Information
Portfolio
Legacy Name: Portfolio
The Chibi Noktoa
Owner:
Age: 12 years, 6 months, 4 weeks
Born: August 30th, 2011
Adopted: 12 years, 6 months, 4 weeks ago
Adopted: August 30th, 2011
Statistics
- Level: 471
- Strength: 1,170
- Defense: 1,170
- Speed: 1,170
- Health: 1,170
- HP: 1,164/1,170
- Intelligence: 251
- Books Read: 251
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Luxury Hotel Manager
I'm an "artiste," he says, extra emphasis and accent on the 'i', making air quotes with his fingers and everything. You nod, simultaneously annoyed and intrigued, debating whether or not this is a worthwhile way to spend your Saturday.
He continues. You sigh, disappointed with yourself for encouraging him. "Yup, you heard me. My work isn't cheap. You see all these other 'artists' out here, you think they're working their butts off? Nope."
You roll your eyes and step backwards to try to make a break for the front door but he cuts you off, eager as a puppy and equally in need of training.
"Hey, hey," he says, nearly drooling with anticipation,"You can't leave yet! You haven't seen all of my work. It's great, I'm telling you.
He scurries over to his desk, swiping the crumpled papers onto the floor. The room is chock-full from top to bottom with crumpled paper and unfinished (but nonetheless impressive, you must admit) sketches. You scowl, thoroughly irritated with his antics.
"Just wait," he says, as if you had anything else to do. The sound of him rummaging through drawers filled to the brim with crumpled paper and inkblots is possibly the most annoying thing you have ever heard in your life. His hands are grey with pencil smudges and his eyes shine with a disturbing kind of neurotic excitement.
"You've never seen real art until you've seen mine," he says, smiling a wide, pleading, almost menacing smile that kind of reminds you of the Cheshire cat. You look at the door again, wondering if there's time to make your escape, but decide against it when you realize he's periodically glancing back at you to see if you're paying attention to him.
He continues to chat up his own art while throwing bunches of papers on the floor until you feel like you're swimming in a sea of murdered trees. You can see your obituary in the paper now:
"Struggling Art Critic Bleeds to Death After Suffering Numerous Papercuts to Jugular."
Loose papers slide off the desktop and seesaw in the air, teetertottering to the ground in lazy whirls.
You sit on the nearest chair and rest your cheek on your fist, releasing a not-so-discreet sigh of exasperation.
Across from you, the 'artiste' seems to not have noticed your irritability and continues to sift through the endless piles of paper surrounding and covering his desk.
Finally, after what seems like a lifetime of sitting slumped in a chair watching his harried movements, he seems to have hit the jackpot.
He lets out a wild cry of triumph and holds up a tattered manila folder, clearly excited beyond all sanity. You jump a little when you hear his shriek, shocked out of your reverie, not at all surprised to find that you're even more irritated than before.
You ask yourself for the millionth time what the devil possessed you to come down here in consorts with this loon. He's walking towards you with the manila folder, a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead.
He plops down on the chair next to you, smiling like a maniac. You scoot as far away from him as is possible on the tiny chair you're sitting on, smiling back unconvincingly.
"Can you believe it?" he says. "I finally found this damn thing." He's panting like a dog. You could reach over and pet him on the head, if you wanted to. You're quite tempted to, in fact.
He pushes the manila folder toward you eagerly, eyes bright and feverish. "I don't think you're ready to see my full genius," he says, his impossibly wide smile deepening. But here goes.
You sigh, taking the folder gingerly away from him, and scowl at it. You steel yourself.
You open the folder. No, you were definitely not prepared for this. There is no way you could have been prepared for this. They are absolutely...
Amazing.
Beautiful drawings of people, page upon page upon page. What seems like endless pieces of paper with people painted or sketched or inked in various poses, realistic and breathtaking. Your mouth is hanging open and you look at him, surprised beyond measure.
He's smiling triumphantly, expectantly. "I told you you've never seen anything like it. Isn't it great?"
You nod vigorously, dazed.
He takes the papers out of the folder individually, spreading them out on the floor before you. So many pieces and each one, impossibly, seems to be a completely unique (and brilliant) style.
You stare at them, entranced, until you notice the signatures.
They're all different.
You frown, pointing out the signatures, and his face reddens.
"Are you accusing me of stealing?" he screams. "I would never steal art!" He's breathing hard, chest heaving. Then he smiles. "Art is the greatest thing. It deserves the utmost respect. I wouldn't steal it. It's all mine. I just have different personas."
You raise an eyebrow.
He scowls, suddenly irritable, and says, "If you don't like my work, you can just get out."
You refuse, trying to convince him that you actually like the art, but he's smiling again. "No, you know what?" he says. "I think you should stay. It would be great for you to see some nice art, for once. I know you art critics have it hard, with all the nonsense out there nowadays."
You stare at him for a while, disquieted by his mood swings.
He walks out of the room, upset. Minutes later he walks back in crying. "I just couldn't take it if you didn't like my art," he says. "I just want people to like it. Don't you like it?"
You stand up, trying to convince him that his art is wonderful, really, it is, but it's time for you to go.
"Don't go," he says quietly.
You turn and hurry toward the door. Behind you, for some strange reason, he starts to laugh, sending a chill down your spine.
Days later, the disturbing incident almost completely gone from your mind (thank goodness), you're drinking coffee out on the porch. You're looking forward to the next art show you have scheduled to critique. They say he's some kind of child prodigy, the savior of modern art.
The day is bright. It's cool, but in a pleasant way, the sun shining down on head. Your coffee is fragrant, the steam coating your nostrils. Below you, the morning crowd is their way to work, chatting pleasantly on cellphones or with each other.
You think to yourself that things are looking up. You're doing quite well, after all.
You return the paperboy's smile as he rides by on his bike, tossing the newspaper on your porch.
It lands directly in front of you, the front page flapping in the wind.
You look down at it, finding one of the art pieces on the front quite familiar, and read, to your dismay:
Community Artist Arrested
31 year old [name not disclosed by authorities], community recluse and artist, was arrested this evening. The police investigation ensued after an anonymous tip led police to an art critique blog with pictures of stolen art he claimed to be his own.
Profile by Dotty
Story by raw
Art by: Phobia, Seayari, Tethys and Lunarian.
Credits
Pet Treasure
Red Colored Pencil
Orange Colored Pencil
Yellow Colored Pencil
Green Colored Pencil
Blue Colored Pencil
Turquoise Colored Pencil
Purple Colored Pencil
Pink Colored Pencil
Brown Colored Pencil
White Colored Pencil
Gray Colored Pencil
Black Colored Pencil
Dusk Marker
Golden Marker
Dawn Marker
Field Marker
Lilac Marker
Sun Marker
Rouge Traditional Ink Stick
Vermilion Traditional Ink Stick
Mineral Green Traditional Ink Stick
Mineral Blue Traditional Ink Stick
Traditional Ink Stick
Umber Traditional Ink Stick
White Traditional Ink Stick
Red Inkwell
Black Inkwell
Red Artist Acrylic Paint
Orange Artist Acrylic Paint
Yellow Artist Acrylic Paint
Green Artist Acrylic Paint
Light Blue Artist Acrylic Paint
Dark Blue Artist Acrylic Paint
Violet Artist Acrylic Paint
Black Artist Acrylic Paint
White Artist Acrylic Paint
Sun Metal Paint
Golden Metal Paint
Cream Metal Paint
Field Metal Paint
Dusk Metal Paint
Dawn Metal Paint
Marsh Metal Paint
Twilight Metal Paint
Arid Metal Paint
Artist Fan Brush
Artist Flat Brush
Artist Angle Brush
Artist Filbert Brush
Yellow Sidewalk Chalk
Green Eraser
Blue Eraser
Purple Eraser
Pink Eraser
Gray Eraser
Green Sidewalk Chalk
Blue Sidewalk Chalk
Pink Sidewalk Chalk
Darkmatter Sidewalk Chalk