Our Days Are Yours: Photography 101
Author: tryslora
Title: Our Days Are Yours: Photography 101
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Gen, implied canon pairings
Character/s: Lydia
Summary: Lydia finds the camera in her grandfather's attic.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 612
Prompt: #2 - Photographs
Author's Notes: Teen Wolf is not owned by me (wish it was!). This is absolutely unbetaed, so all errors are mine!
Lydia finds the camera in her grandfather's attic. It is heavy in her hands, as alien as if it came from another planet with its lack of a viewscreen and innumerable strange dials and numbers to be set. She holds it up and stares through the viewfinder, wondering if the lens sees the world as perfectly she does.
She takes it to school and meets with the photography teacher who pretends not to be shocked to see her in the art wing. She drops phrases like the psychological effects of light exposure upon portrait subjects and the chemistry of alternative photographic development technique and smiles prettily; two hours later she has had a quick tour of how the camera works, how to properly load and unload the film, and a promise that she can use the dark room whenever she likes as long as all chemicals are put back to normal when she's done, and nothing explodes or catches on fire. Lydia has no fear of unknown technique; she has books and the internet, after all, and anything can be researched.
Photography is simple, after all. It is methodology and science formed into art.
She loads her first roll of film, black and white, designed for an indoor exposure. She must be careful. Stingy. She cannot simply snap whatever comes to mind. Each picture must be perfect, capturing what she sees at that moment.
And Lydia knows what she wishes to collect with the camera's eye.
It is said, in some societies, that film captures the soul in every picture made. For the past years, Lydia's entire world has revolved around her friends, what has become her Pack. Her life has changed, her world has become something far different than she ever expected.
In a few short weeks, they will walk across the stage, take their diplomas, and scatter across the country as if they had never belonged to the same strange, odd, distinct club at all. They will sign yearbooks with smiles and laughter, and they will pretend that it is something more.
But it is something more. And therefore it needs something more.
Lydia has no need for the yearbook club. She clears her desk at home, making a place to lay out pages and empty spaces. She decides how she will arrange people, what order they should appear in and with who. She writes meticulous notes on a small pad of paper that is tucked into her camera bag so that she cannot deviate from the plan. It is scripted. Perfect.
The Beacon Hills yearbook tells the story of their high school years. It tells of acne and lacrosse, choir and science club. It shows who went to prom, and who tried out for the play.
Lydia's yearbook will be personal
She places the camera on her tripod and turns it toward her bed, setting the timer to give her several minutes to prepare herself. Then she sits and combs her fingers through her hair, tugging tangles free, letting the red strands curl around her face
She stares just past the camera, hands curled in her lap, a bland smile on her face. She thinks of Stiles trailing after her, so certain that she never noticed. She thinks of Allison barging into her life, twisting it in new, incredible directions. She thinks of the woods, of being naked and lost. She think of Peter. Of Erica
Of Jackson.
She doesn't notice that her smile slips away, the polite, quiet mask erased in honest reflection.
When she hears the click of the camera, Lydia nods with satisfaction for her self-portrait.
Her yearbook will capture the soul of the Pack.
Title: Our Days Are Yours: Photography 101
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Gen, implied canon pairings
Character/s: Lydia
Summary: Lydia finds the camera in her grandfather's attic.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 612
Prompt: #2 - Photographs
Author's Notes: Teen Wolf is not owned by me (wish it was!). This is absolutely unbetaed, so all errors are mine!
Lydia finds the camera in her grandfather's attic. It is heavy in her hands, as alien as if it came from another planet with its lack of a viewscreen and innumerable strange dials and numbers to be set. She holds it up and stares through the viewfinder, wondering if the lens sees the world as perfectly she does.
She takes it to school and meets with the photography teacher who pretends not to be shocked to see her in the art wing. She drops phrases like the psychological effects of light exposure upon portrait subjects and the chemistry of alternative photographic development technique and smiles prettily; two hours later she has had a quick tour of how the camera works, how to properly load and unload the film, and a promise that she can use the dark room whenever she likes as long as all chemicals are put back to normal when she's done, and nothing explodes or catches on fire. Lydia has no fear of unknown technique; she has books and the internet, after all, and anything can be researched.
Photography is simple, after all. It is methodology and science formed into art.
She loads her first roll of film, black and white, designed for an indoor exposure. She must be careful. Stingy. She cannot simply snap whatever comes to mind. Each picture must be perfect, capturing what she sees at that moment.
And Lydia knows what she wishes to collect with the camera's eye.
It is said, in some societies, that film captures the soul in every picture made. For the past years, Lydia's entire world has revolved around her friends, what has become her Pack. Her life has changed, her world has become something far different than she ever expected.
In a few short weeks, they will walk across the stage, take their diplomas, and scatter across the country as if they had never belonged to the same strange, odd, distinct club at all. They will sign yearbooks with smiles and laughter, and they will pretend that it is something more.
But it is something more. And therefore it needs something more.
Lydia has no need for the yearbook club. She clears her desk at home, making a place to lay out pages and empty spaces. She decides how she will arrange people, what order they should appear in and with who. She writes meticulous notes on a small pad of paper that is tucked into her camera bag so that she cannot deviate from the plan. It is scripted. Perfect.
The Beacon Hills yearbook tells the story of their high school years. It tells of acne and lacrosse, choir and science club. It shows who went to prom, and who tried out for the play.
Lydia's yearbook will be personal
She places the camera on her tripod and turns it toward her bed, setting the timer to give her several minutes to prepare herself. Then she sits and combs her fingers through her hair, tugging tangles free, letting the red strands curl around her face
She stares just past the camera, hands curled in her lap, a bland smile on her face. She thinks of Stiles trailing after her, so certain that she never noticed. She thinks of Allison barging into her life, twisting it in new, incredible directions. She thinks of the woods, of being naked and lost. She think of Peter. Of Erica
Of Jackson.
She doesn't notice that her smile slips away, the polite, quiet mask erased in honest reflection.
When she hears the click of the camera, Lydia nods with satisfaction for her self-portrait.
Her yearbook will capture the soul of the Pack.