Sketches and Static pv Closed

Heat schemed to seal Keiran's eyes shut as he trudged out of campus as far as his feet would take him, and then some. Fatigue bore its teeth into his neck, its venom spreading through his blood, making its rounds through to every vein, every capilary, binding itself to every cell that built up the tissues that formed the skin that strangled him so.

Perhaps if he walked long enough, the path he was beating would begin to beat itself. Suppose he pressed his heels harder into the soil and rock - the longer he did it, the more he'd intrinsically become one with the elements and disintegrate peacefully into the dirt, grow into grass, and maybe finally accept the good graces of the sunlight. Perhaps self-actualisation for Keiran would take the form of photosynthesis long after he slumped amongst the trees and decayed into them, becoming something more significant than his palely loitering self.

The first step he supposed to take was to settle down, not that Keiran played much of a role when his knees relented, and he buckled back into the weeds below. Not far beside him sat another seemingly equally exasperated fellow, folded over himself and his chicken-scratched sketches.

Keiran squinted, reaching for a twig. "Yer holdin' yer pencil too close teh the nib." Gesturing, the wixen demonstrated how one's grip should loosen, focusing his hold just behind the centre. "Force longer gestures through yer arm - not yer wrist."

@Keith Moore | ACTION: Keiran is walking out of campus, exhausted. He flops beside Keith and shows him another way to hold his pencil.

The drawing was starting to piss him off, his hands hurting his head not any better than it was yesterday. He could hear everyone around him and each footstep they took if they were walking by. He could hear the water ripple or the leaves moving, a headache growing in his head. How lucky was he to have heightened senses, ones that would now cause him headaches 23 out of the 24 hours in a day. How lucky was he to be in constant pain for 2 weeks straight and not know how to deal with this yet? He felt so alone despite knowing he had Colin and other werewolves in the school.

He'd stopped drawing for a long moment, by the time he looked down at it he didnt remember what he'd been trying to draw, it looked like a bunch of scribbles to him, darker lines here and there. He turned the page and started to try again, being slower with the strokes to try and concentrate despite the pounding in his head. He heard someone walking closer but he paid no mind, thinking they'd walk oast and leave him alone. People didnt come up to him anymore and he thought it was because of how dead he looked.

As the boy sits down keith moves over some, looking at the boy out of the corner of his eye. He didnt move his head to listen to him, but did move his hand to how the boy showed him. He trued it and the lines were a bit better, but due to the shaking of his hand Keith still couldn't draw how he used to. He'd have to get used to this. "thanks I guess... I'm Keith."

wc-289- interacting with: @Keiran Kith