Snow & Co. [Makism]

[harley]

Harlington Samuel Buchanan

The large puffy flakes had always interested Harley – no matter how many times a snow day came along, he could always be found seated by a window, staring out as a thick white blanket covered the area. Though he’d been in Canada ever since his freshman year in high school, he never grew tired of snow. Often he had tried to draw snowy scenery but mostly it had been to no avail. He quickly came to realize that snow was something to just look at, not to be put down on paper.

Sitting at a table right next to one of the grand windows, Harley’s eyes frequently shifted their gaze from the outdoors to the paper in front of him that was quickly becoming covered with blue markings. He turned his attention back down to the paper, holding the pen lightly in his left hand. He had put down the general outline of a galloping horse but it was the finer details that always got him. Harley knew well enough the major muscle lines of the legs, neck, and barrel, but all the details of the face threw curveballs at him. Luckily for him the way the head was angled did not show the second eye, so that was one less thing to worry about. He took the pen and lightly went over the lines he already had, darkening them up and adding the lighter streaks to outline muscle and bone, giving more definition. Figuring that the body had enough, he then began to shade, his mind drifting elsewhere.

They had an iffy chance for snow – or so said his mother in a letter she had written. The weathermen here can’t predict anything right, so for all we know it could be like summer and he calls for snow! He lifted his gaze momentarily to the snow outside, trying to picture the smooth mountains back home covered with snow. The first thing he noticed was that it was extremely quiet whenever a heavy snowfall occurred. He would step outside and stay still, listening, and all he would hear was the large flakes hitting leaves and branches snapping. Really an amazing silence. His grey eyes lowered their gaze once again, making sure the horizontal lines were not slanted as he began on the ground beneath the hooves.

((I’m really bad at starter posts xD;; ))[/size][/justify]

[hound]

"TELL MUMMY I'M SORRY,
THIS LIFE IS A PARTY"
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Snow? Damn the snow. He was from New England, he knew snow. Hell, he was Russian, it was in his blood. That and vodka. Personally, he preferred potato-based alcohol. He had fire in his blood though, so Makism was fairly sure he would have to settle for that. No big deal, though. The main issue was the fact he was going to have to make his way through the snow and to the library. Of all the things that sucked, he hated book research the most.

He had a week left. That shouldn’t be a big fucking deal. The young man cut through the raw air and to the library. Better get this done… why did environmental science even require that he use a book source? Wouldn’t all the accurate, to the minute data be on the internet? Makism didn’t know. He lacked enthusiasm as he made his way across the ground, but at least he was back in the heat within a few minutes. Quick, but not too quick. The young man would deal with it grudgingly. His bag adjusted awkwardly on his shoulder as he scanned the room for a friendly face.

Ah! His eyes lit up a degree or so as he found Harley. The young blond man was sitting and sketching away, and Makism officially had a destination. Absently at first the fire leader made his way to one of the bookshelves, pulling whatever he found about the state of Europe’s moorelands. What the fuck was he doing with this project, anyway? As a mental note, he decided it would be best to check the rubric when he got a chance. The sheet had been kicking around in his bag for a week already.

It was to Harley’s table that he returned, a light in his eyes. The young man’s steps are gentle but clumsy, moving quietly but without grace. It doesn’t matter, at least his afternoon won’t be entirely boring. He’s directly behind Harley before speaking. "Boo!" Makism exclaims, getting a sharp look from the librarian where she sat at her desk. The young man gives a sheepish wave before sitting down at the table across from the blond man. "Boo." It’s more quietly, grinning at Harley with a peevish grin. A hand rakes through his dark hair, stretching up to peer at the man’s page. "What’chya doing?"

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"Talkin'."

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words: 390-ish
tag: Harlington!
outfit: clickie!
notes: We decided they knew each other, right?
lyrics: opposite of adults by chiddy bang
credit: morganxo@ caution 2.0

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"I'M NEVER GROWING UP!"

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[harley]

Harlington Samuel Buchanan

Shading was the one catch that Harley had a hard time figuring out. Where is the light coming from? What part will cast a shadow? Which part is directly in the light? He set his jaw and stared down at the picture, twisting the pen around between his fingers. Instead of challenging himself with some new shading techniques, he chose to put the light coming from the spot where he always did which was diagonally from the horse’s head. Tilting the paper some, he started crosshatching the shadows, bringing more dimension to the little drawing.

Focusing wholly on his paper, Harley was unaware of the Fire sneaking up on him. As soon as Makism spoke, the Thunder’s pen made a sudden jerk, shooting a long dark line off the page, and he jumped, startled. Makism sat down across from him, grinning, and all Harley could manage to do was shake his head. His heart was racing rather quickly, but after the revealing of his friend, he managed to calm down some. ”Boo to you, too.” He said quietly, a small smile coming to his face.

The dark-haired boy seated across from him was, without a doubt really, his best friend. Not because he was around him the most, but Makism was so outgoing that Harley couldn’t help but pick up on it. Even though the other boy was younger, the Thunder felt quite comfortable around him and was a lot slower to become irritated or bitter.

”Well, I was drawing but now you’ve left your mark on it.” He gestured toward the dark blue streak that stretched through the body of the horse from the leg. It didn’t bother him, really; the entire thing was just a sketch on the back of his history homework (which I really should be doing but the snow is too distracting

[/color]) and not on a canvas or in his sketchbook, so it was nothing to be distraught over. He flipped the paper over and halfheartedly examined his homework that was only about a quarter of the way done about the bubonic plague. Most of it he could remember from just reading about it in the text book, but some of it he had to look up – the main reason he was in the library, or rather, the second reason. The first reason was that he had wanted a place to finish his homework where he had a grand view of the snow, and what better place than in front of one of the library’s massive windows?

He looked back at Makism, trying to figure out why he was in the library of all places. ”And what’re you doing here?”

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((Yuss ^^ ))
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