All these Buildings & Mountains... - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: All these Buildings & Mountains... (/showthread.php?tid=5826) |
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- Mati Church - 04-25-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 04-30-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... /hoban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Honoré was a sophisticated man. He considered himself to be a very important being; far too important to lead a primitive lifestyle like most canines. He did not hunt prey nor sleep outside like the average wolf. Instead of doing all of those things, the five-year-old often opted for simpler alternatives. He slept in a bed dotted with a therapeutic mattress, something he’d found in the city. Catching meals also required too much effort; hence why he did not hunt. The Québécois actually preferred canned goods from abandoned grocery stores. Needless to say, he considered Halifax to be a sacred place. The Tenens was on his way back from the food store; he’d found a few cans of tuna and some beef jerky. Not the tastiest stuff out there but it would keep hunger at bay for a day or two. The trek from Halifax to Phoenix Valley did not take very long. He was about halfway there when he stumbled upon a young girl, a pretty little thing with stunning blue eyes and… a tube in her mouth. It was only when he glanced down at the other tubes that he finally understood what was in there. Paint. "Eille! Don’t do that,” he warned, eyes of metallic bronze widening exaggeratedly. "You don’t…no, eating paint is no good! Spit out! Go-go!” - Mati Church - 04-30-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 05-04-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... /hoban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Honoré had a terrible habit of overreacting. He was a dramatist. And obviously, getting a reaction out of people was his life’s mission. It was a very effective way to get noticed, and he craved every little bit of attention he could get. His personality alone would often make people stop and stare, but not for the right reasons. The Québécois realized this. However, controlling his outbursts wasn’t an easy thing to do. His mouth clamped shut as the young girl struggled to free herself from the paint tube. It seemed the adolescent was a little surprised to see him, and she had every right to be. Honoré didn’t know how to rectify the situation, so he watched with concealed amusement as the lavender-eyed femme tried to justify her actions. “Oh,” he said, now understanding why the tube had been in her mouth. The five-year-old lowered himself to the floor and reached out to grab the container she hadn’t been able to open. He gave the chewed-up cap a good twist and handed it over. “There,” A bright yellow hue threatened to leak out of its confinement. It was a pretty color indeed. It reminded him of chickadees. “Gentle, don’t squeeze a lot. Okay?” he explained, making obvious efforts to keep his voice low and steady. - Mati Church - 05-09-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 05-14-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... /hoban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Cadmium yellow. Honoré nodded slowly, although he didn’t quite understand what cadmium was. Was it some kind of food? He was perplexed; torn between asking for a definition and pretending to know what it was. She was much younger than he was, and she already knew fancy words like “cadmium”. One word was all it took to wound his ego. The Tenens kept quiet, refusing to make any comment pertaining to the word she’d just said. That way, he looked smarter. His attention promptly returned to the tube in her hand, and the bright colored paint that threatened to ooze out. He too, became nervous after a few seconds. Hazel-hued eyes glanced down at his green-colored palms. Honoré knew from experience what happened when paint came in contact with fur; he’d found out the hard way. His mossy-looking hands were proof enough. They were passing the paint tube around like a hot potato. Now it was in Honoré’s possession again. He didn’t mind, really. A little yellow to go compliment his green tainted pelt wouldn’t hurt; and it would fade with time. “Don’t know how to paint?” he asked, lowering his backpack to the floor and setting the tube down temporarily. He always carried some paintbrushes with him. Maybe she needed some. Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out soft-grip angle paintbrush and offered it to her. “It’s good paintbrush. You can use if you want. I’m cool teacher.” - Mati Church - 05-17-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 05-22-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... /hoban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Her clumsiness made a bit more sense now that she’d provided an answer to his question. So she didn’t know how to paint. He smiled then, remembering how much fun he’d had teaching Asariel. He was willing to repeat the process, this time with the lavender-eyed cutie. While he had no specific knowledge of true art, Honoré was good with a paintbrush. It was something he’d taught himself on his spare time, with the use of a few human books. He very rarely worked on canvas, preferring less... conventional surfaces. Birdhouses were a good example. "Me paint houses for birds alot." Shading and texturing were his forte, but he knew enough to teach her the basics if she truly wanted to learn. “Ok first, I am Honoré.” he said, pointing to himself. “And you?” His student’s name would be a way to start today’s session. Hazel-colored eyes moved to the pile of art supplies. Basic knowledge on how to use paintbrushes was a good start and from what he could see, she’d gathered a few from the city. He picked three of them up; all of them had different shapes and purposes. The first one was a fan brush with silky short bristles. He held it up for a moment, indicating its function. “This is fan brush. It is for blending colors, yah?” The second one was a flat brush, designed for broader strokes. And the third one was a round paintbrush, the kind most artists used. Honoré explained all of their particularities in very simple terms, stopping at the end to make sure the girl understood. “Understand?” - Mati Church - 05-23-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 06-01-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... /hoban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Honoré rarely warmed up to people and in all honesty, he really didn’t like kids. But the lavender-eyed angel gave him no choice. She had a wonderful personality; it was impossible not to find her adorable! Mati Church was her name, and the Québécois was lucky enough to have her as his new pupil. Her interest in art was genuine, and her desire to learn new things pleased him. Ambitions weren’t everything though; innate talent made things much easier. And they were about to find out whether she’d been blessed with an artistic soul or not. Honoré assumed she was. The way she studied the different hues told him so. When she nodded her comprehension and countered with a very pertinent question, the five-year-old male could only smile. What a smart cookie she was. He had wanted to teach her most of the basics before giving a demonstration, but that idea was quickly dropped. “Ok I show,” he said, taking the brush from her and moving over to the blank canvas. Turning to meet her gaze, he elaborated a little more before allowing her to practice. “We can try paint wheat field, maybe? So can use your Cadmium yellow, yes? Fan brush is good detailed stuffs too. Like grass, or wheat.” That being said, Honoré applied some yellow to the canvas, stippling the bright hue with short yet precise strokes. The paintbrush was set aside for a moment, just so he could reach for the palette in his satchel. “This, Mati, is a palette. You mix colors on it. We not have many colors but we can make some, so the field be more realistic. With more than one color, you know?” he said, mixing some red and yellow together. The result was a beige-cantaloupe color. “You go like this, very light strokes here and there.” he said, demonstrating on a very small portion of the wheat field. He turned then, handing both the palette and the paintbrush over. “Your turn.” - Mati Church - 06-02-2009 [html] http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa22 ... itable.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
He moved his had as if he held a feather, lightly dusting the paint against the rough canvas. His write motioned the yellow to move in the direction of its choosing, the wheat that he drove to create born by no action of nature but by the soft action of his hand. Her eyes didn’t leave the canvas, not until he moved away and placed the supplies in her hands. She was suddenly nervous, brush and palette in hand. The canvas sat before her and waited for her to try and meet the challenge its partly started face gave her.
Thinking back to his lesson Mati laid the brush lightly against the material, feeling the texture beneath the soft brush. It was like heaven, and the girl smiled at the relaxing motion. But she still needed to understand where and when to apply a different color. And as soon as she realized the problem, the solid blanket of dull yellow covering most of the canvas, she paused and looked back to him. More red?
table by Syd [/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 06-08-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... /hoban.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Mati’s insecurities were understandable; at least she'd had the common sense to ask questions before launching herself into the task at hand. His reply was a silent one; a smile was all he granted her before taking her hand into his. “Learn to trust yourself, yah?” he advised, guiding her hand through the blending process. He picked out the quantities of red and yellow needed to create that sandy-beige color, and then he brought her hand closer to the canvas. They applied the color together, Honoré acting as the main pilot for the first minute or so. He made sure to demonstrate the proper technique, how to flick the paintbrush back and forth in order to achieve the desired effect. Then he gradually loosened his grip on her little hand, removing his once she’d gained enough confidence to act on her own. The Québécois watched quietly for a few moments, evaluating her work and occasionally rectifying certain flaws. “Maybe you can come visit me to learn more sometimes?" he questioned, with a slight wag of his tail. Honoré sincerely hoped she’d accept his offer; he often got lonely when his little niece wasn’t around to keep him company. - Mati Church - 06-13-2009 [html] http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa22 ... itable.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> no worries, and thanks for being wiling to wrap this thread up. they should definitely paint again...!!
His gentle hand took hold of hers, and Mati allowed him to guild the brush along the textured canvas. Her eyes watched and her hand tried to remember the motions. She wanted to be good at this, to know and learn until it was as natural for her as it seemed for him. He moved with ease and experience, and if she wasn’t so enthralled with the different colors that developed as he painted Mati could have closed her eyes and just feel the brush fall sweetly against the canvas. The paint allowed to create what ever it wished.
He let her work for a few moments alone, sitting beside in silence. Breaking it only to show her where she had put too much paint in a certain place, or if she needed more yellow or a small amount of blue to shade it. It wasn’t criticism, for the words were not hard or angry, but soft and held a teachers tone. Firm, yet understanding. It wasn’t until he questioned her that she took her violet eyes from the canvas.
“I’d love that.” the girl spoke with a hushed excitement. She wondered what supplies he had there, and what other techniques he could show her. Pledging to practice and have something to show him when she sought him out next time.
table by Syd [/html] |