. e=mc2 { steff .

{danny}
Merchant

[M:-795]

220 POSTS
last seen Sept 28, 2012 20:41:19 GMT -5

but there's an itch that we've got to scratch. so set the fuse and we'll strike the match.

. e=mc2 { steff . Feb 7, 2012 20:07:23 GMT -5

Post by {danny} on Feb 7, 2012 20:07:23 GMT -5

( the sun it r i s e s slowly as you w a l k , )

I think I've officially been to all the districts, and I learned a lot. I learned how some of the industries changed because of things that went on, I learned about a strange plague that went around in District Nine for a bit, and I learned that District Twelve is the poorest district (I guess rumors can be right). I can't decide which District I like the most, they are all interesting to me in their own little ways.
District Five is nice, I guess. That's where I ended up today.
I think for some reason the sky wizard - because I don't know what else to call them - were sad today, because it was drizzling rain, and I think that means they're crying. I feel bad because they're sad, and they are making other people suffer.
The rain doesn't bother me anymore though, so I keep walking. I eventually get to some art museum, so I stop in because I have nothing else to do and it beats the wet rain.
There are some beautiful paintings (and some not so good), but I think it's interesting to look at, because it expresses how people feel, and it's easier because they don't have to say it. I would become an artist, but I can't do the art thing.

"Interesting creations, aren't they?" I ask to a red-haired girl next to me. I guess it was sort of random, and I don't want to look creepy, but I figured she could use someone to talk to.
I sure could.

^ Thank you Zoë.

Steffenee
Merchant

199 POSTS
last seen Jun 24, 2012 1:50:04 GMT -5

. e=mc2 { steff . Feb 7, 2012 20:30:21 GMT -5

Post by Steffenee on Feb 7, 2012 20:30:21 GMT -5

Maude had woken up that day in an unusually depressing mood, even for her. She didn't understand why she was so upset as she walked to the bathroom and started to get ready for the hard trying day that would surely follow her walk down the old stairs, out the door and into the store. She loved district five for the most part, she just felt like she was in a rut. Nothing to do, no where to be, and no one to care about what happened to her. Anyone she asked would surely say that her mother cared what happened to her and that it would matter to her mother if she just disappeared and dropped off the face of the planet. She doubted it though, she was so lost in her pain over loosing her brother so many years ago that she bet her mother didn't even really know she existed. This she didn't mind too much but somedays, like today for example, that was something she just couldn't take--being around a mother that didn't care that she was there still and hadn't died along with her brother years and years before.

After going back to her bedroom and changing into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, she pulled a jacket over her shoulders and walked through the small apartment to the kitchen, her mother not upstairs still that late in the morning. Her mother was probably opening the store down below or getting ready to open. She grabbed something that she didn't even look at to see if it was something she would eat and padded down the stairs as fast as her booted feet would carry her. She wanted out of that store and apartment as soon as she could get away from there. She loved her mother but being cooped up in the house when she was this depressed wasn't good for her and she knew it. As soon as she came through the door she saw her mother double-checking the inventory before the store opened. The young girl sighed and grabbed a shoulder bag from behind the counter as she told her mother she would be back before dark. She was planning on staying out all day.

As she left the store the stupid bell above the door rang and that was when her mother looked up and actually realized she was leaving and called a late goodbye to the only child she had left in this world. Maude scoffed as the door closed behind her with another annoying ding. She gritted her teeth, and then she realized that it was raining. She groaned inwardly as she decided that that was why she was so upset with the world that day. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath, trying to decide if she should turn around and go back inside or find something to do in the district that day so she would be out of the house until dark. She started down the street deciding she would go to the art museum. She loved it there, it gave her inspiration for her own drawing, when she decided to draw that is. She pulled her jacket a little closer around her as she made her way down the deserted street and she finally made it to the corner where the art museum stood. She smiled to herself as she went inside and took off her jacket.

Her bag hung at her side, none of the thing within had gotten even the slightest bit wet. She held on to her jacket as she started to look at the paintings all around the museum, visiting them in the order they were displayed and taking longer at her favorites. She even took out her sketch book a few times to change a detail in one of her drawings she saw in the art before her to make it look better. That was her thing taking elements from other artists and putting it in her work but also adding her own tones and touches. She walked to the next painting which of course was her favorite in the entire museum. She probably had been standing there for twenty minutes when she was suddenly interrupted by someone asking her something. She blinked a few times and let the question sink in. She wasn't use to being talked to by people at the art museum and it was something she hadn't been expecting.

After a moment or so of silence between them she finally decided that she had her answer to his question. "Yes in a sense they are interesting, but these paintings are always interesting, every time you come back it is something new in the painting you didn't see before," she replied in a soft voice sounding much wiser to herself then she ever thought she could be. She knew it must not sound wise to the boy standing next to her though, she never said things how they were meant to come out, but rather all jumbled and messed up so that they made no sense. She only hoped that he would understand what she was trying to say to him.

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Last Edit: Feb 9, 2012 15:52:53 GMT -5 by Steffenee

steffenee's characters

{danny}
Merchant

[M:-795]

220 POSTS
last seen Sept 28, 2012 20:41:19 GMT -5

but there's an itch that we've got to scratch. so set the fuse and we'll strike the match.

. e=mc2 { steff . Feb 8, 2012 21:37:46 GMT -5

Post by {danny} on Feb 8, 2012 21:37:46 GMT -5

ooc; welp! i need to test colors in this thread, so sorry if it gets annoying :3

brenson charyczak
.

"Yes in a sense they are interesting, but these paintings are always interesting, every time you come back it is something new in the painting you didn't see before," glad that Brenson did not scare off the girl, he decided to take a peek at her features. All that was really remarkable about her face was her red hair, how it feel into her face all pretty-like. And he also realized that the girl was smart, wise, perhaps, was the correct word. She seemed like she had wanted to say something so meaningful her whole life; maybe she did. Brenson could only mutter "True... true." because the words she had said dumbstrucked (is that even a word?) Brenson, the language she had speaken sounded foreign, yet it made more sense than anything he had ever heard.
Brenson looked at the art, and perhaps the girl was right, Brenson could notice a different stroke every time, and think what was the artist thinking while painting his line? and it made Brenson feel tangly. It made him feel tingly because he feel wise.
Brenson looked at the girl again and said "Who said that?" because he wasn't certain the girl - who couldn't be older than eighteen - could have created art in a sentence. Sure, the words probably did sound rude, selfish, but that was Brenson's way of asking.

ooc; dear lord :c short post again, i apologize.

^ Thank you Zoë.

Steffenee
Merchant

199 POSTS
last seen Jun 24, 2012 1:50:04 GMT -5

. e=mc2 { steff . Feb 8, 2012 22:07:56 GMT -5

Post by Steffenee on Feb 8, 2012 22:07:56 GMT -5

Maude continued to look thoughtfully at the painting while she waited for his response. She loved art it made her feel like there was at least one good thing in this world, she wished one day maybe her art would be displayed in an art museum. She would love it, knowing that her painting would be hung there for forever, never to be moved by someone again, where people could admire it and look at it. If she had one goal in life that would make her happy it would be that. It’s too bad that she won’t ever be able to have that dream though, her muse had been gone for a while now and she just went back and reedited the pictures she had drawn, she never had enough inspiration to draw a new one and make it perfect with all the components.

She almost missed his reply because he said it so quietly, almost like he didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought, she doubted it though. That would be a selfish way to think, he was probably now looking at the painting for what it was instead of what he thought it was. A painting with hundreds of brushstrokes, maybe even thousands, all coming together into one beautiful piece of art that was on display for them. Most people would call her crazy for being this into art. She sometimes wonders about her own passion for it and she won’t look at it, she doesn’t like to think about what it means if she is this into art. She couldn’t be an artist; she had no muse, and no money to pay for art school or anything of the sort. She had to worry about being reaped and about getting along with her mother while she still lived there. It was hard to believe that she had so much to worry about. When she stood in front of a painting though and just looked at it, all those worries disappeared as if into thin air. She couldn’t even remember what she had been worried about in the first place, only that she had been worried about it. She knew that that was the reason she liked art. Not having to worry and allowing it to take all her worries away if only for a moment or two.

She looked over at him when he asked who had said that like she had not come up with it herself. In all honesty she wasn’t sure if she had in fact come up with it herself or if she had heard it somewhere, it could have been pieces of what she had heard people say or she could have come up with it herself because she is an artist and she knows what it is like to look back at a drawing and add another detail here or another detail there. She would add things in at random moments when she didn’t even know she had been missing that until she had to put it in. She smiled and shook herself out of her daze some. She felt like she was in fog, but that is how she always felt when she looked at art. She once again looked at him finally deciding to answer his question. ”I honestly do not know who said it. For all I know I could have heard it somewhere or came up with it on my own” She said looking back at the painting. ”I know how hard it is to get a drawing or painting perfect, you always want to go back and edit it, like you do when you are writing and read it several times before you allow it to be seen.” She added this as an afterthought, she felt like some wise person who wasn’t nearly as young and stupid as she was. ”I’m sorry for going all deep on you, art makes me think more than normal. Stuff like ‘what was the artist thinking, should I add something like this to my own drawings’”.

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