down to the person viewing it. I find that my own interest is academic rather than emotional." He smiles to the woman. "As for reality… I've found that as you get older even your own perceptions change." He looks at the piece before him. He frowns a little. "I've found the power is never with the artist, but always with the critic, an artist will put himself into the work, I've known artists to hate the work that others call masterpieces, but ultimately it's what you see that gives it value, and what you want from it that matters." He shakes his head. "Still that's enough from me on views not widely held."

"I was once told that I can't do anything in silence, so I'm certainly not one to take offense to pleasant conversation." She's come such a long way over the past two years but even now she stands out as someone who is off. At least she can recognize it. "Either way, you're here for an experience, so why not enjoy it?" There's a moment's pause as she looks around for the woman he was with. "Was she one who liked silence?"
He may be willing to change the subject but Rose lingers on his words momentarily. "That is what you get when you are an artist. Anything can be art to someone, and no two people have to agree." Another pause. "That's how I think stores stay in business. Some of the clothes I see are downright hideous but someone else obviously likes them." She looks back at the painting. "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if some of these artists walked into a mental institution. They may try to frame everything."

Nodding Michael smiles slightly. "No, the young lady I was with was an…. aquaintance, she had no interest in art, she was here to ask something of me, I wasn't inclined to give it." He nods. "As for fashion I haven't had much of an interest in fashion for many years, although I find it best to try." He takes a look around. "Some of the artists were in mental institutions, or what passed for such in their day. And the rest generally took drugs for their muse."

Well, that explains that. "I'm sorry that you parted ways like that, Mister Isonzo. At least you were able to meet up in such a nice place." Rose? She's completely alone, other than the hamster she has stowed away in a bag that she carries. Company is nice at times. A moment is taken so she can look over herself. "I'm not fashionable, but I'm also not allowed to wear anything flashy. Still, -I- have to wonder about some of the things that are worn, and that's saying something."
The rest of what Michael says is considered for quite some time. "Why would people do that to themselves?" She turns back to look at him, almost as if a small child would look to her father for answers. "How can they enjoy that feeling? No one should be medicated unless they really need it, and just because someone is different doesn't mean that they need to be locked up." Someone's passionate about this subject.

Nodding Michael seems to consider that. "I'm not sorry, she was a foolish little girl, but I have given her what advice I can." He sighs a little. "And you obviously have never suffered the…. passion that some artists do." He shrugs. "Some of the artists genuinely needed medication that didn't exist, others simply found it allowed them to tap whatever part of themselves created their work. Most of the great artists were obsessive, as I say they poured a part of themselves into their work." He frowns studying Rose. "Still I agree, differences should be accepted, and embraced, it's only through this that a peoples can gain strength."

The other woman is actually forgotten as Michael continues to speak. Something about Rose seems to change. It's almost as if she becomes instantly depressed and withdrawn. Her gaze moves to one place that it hasn't been yet - her feet. "Everyone suffers in their own way," she finally says, her voice dropping. "I'm not an artist, no, but I think I understand how some of them may have felt."
Well, that's about enough of that. She's not strange, crazy or anything else. At least, these are the thoughts that are currently going through her mind. "Not that I'm one that should be preaching acceptance. For as much as I want it, I'm not very accepting of some others, even if I don't know why. It's funny how life works like that."

Nodding Michael frowns slightly. "We do all suffer, and I take to the belief that madness is the construct of limited minds, when facing perspectives they fail to understand, but it's definate that the artists of old were intense at least." He looks a little worried. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what I said to upset you." He studies the features of the young woman. "Really? May I ask who you're not very accepting of?"

She shakes her head slowly, pushing herself past her own depression. "It honestly isn't anything that you've said. It's more the fact that I refuse to properly see where I am right now. It's a dangerous game." Perhaps she should go back, especially since there's more than likely an APB out for her now. She's not ready just yet to accept that she belongs there, though. Maybe this conversation will get her closer than she has been and possibly even get her to accept her fate.
"Hmm?" Rose snaps out of her own thoughts at his last question. Her cheeks turn pink and she just has to keep from looking at him. "It's not very nice," she admits. At least she can think realistically. "Especially since I don't know why I feel the way I do. It isn't a hatred, not like what my doppelganger has. It's more, I don't know, fear?" As if that should indicate exactly what she's talking about.

Nodding Michael flashes that charming smile he's spent so many years mastering. "I can understand that, fear's better than hate, after all you can learn to stop being afraid, but few people are capable of learning to stop hating." He sighs a little. "But if I may, who exactly are you afraid of?"

That's a good point. "Can you really conquer a fear that you have no idea why you have in the first place?" Finally she attempts to look at him again, the embarrassment clear on her expression. Rose is almost confusing herself. "Now my clone says that He doesn't want us to like them, but I can't really understand what she means. I just, well, you don't want to see how I react."
He's going to make her come right out and say it, isn't he? Faith takes a deep breath as she tries to force herself to speak. It is civil conversation after all, correct? "Different things. Nighttime things." She even goes as far as to look around and lower her voice so that no one can her hear. Just speaking about it almost sets her off into an emotional breakdown. "With fangs and all that."

It's not a surprise Michael nods very slightly his expression one of mild amusement. "Yes, well that's perfectly understandable." He looks at Rose for a moment. "Vampires are after all predators, they have powers and a nature that is terrible to understand." He pauses a moment taking a slight breath. "But what you must understand is that as different as they are, as terrible as they may seem once they were human, once they felt, and acted and feared the same things you do." He looks Rose in the eyes. "And I tell you that I've known Vampires in my time and many still hold that…. humanity within them, now that they're public knowledge, now that they have a choice to be something other than predator… well now is the time that your fear begins to become dangerous."

Wouldn't it be interesting if she realized who exactly she's speaking with.
"In some ways I feel bad for them," Rose admits. "Not that I know any, or anything about them. But supposedly my brother died, and I know how that makes me feel. If more people I knew kept dying around me?" Immortality is what she's trying to say. It's a frightening concept when one thinks about it. "And no matter how much they try, they will be judged. It's not fair for any creature to go through that."
The struggle in the future for Rose will only get worse. She already knows so many people that she supposedly fears. "But I can't help it." Here her innocence comes out. Her mental fragility almost screams. "I can think about it and say that I'm not afraid, but just hearing the name triggers something inside of me. A reaction that sometimes can only be controlled by medication." She should know. "But I don't know why, and no one will tell me."

Michael seems to study Rose for a moment, his smile's still warm and charming, his face showing just a hint of concern as he looks at the woman. "Yes, I've heard people consider it like that. Although don't you think you'd form your own culture, find those like yourself that you could befriend, those who would never grow old and die? Even the one that made you, someone like a parent to you, a teacher and a guide, someone you'd call friend who would never grow old or die of sickness…. no they have it well enough I suspect." He runs a hand through his hair. "It sounds as though you're repressing whatever causes your fear of Vampires." Irony of Ironies, the girl with fear of Vampires, has just gained the interest of a Vampire.

That's an interesting way to look at it. "I'm pretty sure that my parents are terrorists so I wouldn't like that with them, no." Faith's parents are completely normal but she'll never care for them like she used to. It comes with the territory. "But I've never thought about all of that before. You can tell that I've never met any before." So not true. "If I did I'd like to ask them about it, but I doubt that I really would be able to." There may be holes in her memory but she remembers the last episode that she had. It's scary. "Although I know I would like to not be sick anymore."
It is rather ironic. Try telling that to Hope, though. It very likely won't end well. "Repressed? I don't know. I think aliens surgically removed the memories. They must have been good, though. Maybe it is how the aliens entertain themselves. You know, instead of cable television." Now Rose is rambling. "But I'm told that it's a good thing that I'm the way I am."

Michael seems to consider Rose a moment longer, then he removes a card from his jacket "Well Rose, I may be able to help you, if you wish… call me if you decide you want to see some of those holes filled." He smiles slightly bowing as he offers the card. "I am afraid however that for now I must be going, I have business to attend to."
Trouble is a good thing. :)"

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