Slayde Rainswallow // D8 fin

paint

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Slayde sharpened his pencil, setting a piece of paper square in front of him. It wasn’t every day he tried to draw himself but he had learned that he needed to expand his boundaries from the standard mythical sea creatures. Taking the pencil in his left hand, Slayde started out with the basics: a circle with curved lines intersecting in the middle. After adding a bit more lines for navigational purposes, he then began to add bits of detail. The eyes, which were rather big, set evenly on the face, just above a wide nose. Eyebrows were long and thick arched over the eyes, even with each other in width and length. Lower on the face he added a light curve for a chin and a mouth that was longer than normal but not grotesquely so. The neck was thin with a prominent Adam’s apple, and that led to a collarbone that the skin just draped over, really; he placed his fingers along his own collarbone, noting the hardness and arc of the bone, transferring that shape to the paper. Narrow shoulders, decently sized upper arms, long forearm, spindly fingers; his gaze glances down at the real fingers that are holding the pencil with a delicate grip – a thought races through his mind and he erases the hand on the paper, redrawing it with light strokes.

The torso displayed a lean figure: the pectoral muscles were not very definite, abdominal muscles were not quite visible, but overall it was obvious the figure was slim. Slayde pursed his lips together, scanning the top half of the body. It did look very much like him but as always there was a light nagging in the back of his mind that something was off. He exhaled rather sharply, adjusting his grip on the pencil and continuing on to the hips, which were narrow and thankfully not wide like a female’s. I can never get female hips just right. He sketched down long legs, adding muscle tone lines – quads, shins – and then ended with the feet.

With the outline done, Slayde then took his colored pencils (nearly my most prized possession) and started to add tones. Since his skin was pale he went with a light touch of tan, properly making it darker wherever he figured shadows should be. Jumping back up to the head he added curves of dark brown with lighter brown tips though the light brown ends only happen during the summer when the sun turns my hair lighter, but I like the way it looks when that happens. He then started on the eyes, using a dark shade of grey and going in circular motions, pressing harder toward the center for the pupil. There wasn’t much spark behind them but they were watchful, dark, and always curious. Same dark brown for the eyebrows, a pale pink for the lips, faint tics here and there for scars scattered across the body, and lastly a black and white bracelet made weaved from yarn that is always on his left wrist (well actually it’s just on so tight that I can’t take it off – not saying I do, but that’s why).

me

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He set his pencils down, settling back against the chair to examine the drawing from a distance. It looked so much more like his twin brother than it did himself, but considering we’re the spitting image of each other I’d say this picture depicts me well.

His twin, Wesly, is really the only person that can bring Slayde out of his shell. Slayde could almost refer to him as his “security blanket” – without Wes by his side he is silent, refusing to speak to anyone that isn’t within his family. When spoken to directly the boy is known for ducking behind Wes like a puppy seeking protection behind its owner, scared of all the things in the world. But with Wes, Slayde is completely at ease. He smiles more, laughs a little louder, and is basically an entirely different person. His parents tried convincing him to be more “himself” while out in public but he just can’t seem to get over the fear of strangers and it’s rather obvious. Slayde is just shy by nature. By being quiet and observant he can see the whole picture of scenarios and because of it he is able to fabricate lies and uphold them, knowing who was doing what at the time and what he should do to keep things believable.

While out on walks, Slayde makes a point to watch out for all different kinds of birds so he can add them to his and Wes’s “bird book,” which has a variety of different species. Whenever he spots a new bird he’ll either try his best to memorize the coloring and design, or if he has the book with him he’ll take it out and do a quick sketch, jotting down notes for colors and so on. Wes writes the species information, I just do the drawings. Slayde takes care to perfect each and every bird drawing in the book, adding in as much detail as he can: side views, top view, wingspan, single feather, so on. It goes for any of his drawings, really; he is detail-oriented and tries to perfect everything he does, taking as much time as need be and always trying to stay patient with it.

Contrary to what you would think, he enjoys the Games. Not for the killing and bloodshed, no – he loves the mutts and scenery. During the Games Slayde can be found sitting in front of the television with his sketchbook dedicated entirely to mutts, drawing out every one he sees flash across the screen. Another sketchbook is dedicated solely to scenes within Games. This particular one is the newest addition to his collection of sketchbooks and is kept in secret; he only works on it within the confines of his room, not daring to take it out past the door. The Capitolites only remember the terrible, bloody moments – I want to immortalize the more innocent and less known ones. The picture of the Career’s sand castle from the 55th was a favorite of his even though he drew it nearly ten years ago, but he had since redrawn it to the best his memory would allow. He continues to draw scenes without even Wes knowing, choosing to keep them private as kind of a “tribute to the tributes.”

Every now and then Slayde will slip into his father’s map drawing room, wielding his colored pencils, to find whatever map is stretched across the table. All of the maps that his father creates are “lifeless,” in his opinion, so he chooses to “spice them up.” Over areas of water Slayde will draw fish or some sort of serpent creature, birds over the forest, and dragons along the border of the map. When he does this he is sure to plan ahead of it to allow plenty of time to perfect each drawing, staying within the theme of the map. Looking at them constantly has heightened his sense of curiosity enough to where he does listen to Noland’s tales of exploration, and he secretly wishes to follow his eldest brother out on his expeditions but he never will unless Wes goes with him.

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Satisfied with the drawing experiment for the time being, Slayde tucked the piece of paper behind the cover of a nearby sketchbook and then straightened his pencils at the top of the desk. His grey eyes carried their gaze to the window directly in front of him where he had some old photographs taped to the glass at the bottom, each of which carrying a special memory.

On the far left was a young woman caressing two newborns wrapped up in blankets: Me and Wes. The young woman, though looking exhausted, had a large smile on her face, eyes downcast as he looked at her babies. She had always been good to Slayde – even dubbing him the “southern baby” - and, as much as he didn’t like to admit it, he certainly was a mama’s boy. He loved his parents since the very start and they would be the ones he followed around when Wes wasn’t around, though he quickly found out that they didn’t much like him trailing behind their every move like a duckling.

The next photograph showed three muddy children, all grinning and still innocent to the world. Slayde lifted his hand and extended a long finger, delicately running it over the image to wipe away dust. Even though it was taken so long ago it was easy for him to tell who was who: Noland, Wes, and then him. Back then Slayde was quite the adventurous toddler, always finding the nearest mud pit and flinging himself down into it to roll like a pig. Back then things were simpler. It amazed him how willing he used to be when it came to getting down and dirty – what happened?

Soon after that, Noland had taken to the wilderness like an untamed animal and Slayde started picking up a pencil. Wes nearly had the same idea but he preferred reading and learning whereas Slayde sought out books with blank pages. His artistic career began quite early – somewhere between the muddy photograph and the next – and never once let up. It grasped him tight until he drew everything in his head that yearned to be put onto paper, colored, and then tucked away safely with the rest of the hand-made creations. The drawings started out terrible but he progressed, determined to make things as lifelike as he possibly could – and he did. Over the years his sketches became more and more like the real thing and it pleased him, but still he hardly showed them to anyone but his twin. Eventually he did gather up confidence, though, and when people would ask what he was drawing, he would show them instead of quickly slapping his hands down to hide it.

The next item wasn’t a photograph but a compass; just a small, golden, old one that his father had given him and he cherished it even more so than his art supplies. Instead of the N being red or bold like it usually is, the S was the dominate letter written in a beautiful cursive font. It’s the direction I was named after therefore it should be dominate. There hasn’t been a day where Slayde went anywhere without that compass in his pocket – practically an extension of his body, really. He fidgets with it when he’s nervous, uses it to find his way around, and, like having Wes nearby, it makes him feel secure like a piece of my family is with me wherever I go.

Slayde extended his arm and picked the compass from its place on the windowsill, placing it into his pocket as he stood up. It was late in the evening and he hadn’t eaten yet so his stomach was growling angrily at him, a gnawing empty feeling in his belly that he needed to get rid of before he tried to sleep. Hopefully there’s leftover lamb still. Casting one quick glance to make sure everything was cleaned up, Slayde then headed out of his room, closing the door behind him.

world

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