Isaac Mendez (
opiate_visions) wrote in
umbrellajackassery2019-03-29 11:15 am
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tact from me is like blood from a stone
Isaac's birthday had been registered as the 17th of September, two weeks to the day before those children were born from mothers who weren't pregnant, the miracle children who were forgotten again until the unveiling of the Umbrella Academy.
Isaac had never learned much about it all. He'd lived somewhat sheltered from that part of the world and by the time he was old enough to explore on his own, the Umbrella Academy had come and gone and he was more interested in his own life and future.
But the blackouts became more frequent and the medication didn't help. He stopped taking the medication and it got more out of control, but he had found other ways to control it and by the time he was thirty, he was out of rehab (again) and didn't know what to do or where to go to learn about what he was.
So he used the last of his money to make his way to the old address of the Umbrella Academy and hoped someone there might be able to help.
He was raising his hand to knock on the door when he saw the flicker, a momentary glimpse and he stepped back enough that whoever was coming to the door wouldn't barrel into him...
Isaac had never learned much about it all. He'd lived somewhat sheltered from that part of the world and by the time he was old enough to explore on his own, the Umbrella Academy had come and gone and he was more interested in his own life and future.
But the blackouts became more frequent and the medication didn't help. He stopped taking the medication and it got more out of control, but he had found other ways to control it and by the time he was thirty, he was out of rehab (again) and didn't know what to do or where to go to learn about what he was.
So he used the last of his money to make his way to the old address of the Umbrella Academy and hoped someone there might be able to help.
He was raising his hand to knock on the door when he saw the flicker, a momentary glimpse and he stepped back enough that whoever was coming to the door wouldn't barrel into him...
no subject
"Wait, what, my back?"
That's a bit confusing, and if Klaus isn't reading things wrong, maybe a little kinky? Just a little. Smirking, he turns to look at Isaac.
"Not sure how I feel about a portrait of me on my own back. Seems a little uh, narcissistic, right?"
no subject
And then he laughs. "Well, I was more thinking it might be nice to just draw on your back in general, but wherever you're comfortable works for sketching you. Though, have to say, I know people who have tattoos of themselves on them and yeah, it's narcissistic."
no subject
"Yeah no thanks. No drawings of myself on my back, thanks." A pause, and then, "I have a tiger on my back already. You wanna see?"
It's curious, idle. If Isaac appreciates art, he might appreciate that.
"And uh, you're the artist. Draw what you want?"
no subject
No promises to what. Maybe a wall. Paper. Klaus. Something.