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[ Up Fabian meanders in his slow placid sort of way. He drapes his arms over the podium and links those bony fingers for a moment before deciding this question would be best delivered around a cigarette. Once that's been taken care of, he goes back to previous posture. ]

Do you fear death; do you long for it? Does death inspire a curiosity or a paralysis within your thoughts? Have you put great thought in to after death? Do you have your own personal belief?

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What good has easing ever done? [ No, no. He's opening it. Are you kidding? And while he's flattered by your addressing his current state, in time you'll get used to it. It's not really something to be alarmed by or worried over as much as it's the common state of Fabian Malstrom after 5PM. ]

Likely not, but my curiosity is ever the hungry.

Edited (gtfo comma) 2014-10-10 14:15 (UTC)

It wins you appreciation from people who don't usually have problems sleeping at night.

[ But who wants appreciation from those people?

Nate is somewhat amused to see Fabian opening the bottle, if not in a judgmental way, because he has no room for that. It's funny because then Fabian's not that different from previous artist friends Nate has known. It puts him in mind of classic exchanges along the lines of "this is meant to be drunk in small glasses" and "well we don't have any small glasses," with memory becoming hazy shortly after. ]

I haven't put a lot of thought into it. Not beyond the basic physical realities. Should I ask you about your beliefs, or just wait to see your art?

[ Fabian is 100% stereotypical artist. He just also happens to be a nature loving witch on the side of that. You've been warned- if you haven't already noticed.

Anyhow, Fabian waves a hand. Indeed, who wants anything to do with those people. No cup, but there is a lid. Innovation is what it's all about. ] Certainly you do not fall under that bore of an umbrella.

[ He's not sure how he feels about this. The liquor, that is. ] You should do as you please and I will act in kind.

[ One day Nate will find that out and despair (more than usual), because he could actually use the help. Even if it involved crystals. ]

How LaVeyan of you. I don't know if I'm prepared for your art. Is that as odd as it smells?

Not really. [ He offers the drink. Go one, you bought it. ] Art has a profound impact on some people. Art has caused ire, sorrow, and madness in viewers. I think that a well crafted piece of art should inspire an emotional reaction whether good or ill.

Many artists, sad to say, are simply not good artists.

[ its in the way people use them or purchase them, dear Nate. They belong in nature not store shelves. If you want something of the earth, find it there. ]

[ Such advice would inspire no confidence, and direct him back to the mindset of drinking one's supernatural problem into submission. Which is no doubt why he accepts a taste despite his better judgment. With a little grimace, he hands it back immediately. ]

I'm willing to accept kind mediocrity in lieu of disturbing profundity. I don't think it's as common as it seems. And the next time I want to share a cultural product from Abkhazia, maybe I'll choose something else.

I think there are two sets of people. Those who ache for something more and those who fear it. The latter tends to be those who already know too much. [ Just tell him if he's warm, here. Oh- thanks, he'll take that drink again then. ]

What were you expecting, honestly?

Something more — in art, or in death?

[ His artplebeian act isn't usually much of an act, but it comes in handy when he doesn't feel like giving any indication of what goes on in his head. As now. It's a difficult balance between that and boring Fabian away, which he doesn't want. ]

Not that.

[ Baby steps and all that. You shouldn't fear boring him. He's already intrigued and pushing and prying at something doesn't warrant results. You have to learn trust. He is patient. ] Art is a reflection of life, so I would say life and therefore also death.

You should try akvavit sometime.

[ Nate appears to meditate on that, as the progress of their conversation has meandered a bit. So much of what he does in being evasive isn't... very evasive. Everything is very neat and folded up and ordinary. ]

I personally don't know too much, I think. Not about life, death, or art. Sort of like if you're standing somewhere very high up, you don't need to be able to see the ground to be afraid.

I'll. Consider that. My first exploration into international liquor was baijiu, so.

Fair enough. What drives your desire for mediocrity, then? [ Chainsmoker that he is when drinking, he lights another. Not like he can get fucking cancer anyway. ]

Just curious.

Same analogy from the other side, I guess. If you're at the bottom of the abyss, just get a little higher up. No need to shoot for the stars.

[ His smile is more sheepish, as if this is the slacker sentiment of a chronic underachiever and not, for example, the words of someone digging his nails into the metaphorical cliff face while shadowy hands pull on his legs. That's a little too dramatic for easy analogies. ]

So are you and your art are part of those who long for more?

No, it's a part of a longing for destruction of the self. [ stark moment of honesty here ]

I don't paint or write for anyone. If it effects someone, then it does so.

[ His glasses might hide it, but his gaze drops from Fabian immediately, at least for a moment. Surprised, maybe not that surprised, he's not good at analyzing his own reaction. To hear that from someone else's mouth. ]

I can see how it might.

[ A bland automatic response to tide the conversation over while he rallies himself to produce something more normal. ]

I — would like to see them. Some day.

[ ... not entirely successful. ]

[ His art is for himself. His magic is for others. At least... he really needs to justify his existence by such a proposed purpose. Let's - not talk about this matter. It gets muddy. ]

Then some day you will.

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