A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words (Pàxèn)

[Cio]

OoC: Here we gooo. :3

BiC:

'A picture is worth a thousand words.' Or, so they say. What does it matter to me? All I see before me are paintings done by amateurs and the only words that come to mind are those depicting dislike. Whatever happened to the days where the art on exhibit was more historical, ranging to hundreds and even thousands of years back? Psh, I don't know why I came.

The demon's footsteps rang solemnly throughout the art museum, the place being empty for the most part. It was late and night had fallen outside. She continued on, ready to move on to the next section of the exhibit. Immediately, she found herself in a hallway which was entirely desolate, save for one short man, baring a name tag on his chest.

Hurriedly, he ran up to her, waving his arms around slightly, “Hello, miss, you really must leave now. We're closing and-”

“I'll leave as soon as I see the next exhibit,” she snarled, recognizing him to be a human. “I'm almost done, anyway.”

“V-very well,” his voice quaked. “Is there anyone behind you? I need to know, you see... we've been having issues here at night. I can't allow anyone but myself to be in here. I've had to do so much as to change the closing time.”

Raising an eyebrow questioningly, Celia repeated, “'Issues'? What kind of... issues? And, I don't believe there was anyone behind me.” That was, of course, a lie. She'd seen several people behind her, but, this interested her. After a day of nothing but boredom, she considered now the perfect time to mess with humans and their pitiful worrying.

“Well, at night, there've been problems with the art... and, thank you for telling me. I can return post-haste,” he turned to run, obviously intimidated by the girls's glare, but she grabbed him by the collar.

Pulling him back, she brought him up to meet her face, “What 'problems'? I think that as a visitor of this museum, I have the right to know. Now, tell me. It might interest me for future occurrences.”

“F-fine!” he rose his hands, protectively, “The paintings seem to come to life! We're unsure what is causing it, but we think it might be some rogue mage out on the run! It's been happening for weeks and we're unsure as to why it keeps happening. Now, will you please leave?” Once she heard those words, she had a small smile plastered on her face, making the man tremble. “W-what?”

“Bye,” she whispered, whipping out her staff. “That's more than enough I need to know.” Taking her staff, she lunged it at him, hitting him upside the head and knocking him out. Bending down, she reached into his coat pocket, finding what she'd hoped for: a key. “Whoever is behind me will enjoy tonight.”