Pens and imperfections. (open!)
Whenever the artist needed inspiration, the only place to go for sure was outside. Even if it was raining (which it wasn’t), he would still trek out to find the perfect piece of nature that would make the art flow from his brush, like magic. Hoping for something that would inspire his next painting, Angelo put his beret on, and trekked out of the boys dorm, his sketchbook and materials packed away in a bag. It had been extremely warm and sunny the last few days, but finally here was a day where there were fluffy white clouds in the sky, a soft breeze moving them along.
The hill was steep, and he hopped down it, jumping and skidding, before walking along it’s edge, trying to find a place to sit. Within the shade of the hill, Angelo spotted a female student- just lying there in the shade. Obviously she wasn’t dead- she was doing something with her hands (writing, perhaps?). Interested, he walked towards her.
Her eyes had been fluttering shut, and Iris and decided that she really didn’t have much use for thought at the moment. Thinking, and over thinking, had gotten her into quite a rut, and it wasn’t a very nice place to be. So her hand moved almost absently against the paper, and she wouldn’t dare to look. No, instead she had been distracted by the footsteps approaching her. A man, taller than her, carrying quite a bit—probably slung over in a bag or backpack. He smelled a bit like paint.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Tilting her head back, she opened her eyes, smiling to herself at the sight of the boy. She had been quite right in all her thoughts. Iris had always been rather astute, she could tell a lot about a person just by listening to them walk. Hopefully it hasn’t made him nervous.
“Which is rather odd, for I’m probably in the art room as often as you are.” Iris turned to face him, her notebook falling off her lap along with her pen. Looking at his face, she sort of recognised him—they had probably passed in the halls or something. When she was in the art room, however, everything around her was blocked out, so it was unlikely she remembered him from there.