16 Feb 2021, 01:40
Finding Picasso
@Jake Morris
Valentine had long held a convoluted impression of what it meant to be an artist. What came immediately to mind were the lunatics of the Medieval and Renaissance, men of towering personal accomplishment who never got to taste the fruits of their legacy.
Thus, never would he have thought that he'd be calling upon the aid of one.
Surely though, times were different now. There would be no pieces of crumpled paper strewn across messy floors with underwear hanging from easels and uneaten cookies three days old on the window ledge. It was his turn to tut now, a script, a mystery, a dialogue, and a victim. He dusted his chaotic thoughts, straightening the sleeves of his Gryffindor robe as he chanced upon the boy he had been stalking was looking for.
"Yo," he remarked coolly when he approached Jake Morris, the Picasso of our time, the Raphael of Great Britain. Well- perhaps he had been playing up his expectations a tad dramatic, but he found that it was good to be optimistic, especially in trying times.
"Are ya Jake?" he grinned amicably, peering curiously over whatever it was the other boy was doing. "I heard that you're really good at drawing."
Last edited by Maya Galim on 16 Feb 2021, 03:16, edited 1 time in total.
Discord: Valentine#6117
25 Feb 2021, 17:56
Finding Picasso
@Jackson Valentine
In a school as painfully large as Hogwarts, it was hard to find the places where you felt comfortable. For Jake, there were only two places inside of the entire school that he did. One was the Hufflepuff common room, with the warm fireplace and for the most part, friendly badgers. Though it had been the site of tragedy the year before, time had healed those wounds and it had become a place of comfort once again.
The other place was the school library, where as many books as a boy could ever hope to read in a billion lifetimes was stretched out from wall to wall, in row after row. The librarian was friendly, and people were quiet, and it was a nice place to read or draw or just sit when you felt overwhelmed by the world and needed quiet time.
Today Jake was drawing. He had met a first-year boy in his dorm recently who had been reading a book about bowtruckles. Since then, Jake had been reading even more about the fascinating creatures, and was currently working on drawing them, perched on a tree in a forest. Bowtruckles protected trees, which was part of what made them so cool. As he sketched with his colored pencils he heard a voice say 'Yo' - one of those cool-boy things the other kids said some times, kind of like his badger brother Jack, but nothing like Jake had ever said. The tiny second year's eyes rose defensively - the privacy of the library was part of what he liked about it.
"Um, mhm," the boy nodded shyly, blushing a little when the other boy knew his name. He got recognized sometimes and he didn't really like it. If they recognized him, then they had heard about him. He didn't know what they had heard. There were a lot of things he really didn't want the other kids to hear about him. He feared the worst, until he heard the answer.
"You did?" Jake asked, mouth dropping slightly. "Who told you that?" Had people talked about him...? He knew that some of the Hufflepuffs liked looking at his drawings, and Professor Browne had even hung up his artwork on his closet once, which had been one of the most amazing compliments Jake could ever have received. "Well I do draw a lot..." he said.
Jake looked down self-consciously at the drawing in front of him, covering it up slightly. It wasn't ready to show. He thought for a moment about what the other boy had said. Jake didn't like being talked about or getting attention, but it did feel good when people liked his drawings.
It was one of the only times he felt like he was good at something.
In a school as painfully large as Hogwarts, it was hard to find the places where you felt comfortable. For Jake, there were only two places inside of the entire school that he did. One was the Hufflepuff common room, with the warm fireplace and for the most part, friendly badgers. Though it had been the site of tragedy the year before, time had healed those wounds and it had become a place of comfort once again.
The other place was the school library, where as many books as a boy could ever hope to read in a billion lifetimes was stretched out from wall to wall, in row after row. The librarian was friendly, and people were quiet, and it was a nice place to read or draw or just sit when you felt overwhelmed by the world and needed quiet time.
Today Jake was drawing. He had met a first-year boy in his dorm recently who had been reading a book about bowtruckles. Since then, Jake had been reading even more about the fascinating creatures, and was currently working on drawing them, perched on a tree in a forest. Bowtruckles protected trees, which was part of what made them so cool. As he sketched with his colored pencils he heard a voice say 'Yo' - one of those cool-boy things the other kids said some times, kind of like his badger brother Jack, but nothing like Jake had ever said. The tiny second year's eyes rose defensively - the privacy of the library was part of what he liked about it.
"Um, mhm," the boy nodded shyly, blushing a little when the other boy knew his name. He got recognized sometimes and he didn't really like it. If they recognized him, then they had heard about him. He didn't know what they had heard. There were a lot of things he really didn't want the other kids to hear about him. He feared the worst, until he heard the answer.
"You did?" Jake asked, mouth dropping slightly. "Who told you that?" Had people talked about him...? He knew that some of the Hufflepuffs liked looking at his drawings, and Professor Browne had even hung up his artwork on his closet once, which had been one of the most amazing compliments Jake could ever have received. "Well I do draw a lot..." he said.
Jake looked down self-consciously at the drawing in front of him, covering it up slightly. It wasn't ready to show. He thought for a moment about what the other boy had said. Jake didn't like being talked about or getting attention, but it did feel good when people liked his drawings.
It was one of the only times he felt like he was good at something.