shit-talking the glitterati

[the_cupbearer]

Sitting on a convenient bench in the middle of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Ganymede crosses his ankles, legs outstretched in front of him. It's a mix of snow and drizzling, misty rain outside through the wide glass windows, and he's enjoying playing tourist in his own city. The art is magnificent, he remembers much of it being made--and in front of him is a painting of his own story. The Abduction of Ganymede.

"I know it's supposed to be beautiful art," he murmurs. "But most of what I remember is the artists groping me. And most of them were bad at it to boot," he chuckles. "They all thought they were so irresistible, do you remember?"

Comments

Hell yeah

[inamabilis]

Armand has always loved art in a way that could be difficult to describe. Passionately would be a good word, maybe, if one could call that to the kind of passion that led someone to stare at a painting of the three Wise Men for five hours. Bit insane, too.

He didn't show it always, and he didn't use that passion in the same way as Louis. Armand didn't much care for art as a form of trade, even if he was well aware of its merits as another means of currency. There was always so much more behind a piece of art- a display of power, a snapshot of a moment in time in history told, a song dedicated to life and death, the exaltation of one's religious faith...and in this case, what was in front of him was reality turned myth and a reminder of how gross some artists could be.

"All too well."

The answer is curt and dry as a bone, but the sharpness is not directed at Ganymede but at their past abusers. Too many of them to remember all their faces, names, or bad habits, but some left a stronger mark. A stain, in Armand's case, something that felt indelible. He doesn't want to think of those now, but given what their current activity is, it's inevitable. They can be casual about it. His tone shifts in time with the movement of his legs, also getting crossed so he can rest an elbow over one knee, the corner of his lips upturning in a smile.

"At least the smell of paint and turpentine covered their stench. Do tell me, how happy were you when indoor plumbing and mechanical showers were invented?"