whistling static
#1
[html]
(335)

It took forever it seemed, at least for Robert, for things to calm down. But, finally the Artisans went back to the peaceful, steadfast and constant routines. He liked it better that way, when there was a lesser chance of something unpredictable happening. It allowed him to go about his business without an interruption as usual.

He had decided to go to Flanders Field that afternoon to compare what type of plant life was there compared to the southern fields. While they were both fields, nearly the same thing, the southern fields had a variety of flowers and otherwise a very diverse system. It made him curious why they were different, and made a project of it; following the scientific method, he started with observations of the fields. After finding all the species he could identify from an old field guide that morning in the flower fields, went off north.

Trees surrounded him, and soon he was at the Terrace. Though wearing his cap, he settled under one of the few trees that did not harbor a house to take a break in the shade. Digging out his book, a blank sheet of parchment, and quill and ink, he began to write down the flowers and grasses he found earlier that day. He began to draw detailed picture of knotweed after he jotted a few notes of it.

Despite what he would claimed, he did spend time doodling and drawing on his work. He had nothing to worry about out here, though—no one ever bothered him at the Terrace, if not ever taking notice of him, being busy in the trees and all, so no one would know about it. This place was even more peaceful than Thornbury, but he knew he'll never move out here, finding the living conditions more trouble than they were worth. Daily visits were enough for him.

He bent further over the parchment as the drawing began to become more detailed, and soon became oblivious to everything but his work.

[/html]
#2
[html]
ooc here

Butterflies were such beautiful creatures. Dalgina laid under the tree, perfectly still. Her four legs were tucked under her body gently, not even her tail swaying as a butterfly flitted nearby. It's wings were a pale yellow, light flashing through them. The form was so small, would be so easy to harm. She watched it move from flower to flower, never pausing for more than a beat before it's wings rose in a flurry again. It moved back and forth before Dalgina's patience finally paid off, pausing on her nose.


Her breath drew in sharply, delighted that the butterfly had chosen to rest on her. Just like that, the spell was broken, the beautiful creature flying away. Standing her tail swayed behind her, watching it's erratic flight over the flowers. It passed by the large tree, holding the terrace above. Her eyes widened, seeing someone resting there. He seemed rather engrossed in what he was doing. Dalgina stayed where she was for a moment before coming over, paws silent over the ground. Crouching low she did her best to look over his shoulder without disturbing him.


What he was doing was incredible. A fllower was coming to life under his guidance. She could almost see it lifting off the page, filled with detail. Her tail swayed, entranced by his actions. Dalgina didn't speak, wanting to keep watching until it was finished, and ready to come up. Her eyes flicked over to another page, a different flower drawn with just as much love and detail resting there. It was finished, and it was incredible to look at. She drank it in, memorizing each curve and stroke before returning to his current creation, thinking about mimicking it once he was done.

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#3
[html]

(312)

It was not like Robert was ashamed that he liked to draw, he was just scared that someone would catch him doodling flowers and plants and consider that was all he did and find him girlish. Drawing nature was not the most manliest thing a grown boy could do, but it was necessary if he was going to make papers about the fields, never knowing if his findings would lead on to important discoveries. But, he knew how people that were not his family liked to judge others, even without an explanation. He did not want their opinions on how he went about his business, but yet here he was, hiding his work as usual.

The blooming knotweed was more than halfway finished, and blew on it a little to make the ink dry faster. He gently brushed the tiny bits of debris with his fingers, careful not to sludge his creation. The Collins tried to straighten his back so he could inspect his drawing from a regular distance, but felt something bump back into him. He stopped, slightly hunched in an awkward position, confused for a moment. He knew it wasn't the tree, and there was nothing else for him to bump into. Then what was it?

He turned around, and had to force himself not to jump; the inkwell rested on his knee, and if he moved too roughly, he would be crying over spilled ink, or a blotchy parchment and a ruined picture. Instead, he stared at the dark girl, and murmured cautiously, "Hello, miss... How long have you been watching me?" His last statement was a little pointed, and he wanted it to be obvious to her that he did not find her secret company to his fancy so far. As a second thought, his hands slid over his papers, covering what she had actually been looking at.

[/html]
#4
[html]
ooc here

The male blew on the paper, the dark ink glistening as it slowly seeped into the rough paper. Dalgina's tail wagged, eyes bright with joy. It wasn't quite finished when he straightened up, bumping against her. Immediately Dalgina crouched down, trying to make herself invisible. Her heart pounded, waiting for him to do something. She was going to get into so much trouble for this. She should have just asked, but the picture had been so pretty, and she hadn't wanted to interrupt.


Her ears flattened at the pointed question. It had been rude. I'm sorry...your drawing was so beautiful though...I didn't want to interrupt. Dalgina almost sighed with disappointment as the drawing was covered, eyes dropping to the ground. She shouldn't have just been silent. Anything would have been better than this extremely awkward situation. Dalgina wasn't even too sure what she was going to do.

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#5
[html]

(222)

After a moment of looking at her, he realized it was only a girl that had be watching him. Or, as she explained a moment later, gist drawing. Though he still felt inclined to scold her for watching him without allowing him to acknowledge it, he could not make the words come to his tongue. Instead, he let them die, and slowly removed his hands from the papers. He guessed they were not too shabby... "Thank you for your comment, it is much appreciated," he stated after a second of silence, and turned his back on her to face his parchment again, though it did not seem he was ignoring her presence as he continued to speak.

"Its called knotweed. Though it doesn't seem very nutritious, one is able to consume the flowering plants if they were hungry enough. They're found in the flower fields south of here, and perhaps in the northern ones as well." His attempt for conversation was pitiful at best, but he was trying. The only thing he found interesting to talk about was the drawing she has been watching him conceive.

"My name is Robert Frost Collins. I am an Artisto--but I don't draw. I write things, like stories and research. Speaking of which, I am even working on a project now. Who might you be, miss?"

[/html]
#6
[html]
ooc here

The silence lasted forever in her ears. Dalgina felt miserable, unable to apologize enough to recover from her mistake. She was already a fairly timid creature, and having him confront her about it made her even more timid in her actions. His voice finally broke the silence, thanking her for the compliment. Dalgina raised her head off the ground, tail beating ever so slightly behind her. Had he really forgiven her for being so rude? She hoped so.


Dalgina listened as he spoke about the flower he'd been drawing. Most of it meant very little to her, though she knew that she could eat the plant now. Dalgina wasn't interested in eating plants. She'd rather hunt something down to eat. She perked up some more as he introduced himself, resuming the work he'd been doing earlier. Dalgina. Dalgina Wolfe-Denahlii. I'm an artisto too, but I draw. What's your project?

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#7
[html]

(287)

He listen to Dalgina as she explained who and what she was. His lips curled the slightest when she mentioned that she was an Artista, though the smile died on his face as soon as it had been born. He was a scholar, not someone who can be amused by coincidences. As if put himself back into his place, he asked in a very mannerly and leveled tone, "What do you usually draw, miss Dalgina?" There were so many things one could draw, so his question was a bit broad. He stuck to plants and, whenever he can, animals, but knew there were more imaginative things out there to recreate.

He became more interested in their conversation as she asked about his project, and spoke while he completed the finishing touches on the sketch. "I am comparing the number of species found in the flower fields to the ones in the northern fields. That's just my current step at the moment, though. I'm trying to see why there's more living organisms in the south than in the north. Knowing why might help the pack, so I may as well research for my mother to use if it be of any use for her."

The drawing of the knotweed was done, and he leaned back once more--though he minded the dark girl and made sure not to bump into her. "But... since you're here, it made me realize I need a break." Though the tireless worker he was, he had stayed up the night before reading the proper field guilds he would need. Though he was not fatigue, he did wish to avoid mental exhaustion and to prevent procrastination. "Do you want to do anything together, miss Dalgina?"

[/html]
#8
[html]
ooc here

A smile briefly reflected at her words. Dalgina dared to hope that she might be forgiven, tail moving for a beat behind her. It was good that he wasn't mad at her anymore. She hadn't been able to help herself from studying the picture. The detail was so much better than anything she could do. Only time would help her improve as she kept practicing. Someday, Dalgina was determined that her brush strokes would come out with the bold strength that she had seen used today.


Looking up Dalgina thought about her art. The blue sky shone above her, encouraging her questions. Light filtered through the trees, catching her eyes. The answer was hard to figure, but watching the day light up before her gave Dalgina her answer. Life. Light. I draw the beauty in the world. It could be as simple as a flower, as complex as a roaring landscape, or a delicately drawn butterfly. They all took time to finish, but they came out well.


She did her best to follow along as he spoke about the research he was doing. Dalgina had her own private theory about why the south did best. It was because it was sun kissed, while the north was more shady. Of course it grew better when it received so much more attention. Asked about what they could do together, Dalgina's ears flattened slightly, caught by surprise. Maybe...you could show me how to draw like that?

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#9
[html]

(296)

He listened as she explained what she drew, and oddly, it made sense to him. "I guess I draw the same things... Though I would not call my own creations beautiful. They are mere mimic of the real things. And, they are not as lively as well." As he judged his drawings, they were highly realistic, but they were "dead"; dark ink colored them instead of the bright hues that the earth produced. While he would love to add detail to his drawings, he neither had the time nor materials to do so. He never really thought about that until Dalgina made him think about it, but he did not allow himself to dwell on it long.

"Well, I do not know if I can actually show you how to draw like me... but I can try." No one taught him how to draw, it was just something that struck him--like, one day he decided to draw, and ever since then practiced until he drew like he did that day. Robert was not even sure if drawing was teachable, but the least he could do was let her watch him.

He dug around in his bag and brought out another inkwell and a clean sheet of parchment, and turned to face the girl. He pulled over what to draw for a moment, then decided to do something easy but familiar. "I always draw things that I can picture clearly in my head. If I do not have a clear mental picture of what I am making, it will come out the way I do not want it to." He dabbed the tip of his quill into the ink, and after a moment's pause, began to draw slightly curving lines that were side by side each other.

[/html]
#10
[html]
ooc here

Confusion colored her features as he spoke. How was what he made not beautiful? Dalgina had watched it come to life under his strokes, bold and large. They almost seemed to be struggling to escape the page. His words were quiet, almost as if stating fact. They were ugly facts though, and immediately Dalgina wanted to deny them. They are beautiful. They might not be real, like the ones around us, but they are still a creation. I can see them, fighting to come to life. To waltz off and bloom. They want the color, and they exist because you made them. Her tail swayed, eyes half closed as she imagined the art rising up, tail swaying faster and faster with excitement.


Told that he would show her Dalgina let out a small gasp. Sitting forwards her hands clasped on her lap. Brown eyes watched his hands as they brought out ink and parchment. It was better than the scraps she had used to draw on, weathered with age. Nodding she tried to imagine what he was making, watching the lines come out. They were so clear, the ink flowing smoothly onto the paper. The curves drew her in, breathing as they stretched out. What would the form be?

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#11
[html]

(305)

Robert blinked in surprise as she denied his words and claimed the opposite. He glanced once, back to Dalgina, and then back to his own drawings as he listened to her words. In a different situation, if he was not looking at his pictures, he would have sniffed at her words and openly disagree with her. But, he found himself remaining silent as she described how they were beautiful. After a moment's pause when she was finished speaking, he said, "...I have to suppose you are right."

To what extent, he did not say out loud, for he was not sure himself. He was not used to praise, and did not know how to accept it.

As his hand gracefully moved over the paper without a rest, he took a quick glance at the girl's face that was trained hard on the drawing that swelled from the quill''s tip onto the paper. The Collins looked back down to the drawing, but now his lips curled in the slightest of a smirk.

The stem, the base and the support for the picture, was completed, and petals started to bloom from under the the feather's tip. They were evenly splayed out from a circular center, and soon the last leaf had reached out alongside its many twins, and his hand slowed as it made the final touches of the shading, a few strokes here and there. He lifted his hand away from the daisy that had sprung to the paper in a matter of minutes, and raised his head to look at Dalgina.

"Do you want to try?" he asked as he settled the quill next to the flower, "I got extra parchments and things to draw with." He did not usually offer things to others, but for some reason, he felt like sharing with the girl.

[/html]
#12
[html]
ooc here

Her tail wagged as the wolf studied his drawings. Silence hovered before he agreed with her. She'd been right. The drawings were beautiful, and nothing could cover that up. It was like what her papa had said. There was beauty, and if someone disagreed they just weren't looking hard enough. The beauty in the drawings was right there to see though. It surprised her that he hadn't noticed how good they were on his own with the details it possessed.


The ink continued to swell across the paper, stem complete. Broad sweeping strokes brought the flower to life, shading completing the symmetrical appearance it had. She could almost see the sun that fell down on it, warming the daisy. Nodding her head Dalgina smiled, eyes glittering with the offer. She would make a flower, hopefully one that would match his own. Years of practice divided their skills, but she still wished to accomplish it.

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#13
[html]

(244)

He smiled back as he accepted his offer, and handed her the materials. "Be careful with the ink. I did not bring much with me, so do not spill it." It was not that he had expected her to knock it over or anything, he thought a fair warning was in order. When he was about her age, he had spilled a jar of the black liquid onto one of the first parchments he had ever made, and was livid and depressed for the rest of that day. He had learned to be more careful when things like that, and was at least grateful that it was not a book that was ruined.

As Dalgina drew, he pulled his work papers back onto his lap, and went back to the place he had left off before the girl disturbed him. Instead of drawing, he wrote down the notes of the individual plants, and left enough space for a picture to be inserted by them; he needed to get the actual information of the plants before he drew them, since it was the most important part. The two artists sat together in silence as each did their own thing, and persisted for a few minutes.

After copying down the usage of a different flowering plant, he glanced over at the dark girl to see how she was coming along. "How is it going?" Robert asked as he tried to get a look at the paper.

[/html]
#14
[html]
ooc here

Nodding her head Dalgina accepted the parchment. Reverently she dipped the quill, watching the ink cover it. She hadn't used ink before in drawing. It was new for her. Cautiously she made her first stroke. It glistened on the page, wet and moist before the paper absorbed it. Smiling Dalgina continued, another brush across the page. It was slow work, the ink drawing across the page. Each stroke was considered with care before being allowed to touch down on the page, hardly anything visible at first.


It was a rough form that came out first. The tilt of a flower, struggling to raise off the page. Frowning Dalgina deepened her lines, filling out the petals. It wasn't symmetrical as Robert's had been. It was rough, petals longer and shorter than each other. The symmetrical beauty was lost as the flower was clearly bent, pushed over by something. She added in some shading like she had seen him do, but it wasn't the perfect drawing that Robert had done. Okay.

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#15
[html]

(287)

He looked over the daisy that laid on the paper. Admittedly, it was not as good has his, but it was to expected, given how young Dalgina was and her inexperience with ink. Nonetheless, he smiled at the picture, finding it endearing in some sort of way, and stated encouragingly, "I think that flower looks just about ready to plucked right from the page." Again, he set aside his work, though this time around he was more willing to do so, and brought out a more wrinkled and ragged parchment, one he had been minding to toss out. Now, it had a better fate than to be left blank.

"When you write with a quill and ink, its different that drawing with a brush and paint. With a paintbrush, its like you are making a thick river, you have to press hard on the tip to guide it. But, with a quill, its different." He began to draw again, though this time it was curling lines and tiny spirals. "A quill is a feather, its used to light air, a light pressure on it. It's still free, like the bird. You can only subtly flick your hand with it, as if you are moving with it, that it's a part of you." When he lifted his quill, he had made a meaningless symbol that contained many swirl and turns, though they somehow fitted to one another.

"Try to draw your most favorite flower, one that you cannot imagine never seeing again. Try to draw it so that you do not have to go on without missing it," the Collins suggested, this time keeping an eye on her so that he could lead her to the right direction.

[/html]
#16
[html]
ooc here

Her lips tugged into a hesitant smile. She knew it wasn't good. Dalgina needed lots of practice before she was anywhere near his level. It was tragic, really. The young female wanted to create so badly, but the art fell short. Having him compliment it felt nice, knowing that he could recognize the level of ability. He hadn't considered his own work good, how could he possibly think that hers was? Her tail still swayed behind her, if reluctant to believe.


She watched happily as he drew over a wrinkled piece of paper. It seemed so worn, as if it had waited a long time to hold something on it. Now it did. Her mouth opened in a small oh, admiring the swirling symbol that came out. Nodding her head she grasped the pen eagerly. Her favorite flower. It was a tough choice. At last she settled on the tiny flowers that laid their heads down, always seeming so bright and restful. The arch of the blue bells was difficult, her mind doing her best to pretend it was a feather, and her strokes were allowing her to soar through the air.

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#17
[html]

(249)

He saw her faltering smile, and he pursed his lips as he tried to think of something that will prove his words honest. After a moment, nothing came to mind, but suddenly he was struck with an idea. "One moment," he stated quickly, raising an index fingerwhile his other hand dug around in his bag. He moved around books and papers within it, pushing them out of the way until he clasped his hand around a thin book that was hidden beneath all of the clutter on the bottom. He pulled it out, its cover a dull red and the script that bore its title, Beauty and the Beast, faded.

He opened the book to a particular page, and pulled out a piece of parchment that was stuck in there. On it was a less than appealing rose, stem too crooked to possibly support it, its petals jagged and hard looking. "This was one of the first times I tried to draw a flower, I think around your age. Its not as good as your's, is it?" he asked as he compared her daisy to his rose. It was hardly a comparison, really. "I think after a few more months, you'll be better than me."

He watched as Dalgina started to draw something, and having some difficulty with a curve. As much as he wanted to step in and do it for her, he held himself back; Robert wanted to see if she could do it on her own.

[/html]
#18
[html]
ooc here

Dalgina paused in her drawing, the flower not even partly completed as she tried for the feathered stroke he'd said was best. It was so light, the lines coming off paper thin. She watched as he dug through his bag, brows furrowed in concentration. Every inch of him was a scholar, studious in his actions. His hands seemed so strong and sure, diving through as if he'd done it a million times before. He probably had. The quiet presence he held was almost mesmerizing for her. She watched him flip the pages of a worn book. The leather was so old, parts of it starting to break off from the rest, peeling gilded letters on the cover that she could barely make out under his hands.


Ragged parchment was drawn out and passed over to Dalgina. She accepted it reverently, holding the paper with care as she looked down at the broken rose. It wasn't a good drawing, nowhere near the perfection of what she was trying to mimic. Almost sad in a way, head hanging from a broken stem as the petals curved off in broken detail. Her tail wagged, listening to him. This was his first? Such a difference! Smiling she placed the flower down and resumed her sketch, hands more sure now.


The light flow that came now didn't mean she'd suddenly improved. The flower she finished was better than before, but still held a slight unevenness to the petals. She'd tried drawing it for just a peek inside, the shading struggling to depict the secret that was inside as she arched the stem to show it waiting to ring. A couple splatters of ink covered the page, though luckily there was none on the picture itself. She passed it over to Robert, waiting for his approval.

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]
#19
[html]
(291) If Robert wasn't such a Frosty pants, he could probably be the nicest guy ever. |: [/just realized this]

He grinned crookedly when she paused her drawing, looked over the parchment, and smiled down at its awfulness. He knew it made her feel better and helped her believe his words, so he did not mind making a slight mockery of himself. In fact, he realized how much he had improved since he picked up a quill and decided to draw something instead of writing words. When Dalgina had placed down the drawing, he quietly slipped the paper back to him as she went back to her own flower and looked it over once more with a closer inspection.

The more he studied it, he became less detested by it, and began to trace the lines that had been basically carved into the paper with a claw, following the crevices that he had made long ago. He began to wonder what exactly he had been thinking when he drew this and why he did not throw it out months ago. He had forgotten about it, but he felt no reason to be attached to it now... And yet, he felt like keeping it with him for a little while longer.

He placed the parchment back into its place within the book, and set it back in his bag. When he rose back up, a paper was handed to him, and he took it gingerly and flipped the page to face him. He looked it over for a moment, quiet and emotionless. He lowered the drawing back to the girl, a softer smile on his muzzle. "You're already getting better, miss Dalgina. You'll become even greater if you practice often, at least once a day. If you want, you can continue working on that... I can always go to Flanders field tomorrow."

[/html]
#20
[html]
ooc here

Dalgina shifted nervously as he looked at the flower. There was no expression on his face, no hint of what he was thinking. His face, so expressive for her, was carved out of stone. Was it that bad? Dalgina didn't know why he was taking so long looking at it, just that it was making her incredibly nervous. He was so good with his art, but Dalgina wasn't. Her drawings were simple. Even after he had shown her that she still wanted to impress him.


A smile did reveal itself as he lowered the paper down, her tail thrumming in the background. His voice sent her heart soaring, part of the endless sky arching above them. He liked it! Taking the drawing back a large smile covered her face, looking at the bluebell she had made. It wasn't near as perfect as she would like, but at that moment she couldn't imagine it any other way. It was the art that had earned his approval. I could go to the field with you. She peeked over the paper, hardly believing her boldness.

<style type="text/css">
.freetable4 b {font-weight:bold; color:#82752F;}
.freetable4 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freetable4 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#FFF159; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/GWdJz.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #82752F; -moz-border-radius: 15px; border-radius: 15px; padding: 180px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#AD9C3F; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]


Forum Jump: