A Drawn Musings

BlancBlack

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Oct 11, 2018
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Eleanor De Rose

Only few days have passed since the young lady's arrival at this peculiar island. In her time here, she had established a place to sleep in the local dorms and grew familiar with her schedule that she was required to follow for the rest of this school year. A peculiar change in pace indeed, but not necessarily a bad one. At this very moment, the girl was heading toward one of the art classrooms, her soft hands pressing against the rough wheels of her wheelchair to push it along the narrow hallways.

Not only for her own needs but surely for those of species yet unknown to her, the academy itself was fully accessible to someone with her disability, rendering all worry completely useless. It allowed her to arrive just on time, entering the mostly white room along with the rest of the individuals that were interested in learning how to create beautiful paintings from simple lines and colors on a canvas. Through the several windows present, gray skies would illuminate the fairly cozy, yet still very scholarly interior.

Given the time of the year, the classes were also well underway by now, resulting in no real introductions going through and a number of suspicious stares directed toward the new student, especially given her unusual appearance to many regular participants of this class. She cared not for such things. The desire for friends and acquaintances was there, certainly. Yet, she would never wish to force herself unto others. For now, she had picked up the brush and started looking over the subject in the center of the room, wondering if her musings would allow her to draw it well.



 

Romi

Secretly a Bird
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Jun 18, 2015
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Jude was not by any metric the kind of person you'd expect to be in an art class. He was, in more or less every way, the opposite of what most people thought of when they thought art student. He liked math. He liked history. He liked when things were clearly right or wrong, and got frustrated in the grey areas of subjectivity.

But art was a skill like anything else, and it was a useful skill. So he was trying. He was practicing. And he was doing a pretty poor job.

He'd arrived early in an attempt to get a leg up, grabbing a seat near the window and doing some sloppy sketches of objects around the room. He was there as people started trickling in--mostly familiar faces--but at least one was new, and Jude glanced up, blinking a few times before giving what he hoped was a friendly wave to the girl.

His brain already knew her name, but that didn't stop him from leaning over, holding out his hand for a shake.

"Angelo Genovese. First time in class?"
 
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