People Watching (Open)
Feb 24, 2011 11:21:57 GMT -5
Post by mirandafear on Feb 24, 2011 11:21:57 GMT -5
Velvet Marquis slid down in a metal chair that was neatly placed in front of a pastry shop. In her right hand she held two unused pencils, their erasers nice and sharp- untouched. A blank sketchpad hung in her other hand waiting to be used. Velvet's careful blue eyes slid around the area, scoping out anyone who she thought would be interesting, but there were few people out today. Frowning, she wondered why, but then reconsidered that thought. Looking up at the sky, her frown turned into a scowl. It was cloudy, that's why. Not a lot of people went out of their houses on a cloudy day. It seemed less welcoming to Velvet. And yet here she was, at the same spot she always sits at in the summer.
Sighing, Velvet slid the sketchbook onto the table beside her, the metal rings that held the white paper together scrubbing mercilessly against the metal surface of the table. Her only reaction to this was to cringe against the noise. Silently, she looked out at the few people walking by, resting her chin in her hand while propping her elbow on one of the chair's arms. What a boring day, Velvet thought to herself. She just wished that there was someone around that she could talk to, but she was never good at keeping a conversation. Most people would start off nice and then they would get all defensive about whatever Velvet would say. It was never easy for her.
She just wished there was someone who would understand her in this whole District. Surely there had to be somone. Someone who shared her morbid fascination of watching the Hunger Games. Who liked to psychoanalyze people by just sitting and watching them. Who liked to create characters and stories from the top of their heads. But all in her seventeen years, Velvet has never met a single person who likes what she likes.
Sighing, Velvet slid the sketchbook onto the table beside her, the metal rings that held the white paper together scrubbing mercilessly against the metal surface of the table. Her only reaction to this was to cringe against the noise. Silently, she looked out at the few people walking by, resting her chin in her hand while propping her elbow on one of the chair's arms. What a boring day, Velvet thought to herself. She just wished that there was someone around that she could talk to, but she was never good at keeping a conversation. Most people would start off nice and then they would get all defensive about whatever Velvet would say. It was never easy for her.
She just wished there was someone who would understand her in this whole District. Surely there had to be somone. Someone who shared her morbid fascination of watching the Hunger Games. Who liked to psychoanalyze people by just sitting and watching them. Who liked to create characters and stories from the top of their heads. But all in her seventeen years, Velvet has never met a single person who likes what she likes.
