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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2008 11:14:48 GMT -5
It had been a long evening. Though she had tried to sleep for a change, instead D'rorah had spent a large portion of the night continuously tangling her sheets as she tossed and turned. Sleep, it seemed, was something best saved for those with fewer demons ranging through their minds and fewer worries weighing on their souls. As soon as the first rays of sunlight had peeked through the curtains of her bed, she gave up on her exercise in futility and rose quietly. It took very little time to shower, dress, and pin her waist-length hair up in its usual tight coif to keep it out of her way. The robes she chose today were jet black, accented by royal blue trim at the cuffs of her sleeves and at the neckline. She paused before the mirror, judging her appearance to be as satisfactory as it could be at the moment--hopefully nondescript enough to avoid any questions which might cause her to have to interact with random members of the student body. Only a few feathers of scars peeked out from her wrist-length sleeves, the rest were covered by her robes. Unfortunately, there was little she could do for the honey-blond hair now mottled with streaks of black and grey or for the newly greying tone of her previously pale skin... or eyes, previously an Athena grey, but now a darker hue, tending toward onyx.
With a dismissive exhalation, she shouldered her heavy satchel and set out for the library, walking with her head up and shoulders back, as though she had nothing in the world to hide. Pushing through the heavy oak doors of her familiar sanctuary, she quickly scanned the room to make certain her table in the back was free. Seeing that it was, she made her way to it, quietly pulling out a chair and taking a seat. She set to work putting out the texts she was using, along with her notebook and two newly sharpened quills with a bottle of black ink. That done, she set to her tedious work of translation. Her quill scratched across the sheaves of her notebook quietly as she sat, head bowed over her texts. In this state, it was difficult to command her attention; though not impossible. She frowned slightly at the text she was working on, apparently displeased with an inconsistency in the author's writing she was translating. It was an interesting frown, in that it didn't appear to occur as organically as a normal frown might. Emotions were difficult for her to grasp at the moment. After her near-corruption following a lengthy "questioning" at the Ministry, they had nearly slipped away. She had only been saved by the quick actions of the other Lightfighters.
The frown faded quickly and she resumed her writing, quill scratching away quietly against parchment in the early morning hours. She would sit like this for quite some time, able to maintain her focus for hours on end if necessary. That focus was one of many traits instilled in her by her father, back when she had lived in New York and still had a family... before this war this Darkness had come to such a violent head.
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Post by Bryan Kelley on May 10, 2008 11:37:19 GMT -5
The time had been late by the time Bryan had made it to bed. He had actually done his homework. Well, perhaps this was not something so surprising. After all, Bryan always did his homework. Perhaps the surprising part was that he had not waited until the last possible moment to do it. However, that was more from a slip of his mind. Somehow, he had thought his two essays were due the very next morning. He finished them around one in the morning only to realize they were due three days later. Bryan wasn't about to complain about being done early, it left him with time to do things much more enjoyable.
However, with school, the boy was used to waking up at a certain time and despite his late night he was still rolling out of bed early in the morning. His eyes were foggy and he rubbed the sleep from them before he prepared for the day. With a yawn, Bryan had stopped in the Great Hall for a quick bite to eat before, with his bag slung over his shoulder and a pencil stashed behind his left ear he approached the library. It would be quiet at this time of day and he could settle himself down and draw without any disruption. After how many hours of writing an essay he needed some mindless oblivion to take part in.
Coming into the library, he brushed his hair from his face and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment, covering the snake bit piercings for a moment as his eyes looked over the area. He was correct, it was quiet with few people around. However, he was now left to find some place to seat himself, and preferably something interesting to draw. He shifted the strap of the bad on his shoulder before he walked through the shelved room and observed the tables placed through out.
His eye caught a few interesting areas to draw and more than once he walked quietly back to them to look them over. However, he did not seat himself but moved towards the back of the room. There he found a few more tables and a few people seated doing their homework or something else. He didn't really care that much to take note. However, one person did catch his eye and more than once he looked in the girl's direction as he studied the curves of her face, the fall of her hair, and the expressions that flittered over her face. He leaned against one of the shelves as he contemplated this challenge before him.
He did not often draw people, unless they happened to be in a background he was trying to capture. It would be an interesting change. However, would the girl want him to even attempt it? Some people loved the idea of someone drawing them, for whatever reason, but there were some who didn't. He turned his gaze away as he looked at the statue and shelving he had previously settled on before looking once more to the girl.
He shrugged his shoulders. If she said no, he had a back up to draw. What did it hurt? With a decision made, Bryan stood up straighter and walked towards the girl at the table.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you," he stated quietly when he reached her table. "However, I was wondering if you would mind if I sketched you. If not there if a wonderful wall that way that I'll be just as happy to try my hand at," he continued, motioning the area he had previously picked out. It didn't occur to Bryan that he said could possibly be taken as some sort of cheesy pick-up line, and from any other guy it possibly could be, after all why else would one ask a girl if they could draw her? Of course, there was the reason that Bryan actually did. She was an interesting model and would provide a challenge to his skills.
He waited patiently for her reply.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2008 11:52:27 GMT -5
D'rorah was moving along at quite a clip with her writing when something intruded upon the edges of her consciousness. She blinked several times as she realized that someone was speaking to her. It wasn't usual for her to be approached by the other students at Hogwarts; unless they wished to annoy her with either an inane taunt or a request for help with homework. She looked up, her eyes taking several moments to refocus on the newcomer after they came to rest upon him.
Hearing his question, her left eyebrow arched slightly. She looked him over, taking his measure. "Why would anyone wish to sketch me?" she questioned dismissively. She glanced back to her translations and then again to Bryan. "I do not even know who you are." And yet... did she know him? Impossible. She couldn't even recall his name, so she had almost certainly never met him.
She looked over at the wall he had indicated he was considering sketching. Interesting... she was being categorized along with a wall... that thought rolled around in her mind for a moment before her quill resumed its quiet scratchings and her eyes returned to her work. She wrote for a few moments, as though she had simply forgotten about the boy before her before finally answering.
"Do as you wish. Just do not interrupt me again," she replied finally. The request to sketch her was nearly as absurd to her as the reality of being sketched. What did she care if anyone put her image on paper? True, she couldn't recall it ever having been done before... just as she had never before been lumped into a category with scenery. She had seen herself in the mirror this morning and knew what she looked like... she couldn't imagine anyone would find it interesting enough to put in the effort to document with pencil and paper. But then, far stranger things had happened since she had come to Hogwarts.
After another minute or so, her voice floated up from her papers. "What is your name?" she asked, figuring she ought to know at least that much about someone who would likely be spending a fair amount of time looking at her if he decided to sketch her after all. She looked up again to see if he was still there, her eyes once again taking a few moments to refocus after her close scrutiny of the texts in front of her.
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Post by Bryan Kelley on May 10, 2008 12:06:51 GMT -5
Bryan didn't know what he expected the girl to reply with. Since she was working on something, he could easily assume he would get a curt reply. Instead, he received an almost vague response. Why would anyone sketch her? Why did anyone sketch something? Bryan found himself wanting to say, however he held his tongue. The girl was obviously not an artist and he was not seeking to interrupt her more than he had already. However, by her response and then silence, he was sure that she would probably dismiss him just as easily as her question had been vague. Perhaps he should start measuring up the wall again.
He didn't know that the girl had thought him comparing her to wall. In a way, many people would probably find it an insult. And yet, like so much already, the thought had not even crossed the boy's mind. Why should it? His mind was more on drawing and the like, not how a person received him and his request. Perhaps this was not very wise thought path to follow, but Bryan couldn't really help it. It just sort of happened.
Her silence did nothing to erase his belief that her answer would be that in a negative. As the silence stretched, Bryan considered leaving and just moving to a table near the wall and start on it. However, she surprised him when she finally spoke. He blinked. So she had not outright shot him down. However, it was apparent she did not want to be bothered any more. "Thank you," he stated just as quietly when he had addressed her -- they were in a library after all.
Bryan was silent as he pulled out a chair near the corner of the table, a good enough distance, as far as he could be at the same table, from her so as to get a good advantage point and not disturb her. Once seated, he pulled his bag onto his lap and pulled out his sketch book, placing his bag back on the floor, before he opened the book to a new page. As he was opening the book, he blinked when the girl spoke to him again. If she wanted to be left alone, or rather not disturb, why ask him his name? Surely they would not meet again after this, especially if they had not met before in all of Bryan's six years in the school.
"Bryan Kelley," he answered her. "And yours?" he then asked, merely for politeness and so he could write it upon the page and give her the proper credit for her likeness -- if he was able to even do her justice, she might not even want her name there if it turned out horrible. Bryan was not used to drawing people in detail. It would be a trial.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2008 12:25:15 GMT -5
D'rorah gave no indication she had heard Bryan's thank you. But when he asked for her name in return, she answered nonetheless. They might as well be properly introduced if he intended to spend the next few hours staring at her. "D'rorah Philosophy," she replied tonelessly.
With that said, she returned to her work. Hogwarts turned out to be more and more odd from her point of view. She didn't think anything like this would have ever happened at Falstaff's in New York. The thought brought pangs of nostalgia to her. She realized the move to Hogwarts had been necessary because of the Shadow War, but she still blamed her caretaker for pulling her from New York so quickly after the deaths of her parents. Her lip twitched slightly at the unpleasant memory before she pushed those thoughts away to continue on with her translations.
As she delved more deeply into the pages she worked with, she pushed aside even the thought of Bryan and his request to sketch her. As so often happened when she worked, she spared little mental energy for anything outside of the task at hand. She wrote on for quite some time, her quill doing its erratic dance across parchment almost without cessation until the point suddenly broke. Hearing the quiet snap, her eyes darted from the page she had been reading to her quill, noting the ink blotch that had appeared where it had broken. The tip lay at an impossible angle, not something she could simply straighten out and continue to use. With a slow, deep breath, she set the offending quill aside and selected her second one. After a moment's thought, she set her quill aside and reached into her right sleeve for her wand as well, unable to abide by the blotch of ink on her notebook. A quiet tergeo quickly dispatched the blotch, leaving the notebook sheaf as though nothing untoward had happened.
She put the wand away in the pocket of her sleeve and retrieved the quill once again. She was just about to resume writing when she remembered her last interruption. It had been some time ago. Likely, Bryan had moved on to some other, more interesting subject. Clearly, her emotionless and nearly-corrupted features couldn't be all that captivating. The wall must almost certainly have been more interesting. She looked up to where he had been sitting when last she spoke, wondering whether or not he would still be there. "It seems a day destined for interruption," she mused aloud to herself, referring to both the quill and to Bryan.
She recalled the feeling from before that she had known him. She almost certainly had not... but as she looked over toward him, it resurfaced, leaving her feeling vaguely unsettled.
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Post by Bryan Kelley on May 10, 2008 13:14:06 GMT -5
Bryan inclined his head when she had spoken her name. He pulled the pencil from behind his left ear, and with his left hand wrote her name at the corner of the paper. He hoped he spelt it right. He did not ask for the same reason he did not speak more than absolutely necessary. He did not wish to disturb her. It was clear she did not want to be spoken to more than was needed. So instead of saying anything, Bryan settled in his chair and placed the tip of the pencil to the paper and just drew.
The rhythmic motions and sweeps of the lead over the paper soon drew the boy in and he had quickly forgotten about his surroundings as he focused on his subject and the paper before him, intent on placing the likeness down in a solid form. Bryan was not just drawing one picture of the girl before him. The first page he had opened to had been filled with different sketches of the girl. Some were more detailed than others. Some focused on certain features of the girl, the shape of her face, her eyes, nose, mouth and then some focused on her hair, her shoulders, the way she sat in her chair. He had even stopped drawing the girl at one point as his attention focused on her surroundings. He had captured the books, table, scrolls, and quills that surrounded D'rorah.
More than once, Bryan had turned the page of his sketch book as he filled them with sketches. He was not used to drawing humans, and now that he was drawing them, he focused on the components that made up the girl before him. He sought to familiarize his hand with the human form again before he put the girl to paper in one detailed sketch. For now, the pages were filled with bits and pieces. If one did not know that D'rorah was his subject they may not of have been able to figure it out from the figures he had drawn.
He did not notice the passing of time. Perhaps he should of. He didn't give thought to the fact that his subject could at any moment finish what she was doing, or had some previous engagement that she would soon have to leave. Instead, Bryan continued to draw as if the girl was in fact a wall. A wall did not move and he needed not to worry about it suddenly having to leave and go some place else, unlike this real life and living figure before him.
However, it seemed that the girl was equally engrossed in her work that the passage of time did not seem to affect either of them. They were each engrossed in their given task that the other's presence seemed to have disappeared into the back reaches of their mind. One would even wonder if the two were even aware of the fact that time was still going on around them, that people were coming in and out of the library at every moment. That only five feet away a student had pulled a book from a shelf and was even now taking it back to their own table.
All this appeared to be ignored by the two students at the table. Even when Bryan's pencil became dull he did not surface from his world. He merely reached into his bag and pulled out a sharpener, preferring it to using his wand, and sharpened the pencil before turning it back to the page. By the time D'rorah's quill tip had broken, Bryan was still working on a page of miniature sketches. At the moment he was finishing a study of her hands, so his eyes watched their movement and form with an attention to their movement and form. He didn't even seem aware that her attention had shifted to where he sat.
He did not even hear her as she spoke, so in tuned to what he was doing with the pencil in his hand at that moment.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2008 13:40:30 GMT -5
Seeing that he was engrossed with his work much as she was with her own, D'rorah returned back to her texts. It was an interesting commonality to find someone who could become engrossed in a task in the same manner she became engrossed in her own studies. Even though he didn't know it, his focus had earned a bit of respect from her. Even though she did not share his particular passion for drawing, she recognized the drive within him. A curiosity was slowly building within her to see what she might look like in the eyes of another. It occurred to her that this would be an opportunity to see herself from Bryan's perspective... and perhaps that could be useful in some way, though she wasn't quite sure how.
Mentally, she scolded herself from her deviation from her own work. There were many texts to translate, and hopefully any one of them might hold something that would be useful for the Lightfighters in this war. Deeper down, she hoped one might also hold some answer for her own current problem. A Shadow Warrior with no Elemental Master was a creature doomed to darkness and corruption; it was only a matter of time before she began to lose her fight. Even with the continued help of the other Lightfighters, her current situation was temporary at best.
Realizing that time was wasting, she opened several more books and placed them around her. It would save time to cross-reference things as she went along, as she normally did. The languages swam in her head like an unruly soup, Ugaritic mixing with Jurchen and Akkadian, and those mingling with French and Japanese. There were thousands of years of history held in the texts she had collected, perspectives from many cultures and traditions--all held together by the single uniting thread of the Shadow Wars as they had progressed throughout time in this realm. She had seen documented the rise and fall and several different Shadow Mages and of generations and generations of Lightfighters whenever the balance began to tip dangerously toward Darkness.
Reading it, in anyone more in-tune with her emotions would have elicited despair. It seemed the battles and the back and forth struggle for balance would never end. Even if they defeated the current Mage, a new one would only rise in her place, intent to bringing Yang into their world so he could wreak his particular brand of havoc. To D'rorah's cold, logical mind however, it was merely history and every sentence a potential tool that might assist with victory.
And so she was, lost once again in her own work, pages flipping fairly regularly as she wrote along, her quill running about ceaselessly. She filled several pages in her notebook as she wrote, relishing the feel of once again being in her true habitat, rather than attempting to force herself to sleep as she had done throughout the night. She had reached quite a rhythm in her writing when her second quill, exhausted from its furious flight across the pages, finally gave out with a small snapping sound. D'rorah's eyes narrowed as she heard the sound. She looked at the offending quill as though it had personally insulted her in failing to live up to her expectations of performance. "Dammit." She muttered darkly, realizing she had no other quills left. She would have to buy more; no big deal in and of itself, but certainly an inconvenience. This one was crumpled beyond any hope of recovery, but a quick assessment of the previous quill indicated that it might serve for the short-term with sharpening.
She contemplated why she didn't simply switch to pens, but knew it was an inherited prejudice from her father. Part of penmanship was the ability to make graceful letters without the need for modern muggle technologies. She couldn't picture her father with a pen in his hand if he were working in his own study; and they were what she had grown up writing with. Still, perhaps time for a change. Though, she likely wouldn't be able to owl out for a pen... no, that would have to be purchased somewhere like London, a destination she didn't see in her immediate future.
She set the broken quill aside and reached into her bag for a small quill sharpener, taking up the first quill that had broken and attempting to make it useful once more. By the time a reasonable tip had been carved, however, the quill was too thin to be useful. Another deep breath entered and exited her lungs. Remembering Bryan once again, she glanced over to see his progress. Seeing that he had already interrupted her once, she thought perhaps it would be time to return the favor.
"As I seem to be temporarily bereft of writing utensils, it appears I shall have to depart soon," she remarked, speaking up slightly so as to break into his stream of concentration. "Were you nearly finished?" she asked, eyeing him curiously.
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Post by Bryan Kelley on May 10, 2008 13:58:43 GMT -5
It was easy to drift into the oblivion his concentration had placed him in. His mind was more interested in contemplating what would come out from under the tip of his pencil. The small sketches just seemed to pile up. The more he drew, the more Bryan had appeared to decide he was not quite ready to place it all into one drawing in his sketch book. His was rusty and in his eyes it showed. However, other people would probably profess that what he had done in his sketchbook now were master pieces, or close to. Bryan was his own worst critic, as were most people.
The page in his sketchbook he was working on in that moment was growing fuller as he continued to focus on the form her hands. The page was filled with her hands it seemed. When the object of his drawing had disappeared in her bag for a few moments, Bryan just waited patiently until they re-appeared. With the positions of her hands changing constantly at he moment, he had resulted in a few unfinished sketches with her hands in different positions.
With this movement of her hands, his attention was not quite as intense as it had been previous. It allowed her voice to enter the invisible wall that had been thrown up while had been drawing. However, the boy still blinked a few moments as his hand stopped moving. It was almost as if he was a bit disoriented, as if he had surfaced from a dream. However, it passed and he was turning his attention to her statement and question.
"Not really," he stated, as he analyzed his sketchbook, as if he wasn't even certain what he just drawn. "But I don't think I would be if you sat there for hours." He placed the sketchbook on the table, leaving the pencil on top. He took the moment to shake out his wrist, stretching the muscles and relieving the stiffness that had long started to set in.
"If you want to continue to work," he then stated, his mind turning to what she had stated first, "I have a variety of writing stuff in my bag: quills, pens, pencils, crayons, pastels..." he listed a few off, but when they turned more towards art stuff he trailed off. He was known for carrying art supplies on him. He always had something to write with, whether it was the customary pencil behind his ear or a bag full of stuff.
Bryan didn't really show much interest in what she was working on. He didn't even know a notch about the stuff that plagued her days. He never had a reason to know or care. His life was simple and with such an intense interest in drawing, it was easy to see why the boy was a bit of a loner, despite his friendly mean.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2008 14:17:50 GMT -5
D'rorah waited for an answer as Bryan re-oriented himself to the world outside of his artwork. His slow blinking beat out a steady rhythm in her mind. She nodded slightly as he answered her.
"As much as I would care to continue my work, perhaps my quills are attempting to tell me something," she remarked. Besides, borrowing something would create an obligation to him. At the very least, she would not be satisfied until she had repaid him in kind with a fresh quill. "I do appreciate the offer," she followed up, remembering proper protocol for such offered courtesies. "Perhaps I offer a less-interesting subject than you first thought, if you have been unable to complete your drawing so far." She looked around for the time, noting that a few hours had already passed. Most of the surrounding tables were empty and she could hear a the slight echo of the din from the Great Hall, indicating that most of the other students were already at lunch.
"It is unfortunate. I had thought it might be interesting to see myself from another point of view," she remarked absently as she began carefully stowing her books in her satchel. "Perhaps another time."
She flipped through the last few pages she had written, reviewing them quickly before closing the notebook to place inside her bag with the other texts. "Perhaps we shall see one another again, Mister Kelley," she remarked as she stood and shouldered her satchel, preparing to head out toward the owlery so she might send a post for more quills. With any luck she would receive them quite quickly and would be able to resume her work with as little interruption as possible.
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Post by Bryan Kelley on May 10, 2008 14:30:21 GMT -5
Bryan inclined his head when she rejected his offer. He wasn't offended by it nor did he give much thought to her answer. He had a feeling she would reject it. He didn't know what made him think such thoughts, considering he usually didn't think that far into people he met. He brushed the oddity away. He turned his attention to her after he picked up his pencil and placed it back behind his left ear.
"Hardly," he stated when she stated that she must have been an uninteresting model if he was not yet finished. "You were a very interesting model," he continued. He did not pay much attention as she packed up her belongings. Instead, he turned his attention to his sketch book and counted the pages he had filled up.
"You have taken up six pages in my sketch book," he stated once he came to a final number. He turned to the first page of the study he had preformed on her. He inclined his head politely when she started to say her farewells. He waited until she had finished speaking before he spoke again. "If you like, before you leave, you may look at what I had done and tell me how horrible I have captured you." Bryan did not have much faith in his ability at this point, especially if he had filled six pages with only character studies instead of finished drawings.
While he waited for her response, Bryan picked up the sharpener he had left on the table and pulled his bag onto his lap. He returned the contraption into the depths of the bag, and also sorted a few odds and ends that he neglected to fix when he first taken the sharpener out. His attention had been keyed to getting an expression down before it had left her face at the time that he had not seen to his bag as he normally did. He stopped shortly when the girl had seemed like she would make some sort of reaction to his statement. He waited.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2008 14:47:00 GMT -5
"Six pages?" D'rorah's eyebrow arched sharply as she turned back to face Bryan. She couldn't imagine how anyone could take six pages of her engrossed in research. She wasn't even sure how he had been able to manage one.
"I cannot imagine it could be anything more horrible than reality," she remarked dryly in response his his capturing her on paper. Curiosity won out her need to retreat to the owlery while the halls were still fairly empty of students, most of whom would be at lunch. Not quite sure what to expect, she made her way over to his table, thinking she would have only a cursory glance before leaving.
She came to stand behind his chair, allowing her eyes to roam over his drawings. No photograph would have captured the essence he had managed to, even in a simply rendering of her hands at various tasks. Intrigued, she reached down to flip to another page, intrigued with the images upon them. There she was... well, pieces of her anyway... and yet, they said something about her that she could not quite put into words.
"You have quite a talent, Mister Kelley," she remarked as she studied her various forms on paper. "It would seem you know more about the subject than the subject herself. This is excellent." She focused overlong on a picture with a rather immaculate detailing of her eyes, seeing an emotion in them she was hard-pressed to name in her current state. She saw her own muted facial expressions. Without quite realizing it, she slowly sank into the chair beside Bryan as she looked at his work, her satchel carefully lowered onto the floor beside her. "Yes, quite remarkable," she added quietly. "Quite remarkable indeed."
After several more moments she remembered herself. Shaking her head slightly to pull herself from her reverie, she looked over at the artist. It annoyed her that she was unable to place something about him. As tempting as it was to reach out with her mind for more information, she held herself in check. Uninvited telepathic scanning was an invasion of privacy she only permitted herself to perform under conditions of strict necessity; and satisfying her own curiosity could hardly be a necessity, could it?
"Have I met you before?" she asked finally, unable to shake the feeling of familiarity. "My initial reaction is that I have not, but something tells me that I have. Perhaps you know of Falstaff's School in New York?" she offered, hoping something would jog either of their memories.
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Post by Bryan Kelley on May 10, 2008 15:00:39 GMT -5
He watched as she walked back to where he sat. Bryan did not normally open his sketch book for other people to look at. He was self-conscious about his skill most times. However, since he had chosen to sketch an actual person, he felt he owed it to the girl to show her what he had done with her permission to use her as a model. It was the same in his mind as using another person's book for a source in one's essay. The piece deserved it's credit as the source of the following composition. However, unlike with a book, Bryan could show this source the outcome.
However, Bryan had not expected her to set down as she looked at the pages. He had expected she would look at them, say they were very good then walk away. Instead, she had seated herself, pulling the book closer as she looked at the multitude of sketches. Bryan looked at her face as her eyes took in his work. Even as he stared at her face, even though he captured it in various expressions, Bryan could not say what the girl was thinking. His only clue were the words she expressed.
At her praise, Bryan blushed. He had not thought the sketches that good and here the subject was saying they were excellent. He blundered through some denies of such praise. "Theres much I missed ... don't draw people often," he had muttered. The fascination of the girl was more than he had bargained for and he felt a little awkward. Bryan pushed these feelings to the side as he looked at his sketches. Even looking at them, flaws jumped out before his eyes. He truly was his worst critic.
He turned his attention to her when she spoke, this time without regard to his work. "No, I don't think so," he stated in answer. "I never heard of the school. I've lived in England my whole life so," he end the statement with a shrug. He didn't know what to make of this girl. First she was more interested in her own work, then she showed such fascination over his work, and now she was questioning if they had met before. He could not account for it. Nor could he account for how well he had been able to capture her. He could only attribute that to his eye for detail.
But then the question remained, why had he chosen her for a subject? He had never showed much interest in drawing people before. He had always been content to draw scenery and backgrounds and yet when he saw her, he felt she would be a good subject to draw. Bryan shook his head slightly to clear his mind. He was giving this far too much thought. It was all just nothing. She had merely sparked his artistic eye, that was all.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 10, 2008 15:18:27 GMT -5
"You give yourself far too little credit," she remarked in response to his muttered brushing off of her praise. It was something she offered often or lightly, and she was slightly abashed to have it refused. She was disappointed that he had never even heard of Falstaff's... but then, she supposed it shouldn't be surprising that wizards in Europe wouldn't stay abreast of people and places across the Atlantic; even a prestigious school like Falstaff's was apparently off the radar for some.
She loathed the nagging feeling his presence brought to her, as if she should know him. It annoyed her to be unable to place it. She didn't associate with many people, and she was always very good at recalling those with whom she had associated. "Well, I suppose it is nothing," she remarked, mostly to herself. "If you wish to finish your drawing at some point, this is the proper place to locate me. Sometimes I venture further back into the restricted section."
Unable to satisfy her curiosity, she once again lifted her satchel to her shoulder and stood from her chair, the movement one fluid motion. "I am certain we will encounter one another again, Mister Kelley," she remarked, certain she would manufacture an opportunity if one did not arise organically. She would satisfy that nagging feeling in her mind somehow.
"Good day." With that, she waited in case he would have anything further to say before she made her way to the owlery to send off for more quills. She hoped some memory would spark in his mind... but she could not even recall having worked with him on a class project since coming to Hogwarts. Turning back momentarily, she allowed her gaze to pass over him again, certain she would come up with an answer. Annoyed with herself that it did not, she once again turned back toward the door of the library to head up to the towers.
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Post by Bryan Kelley on May 10, 2008 15:39:42 GMT -5
Bryan nodded his head when she had stated it was probably nothing. "Perhaps," he stated non-committedly. His own mind was nagging at him, but for him it was more in an artistic sense, one he could usually attribute to a wish to draw or sketch. He suppressed it. "Enjoy the rest of your day," Bryan replied to her farewell with a smile. He watched her leave for a moment.
Turning his attention to his sketch book again, Bryan pulled the pencil from behind his ear and dated each of the pages before the pencil was returned. He did not notice as the girl glanced back though he had glanced once more in her direction before shaking his head, as if clearing his mind of a fog. He closed up the sketchbook and lifted his bag, sliding the spiraled book into the folds.
Bryan stood up and slung the strap over his shoulder and pushed his chair in. He decided he would leave the library. He didn't know what he would do now. Maybe he would stop in the Great Hall -- it should be about lunch now. With this decided, he walked out of the library and headed towards the nearest staircase. He turned his attention away from the D'rorah and the interesting meeting. He had spent enough thought there.
And yet, his mind turned that direction as he contemplated his work in his sketchbook. He had made enough sketches that could probably draw her without actually seeing her. However, he was not certain he wanted to try that. Perhaps he would go back to the library later in the week. It had showed to have some interesting subjects for him to pursue. His mind soon drifted away as the smell of food entered he nostrils.
Good. Lunch was still being served.
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