(the round table) spirit, about nix
Sep. 22nd, 2010 02:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wellownedbkupAbout Nix.
Spirit:
Even via webcam, she’s the most gorgeous thing he’s laid his eyes on in what feels like a lifetime. She’s got her hair pulled back, and she’s completely tied up in whatever psychology textbook her professor’s harping on this semester, but still… Nix just doesn’t have it in himself to let her go for even a minute to finish studying. He’s starved for her.
He’s been on the road for three weeks, a mixed media show with a few others from his graduating class, setting up in galleries across New England. He thinks that maybe this is going to be his shot to the big time, where he won’t have to deal with all the stress and maybe make enough to make an honest woman out of her. Locally, they just can’t make ends meet like that, all the nearby galleries flooded with college student work. He was thankful for it during the time, but it’s gotten ridiculous.
He grabs his sketchbook while she’s sitting there, eyes downcast on her book and murmuring something about the class she’s a Teacher’s Aide in and the way her kids are acting. He’s not paying attention, not as much as he thinks he should, not when he’s sure she’s telling him this because it is what they would be talking about when he’s at home. He’d much rather, he thinks, draw her just like this. It’s not anything spectacular by artistic standards—a profile of a girl with her hair in a ponytail and closed off from everyone outside the page.
He can’t say he’s ever been lacking when it comes to how inspired he is by the person he loves. There’d been far too many boxes with Liam’s face, his hands, his spirit captured on paper. He doesn’t want to talk about it now. Present tense when talking about love and lovers only.
Silence drifts between them after awhile, and he finds himself looking directly into her eyes when he comes up for air. He’s always had that way of losing himself in what he’s doing that he barely realizes how time has passed, how the light changes and fades and suddenly it’s dark out. He smiles at her sheepishly.
“Good subject?” she asks, a smirk lifting her lips in a half smile.
“Aren’t you always?” he asks back, just to see her blush. And, it feels like maybe he’s not so far from home after all, if he can get her to react that way with just a compliment. He wishes he was there already, holding her, but he knows that in a few days, they’ll be together again. And he’ll listen to her talk about what’s-his-face in the third row who can’t tell personality type from personality type. And maybe he’ll go sit in on her class on April Fool’s Day and help her students play that one game where you act like the person to your left and see if she ever figures it out.
God, he misses her.
Spirit:
Even via webcam, she’s the most gorgeous thing he’s laid his eyes on in what feels like a lifetime. She’s got her hair pulled back, and she’s completely tied up in whatever psychology textbook her professor’s harping on this semester, but still… Nix just doesn’t have it in himself to let her go for even a minute to finish studying. He’s starved for her.
He’s been on the road for three weeks, a mixed media show with a few others from his graduating class, setting up in galleries across New England. He thinks that maybe this is going to be his shot to the big time, where he won’t have to deal with all the stress and maybe make enough to make an honest woman out of her. Locally, they just can’t make ends meet like that, all the nearby galleries flooded with college student work. He was thankful for it during the time, but it’s gotten ridiculous.
He grabs his sketchbook while she’s sitting there, eyes downcast on her book and murmuring something about the class she’s a Teacher’s Aide in and the way her kids are acting. He’s not paying attention, not as much as he thinks he should, not when he’s sure she’s telling him this because it is what they would be talking about when he’s at home. He’d much rather, he thinks, draw her just like this. It’s not anything spectacular by artistic standards—a profile of a girl with her hair in a ponytail and closed off from everyone outside the page.
He can’t say he’s ever been lacking when it comes to how inspired he is by the person he loves. There’d been far too many boxes with Liam’s face, his hands, his spirit captured on paper. He doesn’t want to talk about it now. Present tense when talking about love and lovers only.
Silence drifts between them after awhile, and he finds himself looking directly into her eyes when he comes up for air. He’s always had that way of losing himself in what he’s doing that he barely realizes how time has passed, how the light changes and fades and suddenly it’s dark out. He smiles at her sheepishly.
“Good subject?” she asks, a smirk lifting her lips in a half smile.
“Aren’t you always?” he asks back, just to see her blush. And, it feels like maybe he’s not so far from home after all, if he can get her to react that way with just a compliment. He wishes he was there already, holding her, but he knows that in a few days, they’ll be together again. And he’ll listen to her talk about what’s-his-face in the third row who can’t tell personality type from personality type. And maybe he’ll go sit in on her class on April Fool’s Day and help her students play that one game where you act like the person to your left and see if she ever figures it out.
God, he misses her.
