Post by Cyan on Feb 1, 2011 11:56:02 GMT -5
Blue eyes flickered across the library's expanse as a young boy clutched his sketchbook to his chest. The ravenclaw prefect was absent.
He cautiously moved one foot forward and then darted a few aisles deeper into the chamber of knowledge.
His shoe slid along the thin carpeting. He pressed his back against the smooth wood of another shelf and glanced around, his brown curls bouncing blithely around his face. His cozy slytherin robes hung over his delicate frame. A cut along his right arm and a tear from a knife at the skirt of the back and been poorly mended with magic; the threads came together mostly, but there were still some small holes decorating those areas. Some of the thread had probably been lost during the attacks--attacks of glass (idiot gryffindors) and attacks of a friggin' knife (one crazy knife-wielding ravenclaw).
But what attack was the scariest of all? That's right--the attack of the sharp-tongued ravenclaw prefect with eyes of desolation, Miss Cassandra Robinson!
And so, Cyan cautiously made his way to the back of the library, where he sat before. He didn't spy the knife-wielding maniac, either. It might have been a little less than logical to sit at the same doomed location as before, but habit was habit.
He quietly pulled out a chair and sat down, placing his sketchbook on the table.
Drawing a pencil and eraser from his pocket, he quickly began sketching out the frame of a man, deftly giving him a coat, a scarf, and boots. His eye locked onto the artist--the person was cautious but not necessarily interested.
...And Cyan soon found himself swimming in the art, applying graphite strokes here and there as the waves of his muse commanded.
He cautiously moved one foot forward and then darted a few aisles deeper into the chamber of knowledge.
His shoe slid along the thin carpeting. He pressed his back against the smooth wood of another shelf and glanced around, his brown curls bouncing blithely around his face. His cozy slytherin robes hung over his delicate frame. A cut along his right arm and a tear from a knife at the skirt of the back and been poorly mended with magic; the threads came together mostly, but there were still some small holes decorating those areas. Some of the thread had probably been lost during the attacks--attacks of glass (idiot gryffindors) and attacks of a friggin' knife (one crazy knife-wielding ravenclaw).
But what attack was the scariest of all? That's right--the attack of the sharp-tongued ravenclaw prefect with eyes of desolation, Miss Cassandra Robinson!
And so, Cyan cautiously made his way to the back of the library, where he sat before. He didn't spy the knife-wielding maniac, either. It might have been a little less than logical to sit at the same doomed location as before, but habit was habit.
He quietly pulled out a chair and sat down, placing his sketchbook on the table.
Drawing a pencil and eraser from his pocket, he quickly began sketching out the frame of a man, deftly giving him a coat, a scarf, and boots. His eye locked onto the artist--the person was cautious but not necessarily interested.
...And Cyan soon found himself swimming in the art, applying graphite strokes here and there as the waves of his muse commanded.