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My name is Elle Kammeo. I love to paint the members of the Rogues Gallery. Want to know anything about my line of work, or me personally? Just ask, and I will answer all questions.
Face Claim: Chibi.
Elle also has a Rule 63 counterpart named Erno, if you are inclined to meet him.
Erno's face claim: Jensen Ackles.
This blog is multi-ship friendly. All romances are in their respective alternate universe.
-This is a DCU Indie blog.
-I will RP with multiple fandom roleplayers.
-I track the tags rogueartistofgotham and Elle Kammeo.
-I will do NSFW roleplays. Please refer to my NSFW page for details.
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Elle sat in her small Gotham studio sketching ideas for a new painting. She sighed audibly while looking for inspiration out of the open window. Another gallery had rejected her art because of conflicting interests. Sure, she had her own gallery, but what’s the point if she couldn’t spread her artistic voice all over the city. The young woman paused in her thinking just once to brush a piece of hair out of her face.
“I really need something interesting to happen. It’s too mundane for Gotham tonight.”
If she’d tracked correctly, then the person May was looking for was here. She’d certainly heard things about some rather curious artwork, and it was something to look into, for sure. However, the proprietor had not been in the gallery, so intel had led her here.
She knocked gingerly, leaning against the door to listen for anyone inside.
Elle walked to the door. She wondered who could be here at this time of night. “Coming!” she called out, letting her visitor know she was on her way. Once arriving at the door, she peered out just for a second and opened it.
“Hello. Won’t you please come inside?” The young woman showed her guest in and shut the door. “What brings you here this time of night? Please, have a seat. Is there anything I can get for you to drink?”
“No, that’s fine,” May waved off the other woman’s offer, instead electing to get right into her purpose as she sat. She didn’t bother confirming the identity, as a cursory look around the place spoke for itself. “So I assume you’ve been around town a bit the past couple of days. You’re hard to catch.” With a wry half-smile, she added, “I’ve heard about your work, and I wanted to get a little more insight. On behalf of the subjects, let’s say.”
“Ah yes, my work,” Elle said as she sat in the chair across from her guest,”I make paintings and prints of Gotham’s most infamous residents, as you already know. You’re wondering why I immortalize them. The answer is that they intrigue me very much. My reference materials usually comes from seeing them in action and pictures of them in the paper. I never try to meddle in their personal affairs at all, because unlike most of Gotham’s residents, I see them as people instead of as scum.” Pulling a bottle of water out of the pocket of her hoodie, she took a sip and awaited her visitor’s thoughts on the matter.
“Hm,” May nodded, intrigued. “It’s good to know you think of us that way.” She grinned impishly and raised an eyebrow, as if to say Yes, I said us. “Granted, I’m not so well-known as others, but if you run in the right crowds, you know. I have certain alliances.” It was a question that needed answered before it was even asked. Continuing, she folded her hands expectantly. “So do you have any particular favorite subjects? Likewise, any you avoid? I’d love to know more about what drives you to observe the… rogues so closely, what about us inspires you.”
Elle smiled. “I really love to paint The Riddler. I think with him that it’s the mysterious aura that surrounds him. I generally don’t paint Catwoman, however, because I had a bad run in with her a few years ago.” She paused for a few seconds and moved a curtain of black hair away from her left eye, revealing a scar from the encounter. “What intrigues me about all of you is your defiance of society’s standards. It inspires me to use my artistic voice no matter what society may say about my views and subjects.”
May nodded tersely at the revelation of the scar. “Understandable,” she agreed. “Really though, the best art usually is a critique of society’s standards, isn’t it?” She suppressed the urge to ask a little more around the Riddler fascination (it wasn’t relevant, better to get the relevant stuff done first) or her thoughts on other rogues (she feared that an artist might judge Ozzie even more than most).
“In any case,” she continued, “I’d like to get a little more insight - see some of your work, understand more of your motive and process - but I may have an offer for you. I have an idea of how to… expand your market.”
Her eyebrows raised at hearing ‘expand your market.’ Elle stood. “Come with me, please. I shall show you my studio. My motive is to make my life more interesting while still doing my favorite thing in life. Also I do this to make a statement about the Rogues and myself: We are here, and you cannot hide us. You can lock us away, but you cannot forget us.” She led her guest upstairs to her studio. “Here, I have a few finished pieces, and a few in process pieces. Please enjoy.”
Elle sat in her small Gotham studio sketching ideas for a new painting. She sighed audibly while looking for inspiration out of the open window. Another gallery had rejected her art because of conflicting interests. Sure, she had her own gallery, but what’s the point if she couldn’t spread her artistic voice all over the city. The young woman paused in her thinking just once to brush a piece of hair out of her face.
“I really need something interesting to happen. It’s too mundane for Gotham tonight.”
If she’d tracked correctly, then the person May was looking for was here. She’d certainly heard things about some rather curious artwork, and it was something to look into, for sure. However, the proprietor had not been in the gallery, so intel had led her here.
She knocked gingerly, leaning against the door to listen for anyone inside.
Elle walked to the door. She wondered who could be here at this time of night. “Coming!” she called out, letting her visitor know she was on her way. Once arriving at the door, she peered out just for a second and opened it.
“Hello. Won’t you please come inside?” The young woman showed her guest in and shut the door. “What brings you here this time of night? Please, have a seat. Is there anything I can get for you to drink?”
“No, that’s fine,” May waved off the other woman’s offer, instead electing to get right into her purpose as she sat. She didn’t bother confirming the identity, as a cursory look around the place spoke for itself. “So I assume you’ve been around town a bit the past couple of days. You’re hard to catch.” With a wry half-smile, she added, “I’ve heard about your work, and I wanted to get a little more insight. On behalf of the subjects, let’s say.”
“Ah yes, my work,” Elle said as she sat in the chair across from her guest,”I make paintings and prints of Gotham’s most infamous residents, as you already know. You’re wondering why I immortalize them. The answer is that they intrigue me very much. My reference materials usually comes from seeing them in action and pictures of them in the paper. I never try to meddle in their personal affairs at all, because unlike most of Gotham’s residents, I see them as people instead of as scum.” Pulling a bottle of water out of the pocket of her hoodie, she took a sip and awaited her visitor’s thoughts on the matter.
“Hm,” May nodded, intrigued. “It’s good to know you think of us that way.” She grinned impishly and raised an eyebrow, as if to say Yes, I said us. “Granted, I’m not so well-known as others, but if you run in the right crowds, you know. I have certain alliances.” It was a question that needed answered before it was even asked. Continuing, she folded her hands expectantly. “So do you have any particular favorite subjects? Likewise, any you avoid? I’d love to know more about what drives you to observe the… rogues so closely, what about us inspires you.”
Elle smiled. “I really love to paint The Riddler. I think with him that it’s the mysterious aura that surrounds him. I generally don’t paint Catwoman, however, because I had a bad run in with her a few years ago.” She paused for a few seconds and moved a curtain of black hair away from her left eye, revealing a scar from the encounter. “What intrigues me about all of you is your defiance of society’s standards. It inspires me to use my artistic voice no matter what society may say about my views and subjects.”
Elle sat in her small Gotham studio sketching ideas for a new painting. She sighed audibly while looking for inspiration out of the open window. Another gallery had rejected her art because of conflicting interests. Sure, she had her own gallery, but what’s the point if she couldn’t spread her artistic voice all over the city. The young woman paused in her thinking just once to brush a piece of hair out of her face.
“I really need something interesting to happen. It’s too mundane for Gotham tonight.”
If she’d tracked correctly, then the person May was looking for was here. She’d certainly heard things about some rather curious artwork, and it was something to look into, for sure. However, the proprietor had not been in the gallery, so intel had led her here.
She knocked gingerly, leaning against the door to listen for anyone inside.
Elle walked to the door. She wondered who could be here at this time of night. “Coming!” she called out, letting her visitor know she was on her way. Once arriving at the door, she peered out just for a second and opened it.
“Hello. Won’t you please come inside?” The young woman showed her guest in and shut the door. “What brings you here this time of night? Please, have a seat. Is there anything I can get for you to drink?”
“No, that’s fine,” May waved off the other woman’s offer, instead electing to get right into her purpose as she sat. She didn’t bother confirming the identity, as a cursory look around the place spoke for itself. “So I assume you’ve been around town a bit the past couple of days. You’re hard to catch.” With a wry half-smile, she added, “I’ve heard about your work, and I wanted to get a little more insight. On behalf of the subjects, let’s say.”
“Ah yes, my work,” Elle said as she sat in the chair across from her guest,”I make paintings and prints of Gotham’s most infamous residents, as you already know. You’re wondering why I immortalize them. The answer is that they intrigue me very much. My reference materials usually comes from seeing them in action and pictures of them in the paper. I never try to meddle in their personal affairs at all, because unlike most of Gotham’s residents, I see them as people instead of as scum.” Pulling a bottle of water out of the pocket of her hoodie, she took a sip and awaited her visitor’s thoughts on the matter.
Elle sat in her small Gotham studio sketching ideas for a new painting. She sighed audibly while looking for inspiration out of the open window. Another gallery had rejected her art because of conflicting interests. Sure, she had her own gallery, but what’s the point if she couldn’t spread her artistic voice all over the city. The young woman paused in her thinking just once to brush a piece of hair out of her face.
“I really need something interesting to happen. It’s too mundane for Gotham tonight.”
If she’d tracked correctly, then the person May was looking for was here. She’d certainly heard things about some rather curious artwork, and it was something to look into, for sure. However, the proprietor had not been in the gallery, so intel had led her here.
She knocked gingerly, leaning against the door to listen for anyone inside.
Elle walked to the door. She wondered who could be here at this time of night. “Coming!” she called out, letting her visitor know she was on her way. Once arriving at the door, she peered out just for a second and opened it.
“Hello. Won’t you please come inside?” The young woman showed her guest in and shut the door. “What brings you here this time of night? Please, have a seat. Is there anything I can get for you to drink?”
Elle sat in her small Gotham studio sketching ideas for a new painting. She sighed audibly while looking for inspiration out of the open window. Another gallery had rejected her art because of conflicting interests. Sure, she had her own gallery, but what’s the point if she couldn’t spread her artistic voice all over the city. The young woman paused in her thinking just once to brush a piece of hair out of her face.
“I really need something interesting to happen. It’s too mundane for Gotham tonight.”