#( coryn st. croix: 001 / ft. victor acosta )

[ofruinations]

for @gcldenhawk—

"I swear to—wait, are you new?" Maybe it's a new welcome to the cushy sectors, but he isn't great at being the welcome wagon. "New to town, or new to the job?"

[ofruinations]

"Got it. Let things happen." A come-on that isn't initiated by him is a losing battle. Pursuit keeps him afloat, and so he goes to tossing a coin in his mind, thinking on whether or not to crush the space in between, or otherwise. Pursuit—but not by him. With that thought, he pushes him back, creates a little more distance as he floats away and smiles coyly. Artist speak. He's going to get used to it, he thinks. Hopefully. Involuntarily, the light behind him cuts Victor differently, less of a soft glow and more sharp cuts as they continue to speak. "So then, anything you want to see around the Faire? Anything interesting you want to draw, dollface?" His voice is a purr, wondering how long the interaction will take before either one gets bored. "Or do you enjoy just standing around and talking to pop stars?"

the visceral reaction victor has in response to coryn is exhilarating. a high the graphic artist could definitely get used to. just because of its sincerity. and coryn has always been a fan of authenticity, having grown up on its counterpart all throughout his troublesome youth. ❝challenge accepted.❞ laughs the handsome creole born male, erasing what distance he could with his lithe frame. his movements smooth as aged cognac and just as intoxicating. ❝that's not how it works. I am merely an observer of human nature. to demand something from you would only make this transaction of ours—artificial. and that's no fun. don't people please me. just let things—happen.❞

[ofruinations]

Artist speak. How it both says something critically true and makes Victor want to simply run to the nearest club to forget what it says. Even if the statement was true and immediately able to be transmuted into what Victor thinks is the world's highest grade joke, (rawness—really?) he simply lets himself ease into the conversation as he tries to keep it going. Artist speak or not, it at least a break from the performances. "Tell me how raw you catch me," he says, unable to help himself. "And honestly, tell me what you like to see. I'm always open to feedback, whether I like it or not."

there's something off about the come on. not that coryn is a stranger to such brazen comments, just look at him! he's aphrodite in the flesh! everyone should want a piece of his fine ass! literally and figuratively. however, he can't seem to buy what the other is selling. almost as if this v person doesn't either. and coryn isn't the type to force connections. you either want them or don't.❝if you say so, victor.❞ coryn chuckles, pointing the graphite pencil in his direction as if mapping out the dimensions of his frame.❝I believe so. there's something fascinating in capturing the rawness of an individual; especially when they fail to see it within themselves.❞

[ofruinations]

There's a second reflex to roll his eyes—V never stood for anything. It's market-made for mystique and seduction, or so he's been told. A singular initial never betrayed anything and made him look a little deeper. It was a mirage of depth, but he never minded it. "You can call me whatever you want, doll, just as long as it keeps my name in your mouth." Eugh. The line makes him gag, and the reflex makes it feel worse. "But it's Victor," he says, cutting a wide grin across his face, happy with the back and forth. "So Coryn. Drawing anything interesting there?"

he can find beauty in just about anyything. the good, the bad, and the ugly; where this stranger categorizes is still a mystery to the graphic novelist. one he cannot wait to unravel in due time. hopefully, nothing spoils this newfound conquest for coryn. otherwise, he'll be pissed. downright angry bird. there's a guffaw somewhere in the midst of inner musings, coryn mocking the stranger's roll of the eyes. though, his impression is a bit more dramatic. ❝does the v stand for vendetta?❞ coryn asks in jest while twirling a pencil in hand. ❝coryn. and the pleasure is all yours.❞

[ofruinations]

He wonders what the stranger sees. For a man so invested in his own persona, he can never understand anyone else's perception of him—or at least, what they think of him in private. The non-answer comes back up again, and there's a palpable roll of his eyes in spirit, though he wonders if he should wear his sunglasses at night and look like an idiot, just so his judgement goes through. "Well then, let me be the first to start a bond—V, at your service," he offers, though Victor sort of expects him to know who he is. "What's your name then, new-old neighbor?"

❝that's such a shame. you miss so much when you're not paying attention—all the idiosyncrasies of life.❞ replied coryn with humorous mirth. gaze fixated on the stranger, mapping out the slopes that compose his handsome visage. those cheekbones, lord have mercy! you could cut marble from them. coryn comments inwardly, curious to know if anyone has ever tried. ❝years, months. people tend to bond in a matter of seconds. it's all so subjective. but I suppose, the clarification fits in my regard. well, depending on who you ask.❞

[ofruinations]

Ah. Definitely an artist. The non-answer to the question is definitely a Sector special. Or at least the guy has the good makings of one Victor tries to look a little more invested as he goes along with the conversation that he admittedly started with this man. "Oh, I don't remember the comings and goings of everyone in Sector Nine," he says sweetly, "Maybe... a year? That's new, right? OR six months, how's that? You just someone living there for six months or less?"

❝to some, yes. to others—hell no.❞ coryn remarks inconspicuously, twirling a sharpie pen between nimble and very talented fingers with ease. the illustrator embodying a chesire cat like persona with a mischievous tilt of the head, refusing to play by any rules orher is his own. ❝how new is new, anyway?❞