daud | the knife of dunwall (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wolfofdunwall) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kingdomsofrain2018-08-29 10:57 pm
wolfofdunwall) wrote in kingdomsofrain2018-08-29 10:57 pm
dishonored meme
***
a dishonored meme
'ever since the empress died, it's been getting darker in dunwall. but it's that moment just before the light goes that matters most of all.'
the isles are caught amid fractious days, and you find yourself living among them. perhaps - probably - you’ve lived here all your life. perhaps you’ve been brought here by some magical means. whatever the case, you’ve made or will make a life among the isles.
if you were born in or around the isles, what’s your lot in life? are you nobility? a person of great means? a member of the city watch? a shipmate? an inventor? perhaps a civilian just trying to make your way through the rat plague. perhaps a thief, a gang member, an assassin. perhaps a witch or a devotee of the outsider, or perhaps an overseer, scourge of the occult.
when you comment, add a little bit about who your character is in the dishonored world. what your occupation is (if you have one), what you think about recent events, what you tend to do with your days. (if you want to give multiple options re: who they are, feel free!)
you might also want to offer some prompts: scenario ideas, picture prompts, quotes, words, whatever you like.
BUT ART, DAUD!
Possibly? Who's to say? The few times that we've talked, I've shooed him off. [ His expression sours as he explains why, complete with rolling his eyes and waving his hand dismissively like one of Dunwall's rich dismissing a poorly-made meal. ] What use do I have for someone who sits outside of everything and observes? [ Stefano lets out a loud and suffering sigh. ] He is forever safe within his dreams and his Void. So he does not know anything of the art that I am creating. He does not know anything about living.
[ His shoulders lift and lower as he shrugs in a nonchalant way. ] But just this once he has proven somewhat worth knowing... he let me know who you are. [ And his face immediately brightens up as he takes yet another step closer. ] You're someone who lives in the here and the now. You don't live in a safe or careful way. You don't observe. You affect this world in a shower of blood, bone, and ruined flesh. [ Stefano looks up at Daud with great admiration. ]
I had heard of you before him, of course. Who hasn't heard of you? But I, foolishly, thought you were but mortal assassin. A good killer is a good killer, but you have his Mark and ... you're also creating beauty. You're creating a new vision for this world to walk in! [ He takes a sweeping step backwards to gesture towards the corpse now cooling behind them, the pool of blood growing underneath him. ]
You're just like me!
cue the deepest facepalm in all the world
Perhaps this man isn't wholly mad, after all. So long as Daud ignores his claim that they're somehow exactly alike. It's a ridiculous idea, and Daud's gaze sharpens at its sound, but it isn't enough to put him off.
Amid the chaos of words, what catches Daud most is the talk of 'him.' The 'him' who's been shooed away - an act Daud can understand; an act Daud could applaud - and who 'sits outside of everything.' The 'him' who's so neatly anatomized by this man, who seems not to have impressed this self-styled artist.
Daud hopes the black-eyed bastard regrets what he's done. The strange, flitting creature he's unleashed. (But that's too much to hope for, isn't it? More likely, the Outsider's enjoying the show this one provides. More likely, the Outsider knew exactly what he was doing when he marked this man.) ]
You speak as if you've known him for years.
[ Again there's an unintentional accusation in the statement, a tone Daud would deny if confronted. ]
But you're right about the bastard.
[ Daud produces and lights a cigarette, takes a deep draw and looks around. ]
This is your work.
both hands on his face as he sighs loudly
[ Even as a Marked, he does not feel the Outsider's influence in anything that he does. He only sees him watching and commenting -- like an aristocrat waiting to say they hate his painting.
Stefano smiles at hearing Daud agree with him. That's right. The Knife must have known him for a long time. Poor man. He offers no real insight into anything that we're doing and so I can only imagine how useless he has been in helping to craft a new future for Dunwall out of the corpses of the corrupt. ]
It is. Though, I must say that it is also a lot more ... rudimentary than my other works. I fear, as I said, I was growing a bit desperate. I was thinking you might have thought my previous works of art as a challenge, or threat against your life! [ His hand once more rests upon his chest as he lets out a pained sigh. ] But I was certain that you would understand that it was not... when I left your Whalers alive.
They're quite endearing pieces of art that you've made. [ He leans forward with his hands clasped behind his back. ] They carry with them a vision and a beauty in their kills that only you could have given them. I noticed them following me... and looking into what I was doing. I was worried that they'd attempt to do something foolish, but glad that they did not.
If I killed one, it would feel the same as someone stabbing one of my paintings. It would have to be answered in blood. And I could only accept your anger. [ In short, he is relieved that they never drew too closer or gave off the air that they were itching for a fight with him. ] But I've gone on about your works of art.
Please... tell me what you think of mine!
this icon is what's up
Not all of the phrases the stranger spews are so well-received.
Daud could point out that he has known the Outsider for years. That before the little shit went silent, there had been frequent visits, conversations held beyond the realm of dreams. But Daud prefers to think that none of that matters. Reminds himself once again that he's better of without the bastard.
He could point out that if he'd read the man's bloody messages as death threats, the man wouldn't be standing right now. Mark or not, he'd be dead in the gutter, a feast for rats.
And... Is the man asking for feedback?
For fuck's sake. ]
I'm no critic.
[ He takes another draw on the cigarette, releases the smoke. ]
And I don't have your name.
how amazingly accurate!!
[ He is positively beaming as he agrees wholeheartedly that Daud is no critic, no fool. ]
I am Stefano. Stefano Valentini. [ For a second, he thinks he should give a bow but he decides against it. ] It's unfortunate that you do not have my name ... I suppose I shall never be as famous as the Knife of Dunwall. This... I have come to accept. Even if I were to kill you, I would only be known as the man who killed Daud. [ His arms open as he drops his head down in surrender. He admits completely that he cannot step out of the shadow that the assassin has created. ]
What good is that? You're truly a master and I am still an apprentice at this business of murder. No matter how glamorous I present my art, they always compare it to yours. [ Whether or not that is true is up for debate; it's true to Stefano. ] But I still have a vision for this world. A vision where we can learn to live with the horrors that we have endured and suffered. [ He takes a sweeping step backwards, opening his arms to the sky, to Dunwall. ]
Within these horrors, we can come to find the beauty that is our life! Within the pain that we are constantly in, we learn to see the glory of what we have been given. [ Pivoting, he faces Daud before he lifts his bangs to show his eye. A broken piece of a knife still embedded in the socket. ] Behold ... the pain of this injury still chases after me during every waking and sleeping moment.
But even so, I am ... ignited with inspiration to create. [ He throws his hand out toward the corpse he's mutilated for his art. ] Even so, I feel a desire to give back to this city and to have them walk this path with me. And that is why, yes, that's why I wanted to talk about a collaborative piece.
no subject
Well.
Daud doesn't tense at the absurd way this man speaks so lightly of killing him, those his gaze sharpens, and he feels a burning pulse of irritation. As if this man could. As if he so easily could. It's a ridiculous notion, and one that Daud decides is scarcely worth addressing.
Nor does he shift at the sight of the man's ruined eye. He's seen worse, after all. Has inflicted greater waste on others. True, it's strange to see someone walking around in this fashion. Strange to see somebody survive such a wound, let alone set it out for brief display. And though Daud mostly assumes that the blade remains embedded because moving it would kill the man, there's a part of him that wonders whether Stefano left it there - or planted the blade himself - for the sake of appearances. (It'd fit, somehow. It wouldn't be surprising, dramatic as this bastard is.)
He doesn't point out that he's seen no mention of Stefano's so-called work compared with his own assassinations. Doesn't see why anyone would draw the connections. Daud's work is at once graceful and practical, subtle, and he kills for show only (mostly) when the clients ask for it. While Daud won't deny that there's been a certain grace to Stefano's displays, the overall affect is much more grandiose, and he seems to kill for (does he truly kill for?) the sake of the display itself, and for the sake of his name.
He'd ask about the wound, but he isn't interested. Doesn't need to know more than what's he's already gleaned. And what it tells him - it, combined with the way Stefano speaks of his art, of presenting the world with his vision - is that this man possesses a powerful strength of will. Which is why Daud remains where he is. Which is why he shows no signs of retreat. Which is why this man continues to hold his attention. ]
I don't work well with others.
And I'm not interested in walking with the wretches of this city.
[ Daud's always been more concerned with moving beyond the city. Stepping out from its bounds, twining it into his grasp. ]
no subject
[ Stefano dismisses the comment that he does not work well with others and ignores the rest -- which is one whole sentence more. ]
If that was true, you would not have your works of art. [ His shoulders drop as it seems like he has not done enough to impress Daud with his own masterpieces. Clicking his tongue, the artist understands the reason why. He rests his hand over his good eye as he lets out a suffering sigh. ] I understand ... yes, I understand completely.
I have been far too ... desperate for your approval that I have ended up causing you to doubt my abilities. [ His hand slides away. He decides to change gears in order to appeal to the man with his insight. ] This city ... is the heart of everything. It's where his attention is, you know. As much as I dislike the Outsider for doing no more than watching, I understand that he sees Dunwall as important. [ He turns his gaze away from Daud to look toward the corpse he has put on display. ]
Why do you think that is? [ A beat. He can't contain himself -- and he spins back around. Stefano takes one-two-three quick steps to draw back into Daud's space. His expression reads of someone who wants to say something but he holds himself back. Like an eager schoolboy, he believes he knows the answer but waits to hear the assassin's answer first. ]