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Still, there was something calming about wandering around the museum and looking at everything. She wasn't an artist and the only time she was creative was when she was thinking of ways to hurt people - even if she didn't follow through with them. There hadn't been a real chance for her to be violent for some time and it was saddening for her. There was a lot of pent up anger, violence, hatred. Nika couldn't rid herself of it. She wasn't sure she was always this way, she couldn't remember far back enough to her infant years to say for sure, but she knew she'd been this way since her earliest memories. Most people would balk at the underlying desire to kill, hurt, but Nika embraced it because how else was she supposed to be? Besides - she was far too exhausted to really fight it anyway.
Currently, Nika roamed through one of the current exhibitions that the MET was housing - Rei Kawakubo. She'd never been a huge fan of fashion, she preferred the ease of jeans and tshirts and leather jackets, but there was some kind of artistic brilliance in the fashion that was on display for this particular exhibit. Other people seemed to think otherwise because it wasn't nearly as busy as the others and that was exactly what Nika'd been looking for. The last thing she needed was someone pissing her off enough that she decided they'd be a good practice target for her new dagger. Unfortunately, Nika reached the end of the exhibit and she was deposited back out into the main lobby where there were far too many people for her liking. God, time to go back out into the day.
She slipped her sunglasses down over her eyes as she left the museum, standing at the top of the steps and looking at the crowd of people walking by. She wasn't quite ready to merge into the masses so instead she went down a few steps to take a seat, collapsing on the stone of them with some flare of drama. Nika tended to have a flare for the dramatic. She leaned back on the steps, her elbows digging into the cement as she watched people - trying to decide whether or not they were worthy of the lives they led, the happiness they felt. Nika was an observant woman, but even sometimes she got lost in her thoughts - as she did now, because she hadn't noticed someone coming too close until they were bumping right into her from behind as they descended the stairs. Immediately, she let out a growl and sharply reached out to grab at the ankle of the person. 'Watch where you're fucking going," she snarled, digging her nails into them before letting go with a rough shove. She didn't even bother to look up at them, her gaze still locked on the crowd.
FOR NIKA MOSKA >> I'm The Poison In Your Bones <<
Have you ever wondered how certain art pieces become so popular? For example, there's a canvas with only splattered paint on it, yet somehow people will see it as a complexity of the human spirit. How?! It's the type of art that anyone could do if given the same materials. Sadly, a turd with googly eyes and a mustache evoked more emotion out Shock than what was first mentioned. Someone could imprint their tooshie onto clay with labeled hipster lingo to transform it into a magical fountain made by The Thinker. Little known tidbit, the statue was not originally concieved to be heroic -- it was meant to be part of Rodin's monumental Gates of Hell (Dante's Inferno, anyone?). At least the famous sculpture possessed actual craftsmanship skill. It was what everyone should strive for when coming up with inspiration anywhere. Even on the toilet, because why not? Flushing down those mind numbing thoughts, the witch continued through - in her opinion - the valuable areas of the exhibition.
Beyond the corridor was the section of Arms and Armor from the Islamic World. The young woman grinned with spooky delight at the curved daggers, jeweled sheaths, and the etched helmets. Her finger snapped images on her camera for later viewing in the comfort of her own home. With an early fascination of weaponry, guns were never her first choice as it took the fun out of maiming someone by her own hand. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with memory flashes of bear traps, axes, spiked clubs, plungers and a pitch fork?! Closing her eyes to find her center of balance, Lalita let the nostalgia wave pass before she was ready to go into the Japanese Bamboo Art section. Also known as the Abbey Collection, the entrance was quite a sight with an arching weaved installation. It felt as if the plant was slowly melding within the floors and walls of the building. Tate and Mikey definitely needed to see what she captured during her trip to the museum. Some things in life were beyond belief that most might think it came right out of a story book.
The art form itself is called Godai, composing of 8,000 small pieces of bamboo -- representing a world where the five elements (wind, water, earth, void, and fire) intertwine. The interesting part about these massive canes was the spiritual association with protection. People often positioned them around religious buildings or other sacred places as a result. In the wild, they're rigid, durable, yet hollow on the inside. Shock thought the best way to drive out those with evil intentions was to leave them in a Bamboo forest. That's when sense of direction goes into overdrive, because they densely grow in close proximity. It's the equivalent of being lost in a hedge maze. She really wanted one of the baskets that was on display. Originally, it was used to store flowers, but her brain was focused on making it a place to horde food or sweets. She noted the artist - Tanabe Chikuunsai II - for future reference in her notebook wish list.
As she strolled out the exit, the crowd scurried around her figure like a swirling current. There was a thick skin that comes along with living in New York City. The best advice she ever received was that there was always an asshole around every corner, so mind as well get used to it. Speaking of which, Lalita's teeth clenched at this cheeky female digging their claws into her ankle. The forceful shove caused her to shake out the malicious energy out of her limb. Alright, who spit in this hot head's coffee or tea this morning? "Get your eyes checked if you can't handle the tourist attractions." her tone apathetic toward having her personal space invaded. "Better yet, go crawl back into the gutter where you came from." feeling the electric currents flowing through her veins. Trouble came whether she asked for it or not. Using her ability was a last resort, but self defense happened as a necessity to survive.
When the offending person spoke, it was with malice. Nika merely rolled her head up to look at the person, her dark eyes still hidden behind her sunglasses. Even though the other girl couldn't see her boredom filled eyes, the rest of her face expressed exactly that. Nika waited for the girl to finish her tirade with a remark that she assumed was meant to be scathing, but she'd been called worse and told worse. It usually was the last thing someone said to her. She found herself feeling slightly merciful this go around, however, and so she didn't make any quick movements to react violently. Or at least, not as violently as she normally would. Nika languidly stood from her reclining position on the steps, getting on the same level as the smaller girl.
Nika herself wasn't a physically intimidating person. It was her attitude, the way she looked at everyone like she would gladly snap their neck without hesitation, that made her scary. There was something unsettling in the way she approached everything with a calm. Like the one that happened right before a big storm rolled through. It was a form of anticipation that not many people could handle and Nika used that to her advantage. Sometimes being silent was just as frightening as delivering a verbal threat.
Her gaze narrowed slightly and she reached over to gently grip the girl's jaw, her fingernails pressing against the soft smooth skin there. Boundaries and lines… Nika didn't know what those were. "You should have a better awareness of your surroundings, lovely." She slowly turned the girl's face so that she was looking at the spot Nika had just vacated. "I was there. You bumped into me." Abruptly, Nika released her jaw, setting her own firmly in a show of self restraint she didn't often allow herself to chase down. "The correct thing to say is 'I'm sorry.'"
NIKA E. MOSKA >> I'm The Poison In Your Bones <<
Throughout Tate's comic series of the trio's lives in Halloween Town, Lalita noticed that they all looked dead. Before she grew into her magical ability, the witch didn't think much of it until she started making connections. The perpetual grins they shared was a disturbing feature all on its own. Yet Shock wore an opposite expression with her mask, an important detail that most overlooked. In a proverb, it is believed a person had three faces. The first you showed to the world, the second you show to your friends and family, and the third you never show to anyone. It's the truest reflection of the individual. A spine tingling concept when she already carried such a macabre spirit. Can this stranger keep a secret and take it to her grave? Cross her heart and hope to die?
The brunette's comments weren't meant to be threatening, but to point out the obvious in the other girl's reactions. If these little annoyances made the stranger's panties tangle in a bunch, then Shock successfully got under her skin. While this was outwardly a tense moment, her sinister smile was beaming on the inside. As she was starting to lose interest, the furious figure decided to meet her on the same step -- only to have that clichéd stare down. The form of intimidation felt like they were flirting, which reflected in her confusion. Suddenly her face lifted as nails dug into her jaw, Lalita was positive that blood was going to trail from those areas. Did she care? Not really, because her body gained tolerance to certain types of pain as a child. To say it didn't completely hurt was an understatement, but what she fortunately could feel was a reminder that she was still connected to her body.
Playing into this game of taunting, there was legit fear that she might get smooched. Her brain's wiring did not compute the emotion like normal people. Soaking in every word, Shock's instinct was to break every bone in her wretched hand. There was a flicker of liveliness in her gaze as she stared at the empty spot. Was this edgy woman really bringing up manners and morals? A cackle escaped out of pure disbelief from this entire situation. "Two wrongs don't make a right, snicker doodle." she was really horrible with terms of endearment. "If it's really that important.... I'm sorry that you're still alive." realizing that she should've pushed her harder so she'd break her neck down the stairs.
What the hell was wrong with people? A shove was nothing compared to getting randomly puked on by a child, experiencing a golden shower by a territorial canine, or a bird having uncontrollable bowel movements in a tree. Somewhere. Somehow. One of them was going to snap at any given second. Her money was on the cranky grouch.