[001] In which Naminé sketches Riku in the library
Naminé smiles a little. Her bare feet are dangling over the edge of the upper level in the library of the castle in the World that Never Was, through the thin railing. She has her sketchpad with her, as usual, a couple of pencils and her eraser. Her sandals are neglected beside her -- white against the deep black of the floor -- left there so they wouldn't fall off her feet. Her sketchpad is opened to a blank page, and her eyes quickly dart from her subject -- who is right below her at a table -- to the page time and time again as she draws.
Silver hair, just the right length...strong arms, strong shoulders hidden by the folds of his dark cloak.
She can't help but feel her cheeks grow warm at the memory of what had happened between them only recently.
His gentle but firm hands...one holding the book open while the other flips the pages after he's finished.
She's sketching quickly, though with a sort of expert meticulousness that she's developed over the time she's spent drawing -- which, she recalls, seems to have been ever since she could remember. The form of her subject slowly comes together on paper through a series of quick scribbles, then more solid forms and shades of black, grey and white.
Pensive face...serious eyes the colour of deep water -- eyes that speak a thousand words to her, a thousand images in one single glance...
She pauses in the middle of a line to study him, the way he seems so concentrated on his book and the way his entire body seems slightly tense, as though he can never truly be at peace. She bites her lip. Then again, it isn't as though this place is safe in any way; Naminé hides in the shadows of the upper level now in order to avoid being seen by anyone in case they come looking for her. She knows Riku isn't particularly welcomed here either.
Another series of short strokes cross her page, but the pencil fumbles from her hand as she pivots its direction. Her fingers quickly grab for it before slipping, but she grasps at nothing but the air. Her pencil, suspended in air for one breathless second, is suddenly taken over by gravity.
It plummets; simultaneously, Naminé lets out a small, barely audible gasp.
Silver hair, just the right length...strong arms, strong shoulders hidden by the folds of his dark cloak.
She can't help but feel her cheeks grow warm at the memory of what had happened between them only recently.
His gentle but firm hands...one holding the book open while the other flips the pages after he's finished.
She's sketching quickly, though with a sort of expert meticulousness that she's developed over the time she's spent drawing -- which, she recalls, seems to have been ever since she could remember. The form of her subject slowly comes together on paper through a series of quick scribbles, then more solid forms and shades of black, grey and white.
Pensive face...serious eyes the colour of deep water -- eyes that speak a thousand words to her, a thousand images in one single glance...
She pauses in the middle of a line to study him, the way he seems so concentrated on his book and the way his entire body seems slightly tense, as though he can never truly be at peace. She bites her lip. Then again, it isn't as though this place is safe in any way; Naminé hides in the shadows of the upper level now in order to avoid being seen by anyone in case they come looking for her. She knows Riku isn't particularly welcomed here either.
Another series of short strokes cross her page, but the pencil fumbles from her hand as she pivots its direction. Her fingers quickly grab for it before slipping, but she grasps at nothing but the air. Her pencil, suspended in air for one breathless second, is suddenly taken over by gravity.
It plummets; simultaneously, Naminé lets out a small, barely audible gasp.