3 Jan 2019, 02:29
The Color of Water
Lily sat against a tree, soaking in everything around her as she thought. Normally she would be writing, but her poetry just hadn't seemed to flow as freely since she had arrived at Hogwarts. Words can only go so far sometimes. It really wasn't healthy to try and force it out of herself. After sitting there for a rather long time, she turned, and dug around in her bag.
Out of it she produced a sketchbook, a little box of pens, and a ruler. For some reason she'd never managed to draw any decent horizon points without a ruler despite years of practice, so although it seemed a useless tool in this odd school, it still held some application for her. After taking a moment to resituate herself, her careful eyes scanned over the pens. Pencils were too soft, their marks too inconsistent and wavering. Quills just... didn't feel natural, as someone who had grown up in the Muggle worls. And she didn't have a big enough bag to carry paints.
Humming a soft little tune to herself, she finally selected one. As she took off the cap, her eyes shifted over to a hole in the snow before they rolled. That crutch was just going to keep on sinking, wasn't it? After leaning it back up against the tree, she touched the tip of the pen to the paper. It danced across the page almost without her thinking about it. So this went on for awhile, until it came time to change the color. Blinking, she stopped. What color was the lake?
Out of it she produced a sketchbook, a little box of pens, and a ruler. For some reason she'd never managed to draw any decent horizon points without a ruler despite years of practice, so although it seemed a useless tool in this odd school, it still held some application for her. After taking a moment to resituate herself, her careful eyes scanned over the pens. Pencils were too soft, their marks too inconsistent and wavering. Quills just... didn't feel natural, as someone who had grown up in the Muggle worls. And she didn't have a big enough bag to carry paints.
Humming a soft little tune to herself, she finally selected one. As she took off the cap, her eyes shifted over to a hole in the snow before they rolled. That crutch was just going to keep on sinking, wasn't it? After leaning it back up against the tree, she touched the tip of the pen to the paper. It danced across the page almost without her thinking about it. So this went on for awhile, until it came time to change the color. Blinking, she stopped. What color was the lake?
Last edited by Cecily Quinn on 3 Jan 2019, 13:52, edited 1 time in total.
A friend loves at all times - Proverbs 17:17a
Str: 4 | Agi: 7 | Con: 12 | Sta: 7