Opening Thread

Diana was really hoping to finish that sunny perspective of the boardwalk today, but of course, it's raining again. It figures.

So, slightly discouraged but far from disheartened, she pulls out a block of clay and begins the process of finding what's hidden inside.

It's well into the afternoon and after only stopping for a quick bite to eat, there are signs that this block of clay may contain a figure. The rain however, shows no signs of letting up anytime soon.

Diana has just stepped back to appraise the angle when there is a knock on her door.

Diana tucks a straying strand of hair back behind her left ear and frowns. Her friends generally didn't leave their work to go visiting until at least dinnertime. "Coming!" she calls out.

She picks up a cloth and wipes damp clay and wet slip from her hands as she walks out of her studio and into the hallway that runs the length of her spacious apartment. The front door is only a dozen feet down the hall to the left, and she reaches it quickly. She drops the cloth in a convenient trash can and opens the door. "Hello?"

Leaning against the door jam is a familiar redhead. "Hello to you too, beautiful." Bleys grins that infectious grin.

The collar of his dark overcoat is turned up but there's not a drop of rain on him, nor is there a hair out of place.

"May I come in?" he asks.

Diana can't help but grin in return. "Of course! Come in, come in." She pushes the door open wide and steps back out of the entrance to give him room. Diana, in stark contrast to her visitor, looks like one might expect a working artist to look: hair tied back except for the strands of hair straying loose around her face, a shirt that can only be called red still because the back isn't completely covered in paint, jeans that might be mistaken for a sample of a line of designer clothes from Jackson Pollack, and a pair of worn tennis shoes.

"I'd offer to take your coat, but I'm storing some canvases in the closet right now," she continues once Bleys comes inside. "So I'll have to just offer you a drink. Would you like one?" She gestures down the hall towards the living room and kitchen.

Bleys flashes another quick and ready smile as he passes on his way into the living room.

"I would love a Harvey Wallbanger." he replies as he drapes his coat neatly over the back of a chair.

"I hope I haven't come at an inopportunte time." he calls back up the hall.

"Not at all, and can do, only not in that order," Diana replies as she enters the room and heads for the bar, which is set along the far wall under a metal sculpture of a trio of butterflies in flight.

As she mixes the drink, she continues, "The rain put off my plans for the day, unfortunately. I was just kicking around the studio and doing some clay work." She finishes mixing the drink with a practiced air and brings it to Bleys.

Bleys gives a nod of approval as he takes his first sip. "Excellent, as always." he compliments.

"Ya' know," he begins. "Sometimes I enjoy the rain." It's clear there is something on his mind.

"I like the rain," Diana agrees, "but it's tough to finish a work of a sunny day when it's pouring. I had so hoped to finish that painting today."

She settles down on one end of her well-worn black leather couch and looks up at him. "It's a pleasant surprise to see you, of course, but I'm curious." She smiles. "So, what brings you out my direction today?"

He chuckles and glances down at the drink in his hand. "Well," he begins as he looks back up at you and meets your eyes with his.

"Do you remember when I told you about there being more to the art than just the strokes on the canvas?" he asks.

"Yes," she replies, pauses, and adds, "Of course." She holds his gaze and leans forward intently. "Why?"

"And of course you remember the pattern on the floor." He says almost dismissively. "But do you remember the promise I made?" Bleys inquires, his eyes still meeting yours.

Diana leans back against the sofa and considers, her brow furrowing. "I remember that you made one..." she finally says. "But I'm afraid I don't remember what it was."

He smiles. A gentle and comforting expression. "I'm not surprised." he begins. "I promised to tell you about your herritage. Are you interested?" Bleys asks.

"You know I've always wondered a bit," Diana responds immediately. "I told you so enough times." There's good-natured humor in her voice. "But first - do I need to get myself a drink?" She grins wryly. "I mean, should I brace myself for axe murderers or Puritans?"

Bleys takes a sip of his drink and replies simply. "Yes."

"Oh," Diana says. She stands, strolls the few feet to the bar, and surveys it. She neglected to put away the vodka after she finished Bleys's drink, so she shrugs a little and pours herself a glass. After all, it was already out.

She returns to her seat, cradling the glass carefully. "So. Tell me about my heritage," she requests.

"Well, I suppose an introduction would be a good start." he stands and bows saying, "Bleys Barrimen, at your service."

He sits again. "Or Uncle Bleys, if you prefer" he says then takes a drink.

"'Uncle'?" Diana says quizzically. "Wait, how do you know you're my uncle?"

Bleys smiles warmly again. "Because I am your mother's brother. Shall I continue?" he asks with a touch of faux sarcasm.

Diana doesn't bother to disguise her good-natured eye roll. "Of course." She takes a small sip of her vodka, smiling. "Do go on."

The drama is not lost on Bleys who inclines his head briefly and replies, "Thankyouverymuch." he smiles as well.

"Well, lets start at the beginning, shall we?" he remarks rhetorically.

"It all started with your great grandpa, Dworkin Barrimen." he stops and frowns thoughtfully for a moment. "No. There is too much, let me sum up." Bleys takes a drink and clears his throat and begins again.

"Your great grandpa was ready for a change. He left the place he had grown up, called the Courts of Chaos, and built his own kingdom, called Amber. "

"My dad, that's your grandpa, Oberon was born there and he grew up to be King." he pauses to collect his thoughts.

"Now, we Barrimen's live for a very long time. Because of this, well partly anyway, Oberon had several wives and many children. 17 we know about."

He takes a breath and pushes ahead.

"The order from oldest to youngest goes like this - Osric, Finndo, Benedict, Eric, Corwin, Dierdre, Fiona, me, Brand, Florimel, Caine, Julian, Gerard, Sand, Delwin, Llewella, and Random." Bleys gives a rather dramatic sigh as he finishes the litany then finishes his drink.

Diana stares at him for about the count of twenty. In fact, it wouldn't be unreasonable to suspect she actually *was* counting - were it not for the slightly dumbfounded look on her face.

Then she finishes off her vodka in one smooth gulp.

Bleys nods. "Yup. That about sums it up." he replies grinning. "There's more, but I want to give you a chance to absorb this first. Ask a question or two if you've got 'em." he says helpfully.

Diana laughs softly. "If you let me, I'll ask questions incessantly again. I do have one quick one, though. You said a minute ago that you're my mother's brother - which one is she? Or did that part go along with your mock sarcasm?"

Bleys grins. "Caught that did you?" he chuckles. "No, I am your uncle." He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a deck of cards. He has shown you the cards before. Bleys shuffles through and pulls out the card of a woman with long black hair and penetrating blue eyes. Her complexion is fair, not pale or pasty. She is wearing a long white gown that contrasts her dark hair.

Bleys hands you the card. "This is your mother, Dierdre." he offers.

Diana takes it and studies the image carefully - and briefly, and without *using* the card. Something about surprising one's mother with a call when you don't actually know her doesn't appeal quite yet.

"So what is she like, then?" she asks curiously, handing back the card with all the reverence due to a piece of art.

Bleys glances down at the empty glass before responding. "She was like you in some ways. Practical, passionate and a wonderful sense of humor." he pauses again.

"But she was a warrior. A spirited fighter." Bleys gives a short sigh then continues.

"I'm afraid no one has seen or heard from her in quite a while." he offers.

"How long is 'quite a while'?" Diana asks. "I mean, it's got to be tough to keep in touch regularly..."

Bleys nods in agreement. "True. But your mother and I would talk regularly. I haven't heard from her in over ten years. The last thing she said to me was, Take good care of her."

Bleys watches for your reaction.

"Oh," Diana replies in a quiet voice. She's wearing an unusually serious expression now, almost troubled.

"I..." she starts, and then hesitates for a while. "I don't quite know what to do with this picture. Tell me about something else for a while?"

"Sure." he replies. "Anything in particular or should I just pick a topic?" Bleys asks.

"Anything you want." She half-smiles. "I just need to come away from the topic of my mother for a while."

"Alright." Bleys nods.

He stands and takes your glass then moves to where you keep your alcohol and returns with two tall glasses filled with what looks like orange juice. Bleys hands one to you then reclaims his seat.

"Let's talk about your special skills." he begins.

"First, your art. Have you noticed that since I gave you those lessons, your art feels more real?" he asks.

Diana takes a careful sip of her drink before she speaks. "Of course; I always notice when my work changes." The last is said with complete confidence - and maybe just a touch of ego. "Why?"

The drink is what it looks like, a screwdriver, perfectly mixed of course.

"Let me show you." Bleys says as he reaches for his cards again. He pulls out one that shows a sparkling and magnificent city in the clouds.

"Now watch." he commands. And as he holds the card up, the image becomes real. The clouds drift past as if the card was a window. The depth is almost overwhelming because you're aware of not only the distance to the buildings, but also of the height from the ground.

As he gives you this demonstration, several things click into place and begin to make perfect sense.

"This is called a Trump card. You have the ability to create them." Bleys states, and you know it to be true.

He - or rather, the card - has her rapt attention for several minutes. When she's looked her fill, finally, she sits back and asks another question. "So, what are the rules? Can I make a Trump," she hesitates over the word, testing the sound of it, "of anywhere?"

Bleys nods. "Anywhere you've been. And people too. Though with people, you need more of a persoanl connection." he replies.

"'More of a personal connection'?" she says quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Because, in general, people ar more complex than say, your living room," Bleys begins and sweeps his hand from one side to the other to indicate the room you're in.

"They require more from the artist to become a real connection. Does this make sense?" he asks sounding a touch unsure, himself.

Diana grins and nods vigorously. "I get it. Like KaChi's sonar paintings - the ocean floor ones are a hundred times more difficult than the series she did of the hulls of great liners. Or at least that's what she told me."

"Good." Bleys smiles at your enthusiasim and understanding. "Now let me show you how to make one work." he shuffles through the deck and pulls out a card of himself.

Handing the card to Diana, Bleys climbs out of the seat. "Ok. I'm going to go to another room. You concentrate on me. Focus on the image of me on the card. After a few seconds, the card will grow cold and a little tingly and from there, you will be able to talk to me as if I was sitting right next to you." Bleys explains.

"Ready?" he asks as he heads toward the hall way leading towad the back of the apartment.

"I think so," Diana replies. She watches and waits for him to turn off the hallway.

Once he does, she looks down at the card. It's the art she concentrates on first, unsurprisingly, but eventually she gets around to focusing on Bleys.

She has seen his work before. It's very fluid with vibrant color and just the right amount of shading.

When she settles her mind on her uncle, the card does indeed grow chill and just a little tingly between her fingers.

The tingling also begins at the back of her mind. When this happens the card changes before Diana's eyes. It shows Bleys sitting on the edge of her bed. He speaks softly. ~So, what do you think?~ he asks.

~Besides that if I'd known someone was going to be in my bedroom for reasons other than the usual ones, I'd have made the bed this morning?~ Diana replies with a grin more insolent than rueful.

She sobers quickly. ~I - It's different. How long a distance does it work? I mean, do you have to pay long-distance charges in headaches or eyestrain or something? And,~ she hesitantly lifts a hand and reaches out as though to touch a surface in front of her, ~is there any sort of wall between us, or can I actually reach out and touch you like it kind of looks like I could?~

~Go ahead.~ Bleys answers the last question first, he reaches out his hand.

Diana continues her hand motion with more assurance, reaching out and clasping his hand. He said it was okay to try it, after all.

Bleys closes his hand around hers.

~Good.~ Still speaking in her head. ~Now stand up, don't let go of my hand, and step to me.~ he instructs.

Diana eyes him somewhat dubiously before she stands. Her brain is full of vague questions about what's going to happen to the card if she ends up in the bedroom with him - including the thought that maybe it turns inside out, which now that she thinks of it, would make a fascinating painting. Although she suspects Escher has already done it. Not that he was much on color.

She takes a hesitant step towards Bleys.

Bleys smiles wide.

As you take the hesitant step, ~Don't worry about the card, it will be in your hand. Now come on, step into the bedroom." he coaxes.

Diana gives him half a smile in return and continues her forwards movement. ~So how do you know I was worried about the card?~ she asks curiously.

Diana steps through into her bedroom. As she passes through there is a brief tingling sensation and a small rainbow ripple in the air around her.

Bleys is still smiling. ~Very good. You are an excellent student.~ Then he switches to verbal.

"While in Trump cotact like we just were, not only can you talk with one another, but you can hear some of the other person's thoughts. If the other person isn't guarding them, of course." Bleys explains.

"Oh," she says bemusedly. "So *do* you think Escher's done it yet?" She grins and winks at Bleys, sinking down on the edge of the bed next to him. "Never mind. I can ask Tamma; she's an aficionado. So what else can these Trumps do?"

Bleys gives a small shrug in reply to your first question. "Heh. Let's not get carried away on the first day. Suffice it to say there will be opportunity to learn more." he replies.

"Mmph," Diana replies, slightly dissatisifed. "So what else? You said these," she hands him the Trump, "were the first thing." She looks at him expectantly.

His eyes twinkle as he smiles. "Are you up for a road trip?" Bleys asks.

"Well," she replies, stretching out the word. "I *had* planned to go visit Mary and Percy tonight... I hear they have a new batch of absinthe ready to go." She grins cheerfully and stands. "But that'll keep. Is there anything I might need besides the essentials?" The 'essentials,' in this case, are a thick, sturdily-bound sketchbook, a pencil sharpener, erasers, and pencils (colored and black) - the same kit Diana carries virtually any time she leaves her apartment.

"You wont have time for that." he replies.

Bleys stands and moves to the bedroom door. "But if it will make you feel more comfortable, bring *just* the essentials." Bleys then leaves the room, heading for the living room.

<Won't have time for *what*?> Diana wonders, puzzled. She shrugs and collects her satchel from beside the bed, settling cross-legged on the floor just long enough to check that everything she expects to be in the bag is there.

With nothing missing, she swings the satchel over her shoulder and settles it on her back. Then she follows Bleys down the hall.

Bleys is standing by the front entry way, he flashes you a quick smile as you come up the hall.

"First things first." he begins. "Could you do something about this rain?" his tone indicates it was a rhetorical question, but at the same time he is sincere.

"I thought you said you liked the rain sometimes," Diana replies with a teasing grin. "What do you have in mind? Overcast? The sun?"

"Sometimes." he affirms. "But now we need good traveling weather." Bleys instructs.

"So... what? Wish away the rain?" she asks.

"That's right. But you have to really concentrate on it." he replies.

"How? I mean, do I stare out the window and wave my arms and say, 'rain, rain, go away'?" Diana grins wryly. "Well, I guess that's not actually concentrating. Hmm." She cocks her head and eyes the ceiling and thinks, as hard as she can, <Stop raining.>

And it does.

Bleys smiles and pats Diana on the shoulder. "Good. Now lets move on to bigger and better, shall we." he suggests.

He opens the door and steps outside, moving off the steps to give you room to exit.

Diana follows him out the door, locking the door behind her. "So," she says over her shoulder as she leads the way downstairs to the street, taking the stairs two at a time, "is that why you weren't as wet as you should have been when I opened the door?"

Bleys gives you a grin. "Caught that did ya?" he responds. "Good, yeah it's along those lines."

Bleys follows suit and bounces down the stairs falling into step with Diana. "Let's head toward the river." he suggests.

"Sounds good." Diana turns left and heads down the Rue de la Paix, towards the Louvre, le Jardin des Tuileries, and the Seine. The streets are generally active but not crowded at this time of day, as the non-Artists take care of errands and a handful of Artists venture out to resupply during daylight hours.

She waves to the butcher downstairs as they pass, and asks, "So what are these 'bigger things,' then?"

Bleys gives a nod of his head, "See that line of trees up ahead, the yearling oaks. As we walk, concentrate on making them grow." he instructs.

She brings to mind a certain elder oak in the garden of a friend; to this she compares the younger trees, with an eye to pattern instead of detail. <You need to spread your branches *this* way,> she thinks at them. <And you need to be thick-trunked, and so should your roots. And your leaves need to be larger.>

The trees do indeed, one by one, begin to grow thicker and taller. By the time you reach them, they are fully grown.

"Good." Bleys comments. "How do you feel?" he asks.

Diana smiles. "This is kind of like re-working a painting, isn't it? I mean, if you want those trees to be bigger on canvas, you take a flat brush and you trace the trunk and the branches again until they're larger, or you disguise branches that are too low as background trees, and you rework the leaves. Or to make rain go away, you straighten the lines and brighten the colors. And painting," she says firmly, "is no effort at all - so to answer your question, I feel absolutely fine."

"Very good." Bleys acknowledges. "Now change those flowers, the ones in the basket, cange them to lillies. At the same time, change the sidewalk to curve left toward the river instead of right." he instructs.

Carefully, Diana draws the picture of the left-curving road and the lilies in her mind - and just because she's feeling mischievious and fairly confident, she insists on tiger lilies of slightly larger than average size. Then she overlays the image over what she sees and asks the world to match with it.

This was a little more difficult than she had anticipated, but she manages to pull it off with just a bit more effort.

Bleys arches an eyebrow. "Nice touch." he comments on seeing the tiger lillies. "Ok now we try something bigger."

"I want you to change the landscape drastically. I'm talking a hill or two, no river, purple grass, red sky, that sort of thing. Ready, go." he instructs.

Diana grins briefly at the praise. Then she turns her attention to the world again and concentrates on getting rid of the river - first erasing the parts she can see a distance ahead, and then the parts she knows are there.

"Good." Bleys comments as the river fades. "Make the changes faster now." Bleys commands.

"But first," Diana replies firmly, "I want to ask another question." She veers towards a side street, where she is determined there *will* be a cafe with sidewalk seating. "So we have the time to sit down for a minute and talk, right?"

Bleys stops and blinks once, opens his mouth to say something but changes his mind, instead he falls into step beside Diana.

Bleys takes a seat near the edge. "We have about two minutes before this," he waves his hand to indicate the cafe and everything around it. " Before this begins to fold in on it's self." he warns.

Diana looks at him, gives a few blinks of her own, and says, "What?" She perches on the edge of her seat. "Keeping in mind that this is *not* the question I was going to ask, what do you mean 'we have about two minutes before this begins to fold in on it's self'?"

"We don't have time for the proper explanation," he begins. "So suffice it to say, the reality here is not stable. Ask your question." Bleys replies putting emphasis on the command at the end.

"Okay," Diana agrees, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. "So why do I not remember ever meeting Her? I mean, from what you said, She knew you knew where I was, so..." Her shoulders slump. "I hope I'm making sense. Now that I'm asking, I'm not quite sure how to ask the question anymore."

Bleys blinks twice before responding. "If you are referring to your mother, that answer is also long and complex. When we get to our destination I can elaborate if you really want to know, but right now, we really should be moving on." he answers.

As if to punctuate his point, in the distance and growing closer is a sound like fabric tearing and glass breaking.

"I kind of thought you'd say that." Diana sighs and looks towards the approaching sound with exasperation written all over her face - in very large letters. "Promise you'll answer my questions later? Just because I had to leave the topic earlier doesn't mean I don't want to know more about my mother, and I don't want to follow you around asking the same questions over and over again until you tell me." She gives him a wry smile and stands.

Your uncle stands and places a calm hand on your shoulder. "Trust me Diana, I don't want you following me around asking the same questions over and over, either." he says with a large grin.

"Now, I suggest you finish what you started." he instructs. "Quickly." he adds.

Diana grins and nods. "Let's go."

She leads the way back to the main street, wondering a little if it's still the street she lives on or not. Then she throws herself back into changing big things, pressing the hills and the red sky Bleys suggested earlier onto the world.

Bleys makes noises of approval as you manipulate the landscape. You finally reach the point of having all the changes that Bleys had suggested. It's like being in one of those abstract works from the gallery.

At this point, Diana is feeling the strain. She could use a break.

"Well done." Bleys compliments. "What you have just done is called, *shifting shadow* or *walking through shadow*. This was all possible because of the night you followed that pattern on the floor." he explains.

"You ready to move on, or do you need a few minutes?" he asks.

"Hmm..." Diana replies, and pauses. She looks around for a moment or two before spying a bench on the sidewalk a little ways ahead. "Let's go sit down over there. A rest would be nice, and I think I have a good view of the street from there." She takes a step or two in that direction, hesitates, and adds, "This place is stable, right?"

She knows the answer before she finishes the question. She can just feel the difference.

"Of course." Bleys nods. "Can't you tell yourself?" he asks.

"Like all useful things to know," Diana replies ruefully, "I knew the answer as soon as I started asking the question." She continues on towards the bench. "So while I'm taking a break, I want to sketch the street; it won't take *too* long, since I mostly just need to block in shapes and the colors, because this is enough like Montmarte that I can make up the rest when I get home. But that means you have time to talk, since I'll have time to listen." She grins and winks at him. "So, what are you going to talk about?"

On to the next thread, The Road Home.

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