Doug Rattmann (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
suckersluck) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2012-01-22 09:41 pm
suckersluck) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-01-22 09:41 pm
Entry tags:
a truth so strange it can only be lied into existence
CHARACTERS: Doug Rattmann (suckersluck) and OPEN!
LOCATION: A random side hallway near Engineering.
WARNINGS: Mild craziness?
SUMMARY: Doug's spent a week trying to cope with his arrival, and he's well overdue for a slightly manic art therapy session.
NOTES: Doug won't hang around very long after finishing the painting, but you're free to have been watching him, catching him fleeing the scene, or miss him completely and just admire his ramblings. All up to you!
The paintbrushes were the easiest to find: stored away in his locker and wrapped in cloth, they were worn and reliable and familiar. The paint was more difficult, but an unlocked storeroom finally provided enough to work with, and a quiet corridor near Engineering felt out of the way enough for a mural.
Finding the paint couldn't have come at a better time; Doug's mind hurt. He'd spent a week with his thoughts tying themselves in knots, trying to work through what was real on this impossible ship, and what was just his mind lying to him. It was an overload -- there were people here, not sleeping test subjects or dead scientists or homicidal AIs. There was food, showers, beds, hints of normalcy that left him nervous and paranoid. His fingers itched to paint.
With one hand clenched around the brush, he sorted through the mess of his thoughts, finding a thread and following it to an idea, and expression. The first stroke came slowly, carefully, thoughtfully -- but with the second, third, fourth, his paced picked up, and he lost himself in the art.
Doug came back to himself with a clearer mind and a paint-speckled lab coat. He felt settled, tired but calm, and he took one long look at his work before quietly gathering his supplies and turning to leave.
suckersluck) and OPEN!LOCATION: A random side hallway near Engineering.
WARNINGS: Mild craziness?
SUMMARY: Doug's spent a week trying to cope with his arrival, and he's well overdue for a slightly manic art therapy session.
NOTES: Doug won't hang around very long after finishing the painting, but you're free to have been watching him, catching him fleeing the scene, or miss him completely and just admire his ramblings. All up to you!
The paintbrushes were the easiest to find: stored away in his locker and wrapped in cloth, they were worn and reliable and familiar. The paint was more difficult, but an unlocked storeroom finally provided enough to work with, and a quiet corridor near Engineering felt out of the way enough for a mural.
Finding the paint couldn't have come at a better time; Doug's mind hurt. He'd spent a week with his thoughts tying themselves in knots, trying to work through what was real on this impossible ship, and what was just his mind lying to him. It was an overload -- there were people here, not sleeping test subjects or dead scientists or homicidal AIs. There was food, showers, beds, hints of normalcy that left him nervous and paranoid. His fingers itched to paint.
With one hand clenched around the brush, he sorted through the mess of his thoughts, finding a thread and following it to an idea, and expression. The first stroke came slowly, carefully, thoughtfully -- but with the second, third, fourth, his paced picked up, and he lost himself in the art.
Doug came back to himself with a clearer mind and a paint-speckled lab coat. He felt settled, tired but calm, and he took one long look at his work before quietly gathering his supplies and turning to leave.
no subject
"Yes." His voice is quiet and a little rough -- not much need to talk, in Aperture. The Cube was the only who would answer, anyway. Well, the only friendly one.
no subject
"Testers, huh." His helmet tips back down at the man, an eyebrow silently rising behind it. "Who?"
no subject
He trails off. An empty, cavernous ship with pods full of people did not inspire any trust in him.
no subject
"But it's possible."
How probable it is doesn't really matter.