l'art pour l'art [open]
Who: magnetiferous and YOU!
What: Erik is dabbling in the art of hedge trimming this month. COME BOTHER HIM!
When: Nnnnnow.
Where: In a garden-like area on the ship.
Warnings: None.
[Let it never be said that certain missions on the Thor did not allow for a small bit of creativity.
Not that Erik particularly fancied himself a skilled hedge-trimmer of all things; where artistry and creativity were concerned, he didn't often have time to cultivate such aspects of his character, especially back on his planet. But he also did not find himself in possession of so much idle time as he did here - an apparently large factor in what one might create out of pure boredom.
So when the round hedges became boring, and the square hedges became boring, and the perfectly aligned hedges became just as boring, Erik attempted something else.
Something a bit more fanciful.
He sits in a bench, leaning back, legs crossed and admiring his strange work of art. He is oddly critical of it (or perhaps not so odd after all; they say you are your own worst critic, and maybe this applies to one Mr. Lehnsherr as well), looking over the plant with something of a raised brow.]
What: Erik is dabbling in the art of hedge trimming this month. COME BOTHER HIM!
When: Nnnnnow.
Where: In a garden-like area on the ship.
Warnings: None.
[Let it never be said that certain missions on the Thor did not allow for a small bit of creativity.
Not that Erik particularly fancied himself a skilled hedge-trimmer of all things; where artistry and creativity were concerned, he didn't often have time to cultivate such aspects of his character, especially back on his planet. But he also did not find himself in possession of so much idle time as he did here - an apparently large factor in what one might create out of pure boredom.
So when the round hedges became boring, and the square hedges became boring, and the perfectly aligned hedges became just as boring, Erik attempted something else.
Something a bit more fanciful.
He sits in a bench, leaning back, legs crossed and admiring his strange work of art. He is oddly critical of it (or perhaps not so odd after all; they say you are your own worst critic, and maybe this applies to one Mr. Lehnsherr as well), looking over the plant with something of a raised brow.]